Lately, Maya was growing more and more tired. Perhaps running errands the whole day and barely sleeping at night was making her run on fumes. Even with Elena locked in the bathroom and the key sitting with Maya during sleep time, dark thoughts would keep occupying her.

To combat them, she would constantly think about what more she could do for Elena. Doing equations in her mind of how to bring her closest to her old state.

It has also made her quite paranoid. Not only was she fearing the monster within, but also the suspicion of others. Every little thing, a question about Elena or why she needed strange ingredients and books, would shoot Maya into a mini panic attack. She'd begun seeing every person as a threat who might take Elena away.

As a result, Maya was very conscious of her own behaviour and searched for feasible excuses that wouldn't bring suspicion toward the truth. Although Elena was being dramatic about it, a solution was still a solution and Maya was happy about it. She used the first chance to settle the account.

She ventured to scenic downtown Amellan alone quite often lately. Today, once again, she entered a building with old orange brick. A bell at the door announced her arrival at the butcher's shop. The butcher—a burly man with forearms like cured hams and a thick moustache, yet possessing a gentle voice—greeted her warmly.

"It's good to see yer again."

"You gave me good advice about the two packs," Maya began, flashing a rehearsed smile. "I completely ruined the first batch, and the second was so bad we just tossed it out."

She held out a paper-wrapped parcel.

"But I brought you a piece of apple pie somebody else made. So it's safe."

The butcher let out a hearty laugh, the kind that shook his shoulders. "What'd yer friend say? Did it taste like home?"

"She said it was awful," Maya admitted, twisting the truth just enough to fit her story.

"That's darn too bad. I hope she didn't hold it against you."

"No, it was fine. I still wanted to thank you for helping me with this weird request."

"It's my pleasure. Besides, in my line of work, I had much weirder requests."

"Really? Like, for example?" Maya was curious.

"Internal organs. Odd bits no one wants to eat. And of course, blood—fresh," he began listing off casually.

Maya palled.

"All sorts of things you'd think someone might need for a dark ritual," the butcher continued, then leaned in, lowering his voice. "Technically, I'm supposed to report any unusual requests to the headmistress. If someone's dabbling in dark magic, I usually get the first whiff."

Maya's throat tightened, and she swallowed painfully. Did he report her? Her fingers curled around the pie box.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. Blood pies aren't a red flag in my book," he said, chuckling. "Can't imagine anyone using congealed blood for a ritual."

Maya nervously mirrored his laugh and awkwardly left the replacement pie on the counter. "Thank you. I really appreciate all your help."

"You're welcome," his face adorning a cheery smile as his gaze saw her out. "Oh, is there cinnamon in this pie?" he asked as she reached the door.

"I think so? Is that a problem?" She had simply got it from a bakery on the way.

"I'm allergic, I'm afraid."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry. I didn't know," Maya said, flushing. "I can get you a different one."

"It's fine. My wife loves 'em. She'll be thrilled." He waved her off with a grin.

The butcher was the nicest person Maya had spoken to in days—friendly and kind. His warmth provided a welcome relief from Elena's constant bitterness. Though he looked exactly like the stereotypical butcher she had imagined, his gentle demeanour completely contradicted her expectations.

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Amanda walked into the morgue, unbothered by the chilly air and the smell of death and chemicals. It had been a while already, and she was growing impatient.

The coroner and his apprentice had learned not to waste time with the headmistress, even when she showed up unexpectedly. The coroner, with a clipboard in his hands, immediately began listing the information as she walked straight toward the first body.

"There were four confirmed victims in the attack, ma'am."

The Headmistress yanked the sheet down without pause, more like someone opening a curtain than unveiling a corpse.

The old coroner hastily followed by listing the victim's name and information. Amanda didn't even nod. She was already walking to the next table.

The coroner, struggling to follow her pace, repeated the same procedure with all four victims as she shifted between them, beginning to feel as if the Headmistress was searching for something in particular. She quickly ran out of bodies to check.

"Are these all the victims?" Her voice was cutting.

"Yes, ma'am. All four," he answered.

"Are you sure? There must be more."

"They are all the victims that were found, ma'am. We were blessed, this time, with such a low victim count. It is a much-awaited miracle."

She didn't seem satisfied. "List of missing persons." She extended her hand.

The young coroner's apprentice took over and handed her a new clipboard with the list of missing persons.

"There are six students reported missing," he stated.

Her eyes quickly skimmed through the list. "Is this the complete list?"

"All the ones reported so far."

"I need a complete one," she demanded.

The apprentice faltered. "Ma'am, we—uh—can't know for sure yet. Not everyone's accounted for."

It was a task that clearly didn't fall under his responsibilities. Yet he knew that such trivialities were of no concern to her.

As disappointment was etched on her face while she finished going through the list, in his youthful naivety, he made the ill-judged decision to question her.

"Are you searching for a specific individual, ma'am?" the young apprentice blurted.

She turned her head, slowly. Her eyes locked onto him—sharp as deadly steel. He regretted speaking.

Her voice dropped, becoming colder than the frigid air in the morgue. "Why would I be searching for someone?"

A pause.

The young apprentice quickly glanced at his teacher, who subtly shook his head.

"Are you implying I had something to do with this?" She gestured at the bodies.

"No. I—I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to insinuate that." He was filled with a sense of terror; something about this woman was incredibly intimidating.

"Once you complete the examinations of all the bodies, forward a detailed report to my office," she commanded the senior coroner before exiting the morgue.

After the door shut behind her, they stayed silent for a while. Then the old man sighed and said:

"Why'd you go and poke a devil?"

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Amanda returned to her office, feeling increasingly agitated. She needed this power, and fast.

Once, years ago, she had had a similar opportunity but hadn't maximized its potential. She couldn't afford assumptions this time. If she executed her plan correctly, she would have enough power for a long time.

Just the talisman would be enough, but she needed the body—the shell—to perform the ritual with the highest efficiency.

She regretted leaving things to chance as her subjects were growing increasingly distrustful. She should have taken matters into her own hands.

'Could she have survived?' Amanda frowned at the thought.

Even after clearly specifying she wanted the body delivered to her, she was left in uncertainty.

'This could be viewed as betrayal…'

She wouldn't mind her getting dragged outside and suffering as some spawn's plaything, but the situation was urgent.

'He will rectify the situation,' she reassured herself. 'All these years, he'd been nothing but loyal.'

Patience was all she needed. Her success was on the horizon.

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