"Cross? Sure, I know the man. His eyes tend to have trouble reaching my face. I haven't seen him in a few weeks, though. What do you want with him?" The woman in front of me asked. I was growing weary of sighing in disappointment. It was the same answer Harrison gave me, more or less. The same answer anyone had. He wasn't a mage. He had a staring problem. He hadn't been seen for weeks. It was all anyone knew. As far as I could learn, there wasn't any reason for the mayor to suspect him in the first place.

  He didn't sound all that different from hundreds of people I had met. Wealthier than average for this city, but nothing about him exactly screamed 'mass murderer'. Not from what I could glean, in any case. "Thank you, miss," I replied before moving on. I left the friendly jeweler's shop and looked around the market. I had asked everyone here at this point, and many of them had spoken to Harrison before me. None had particularly useful information. Or perhaps I wasn't asking the right questions.

  I thought it was more likely they wanted the raggedy driftwood of a woman to leave them alone. It was only day one. People hadn't grown too hopeless to care about things like that yet. The Quiet was still a whisper and not a cataclysm. Of course, if this did happen to every quieted corpse, it wouldn't be long before I had the lead I needed but... I couldn't resign myself to that. I didn't understand the loop yet. I didn't know how long it would keep going or how many chances I would get.

  And I didn't want to see what the third day would look like. So I kept asking. I left the market and asked the performers in the... upsetting rendition of Aethon and the Wandering Spirits. I asked around the wealthier quarter and got turned away by the mayor's doorman. Everywhere was the same. Those who already understood what was happening had no hope it could be stopped. Those who didn't weren't that interested in trying. No one knew anything more than I did.

  It wasn't fair to be frustrated by this. In a way, stranger that I was, I knew more than any of them. I was the only one that had seen the spell that caused all of this. I participated in it, at the end. But part of me was wary. I didn't like telling people what I could do with my magic. Or, what I could do a few years before. I had allowed my skill to fade along with the passion that inspired it. But the thought of telling someone I had actually managed to turn the world back... I wouldn't be believed. No one ever believed me.

  They would spit, and mock, and sneer, and I would be no closer to learning anything at all. Nothing about anything but myself, anyway. So I kept it quiet. I didn't share what I knew about the spell killing the city, and no one shared anything with me. Although, the more I boiled in the frustration of my pointless efforts, the more something didn't ring quite true. I was wrong. I didn't know about the spell doing this. Not the Quiet, anyway. That spell had already been taking lives before I got to Beddenmor. Which begged the question, what was the second spell for?

  The pillar of light I had tried to stop must have been a different spell. If one was killing people, what did the other do? The thought sent a chill down my spine. There was too much I didn't know. Aethon was descending to rest and Luna had already begun to watch us when I finally made my way back to Harrison's home. I still had my room at the inn but... ally or not I was unsure about leaving two girls alone with someone I had just met. I'd had to leave them together while I was out, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep an eye on them at night.

  As I was passing the graveyard again, I saw a teenage boy creeping through it. On the balls of his feet, he crouched and tip-toed his way from headstone to headstone. Like their condition had cheered me earlier in the day, this disrespect put me in a foul mood. I wanted to stop him, and I had the power to, but... it was early, then. I wasn't who I had been in my younger years, and I wasn't who I am now. So I stared in horror as he stepped through the flowers left on a newly buried grave, but I said nothing.

  I clenched my teeth and turned, ready to meet Harrison and report on my lack of luck. "Hey! What do you think you are doing?" a woman yelled. I turned toward the furious voice, flinching and holding up an arm to defend myself. But... I didn't need to. I wasn't the one being yelled at. Of course I wasn't; the voice had been too far away. I looked back at the cemetery and tilted my head as the boy jumped and fled from the grounds. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from there?" she shouted, rage clear in her voice.

  "I know what I saw!" the boy called backward as he fled the groundskeeper, "I'll find out what it is eventually!" I furrowed my brow then took a closer look at the woman who had done what I failed to. I recognized her. Margaret, the woman who had been arguing with Hadley that morning. Her presence there and the fresh dirt on a few graves explained why she had looked so dirty at the time. She was in charge of the graveyard. The visitor for the lonely graves.

  On a whim, I decided to make one final stop before returning to Harrison. I made my way to her. She was attending to the trampled flowers when I arrived. "U-Um, excuse me," I said. She stood, handing me a few roses, crushed beyond recognition.

  "See to those, will you?" She ordered, and I looked at them in confusion. When I didn't respond right away she looked back at me. "Look lady, I don't know what you want from me but I'm busy until the damage that little shit did has been attended to. Help me, and you can say what's on your mind when you are done," she lectured. I remained confused for a moment, but I shook it off. It was a simple enough request. However terse this woman was, it was even a kind request. She may have had little regard for me, but she believed in dignity for the dead. I began to cast 'Undone' again, reversing time on the plants and soil, each footprint filling itself in and leaving the ground unmarred.

  As I peeked around one stone, I noticed with horror the boy had begun to dig. This grave, which looked as if it had been filled a few days before, now had a small pit on top of it. As I chanted under my breath, blue sparks continued to race across my flesh and leap to the flowers in my hands. It took very little work before all the damage the child had done was completely healed. The crushed roses snapped back into place, their broken stems mending while the pith replaced its soil. A moment later and it appeared as if there had never been an intruder.

  It felt good, using my magic for something like that. No walking corpses and no collapsing city. Just a quiet evening and a small kindness. Yet again this cemetery cracked my lips with a subtle smile. Margaret looked back at me and her brows rose in brief surprise, but she shook it off. "Fancy trick you got there, saved me a bit of work. Thanks," she said, then unceremoniously turned to go back inside.

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  "W-wait!" I called, and she looked back over her shoulder without stopping. "I wanted to ask you a few questions if that's alright!"

  She shrugged, "No one is stopping you," she retorted. I paused for a moment, then hurried to catch up with her. She didn't stop me from entering her home with her, which felt profoundly wrong. I wasn't exactly sure if I had been invited or not and it threw me off balance. Still, I pushed through. I wanted to feel like I hadn't wasted the day. It wouldn't matter how many loops I got if I didn't do anything with the time.

  "Um, what were you talking with Hadley about this morning?" I asked, then paused. That wasn't what I had intended to ask, but the question sort of... spilled. She examined me intently as she sat on her sofa and I stood awkwardly in her living room.

  "Now, how did you know about that?" she asked, folding her fingers together and holding them to her lips.

  "I, uh, I saw you leave the garden, I was looking for him this morning," I stumbled, and she leaned forward.

  "Odd, I didn't see you," she countered. All I could offer was a half-hearted shrug and a crooked wince.

  "I uh, I'm easy to miss," I offered. She kept her gaze fixed on me. A tense silence passed before she answered.

  "I wanted Hadley's help with... a personal project. He refused. It didn't end up making a difference, since he obviously can't help now anyway," she finally said. "Is that all?" I awkwardly picked at one thumbnail with my other hand.

  "Right, uh... I wanted to ask about the, uh, Quiet," I followed, "If you had heard any rumors, or maybe seen anything. About bodies sort of... moving?" I suggested. Her expression didn't change.

  "Is there a reason you need to bother me with senseless rumors like that?" she challenged. I flinched back a bit.

  "I just... I want to help. People... People don't deserve what's happening to them. People aren't supposed to die like that. Suddenly, without warning. Their bodies... well I don't know what's happening to them but I know it shouldn't be. It's wrong, Margaret. Hadley, he was a kind man. A good man, as far as I could tell. Not the kind of man that would... I want to help. I can help, I'm certain of it," I answered. I didn't know where all of that had come from. I'd been asked similar questions all day. ‘Why did I care, did I actually believe the rumors, what could I do about it’.

  I hadn't answered like that. I'd shrugged, or made a half-hearted excuse, or some other awkward response. When this woman asked, however, I wanted her to believe I could really help. I wasn't good with words. I couldn't really describe how I felt. In fact, I'd spoken to her with far more confidence in my abilities than I actually had.

  "Do we know each other?" She asked and I could only tilt my head.

  "I'm sorry?" I asked.

  "My name. I never introduced myself. Doesn't seem like Hadley told you who I was. So have we met?" She repeated. I looked at her for a moment. That was right, I'd heard her name, but not on this run.

  I decided to come clean. I trusted this woman. I didn't know why. She hadn't exactly offered me a warm welcome. But I knew she wouldn't mock me. She wouldn't laugh or call me a liar. Maybe it was her care for the graves. "I'm sorry, I just-" I started, but she looked out the window and cut me off.

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re right,” she responded, her eyes fixed on something beyond the glass. I followed her gaze but could find nothing.

  “Right… about what?” I pushed. Her lips tightened and her muscles tensed, but I couldn’t tell why.

  “It is wrong,” she whispered. “A death like that. To be emptied. To have your body left like an ornament. To have the essence of who you are carved up and spit out like the pit of a stone fruit. People deserve better than that. Anything would be better than that. Whatever is happening, the people of this city are dying without dignity. They are being eaten, and abandoned. Their bodies considered nothing more than unsightly garbage. Any death would be a kinder death than that, don’t you think? Any death would be better than losing your soul and having your body taken from you. It is wrong.” Her voice was quiet the entire time she spoke, but it carried the intensity of a shout.

  She was right, of course. The truth of her cold rant settled on my bones like frost. As I pictured the garden on that third day. Full of bodies, piled and broken. As I remembered the distraction of the guards, while they pulled Hadley from his home and threw the corpse in a mass grave. The taverngoers, prying and snapping Marcus’ fingers. The body in the mayor’s house, broken and forgotten, like a cheap vase. It was a cruel way to end. Death was perhaps the only dignity I still had hope for, and a death like that terrified me.

  “Yes,” I responded quietly. “It is the cruelest death I can imagine. And I… I want to stop it.” She took a long, slow breath as she stared out the window.

  "You'd better head home. Or, wherever you are staying. This city can be dangerous after dark," she suggested. I half-opened my mouth, struck by the sudden dismissal. Her tone from a moment before had vanished, and with it, her interest in me.

  'Why did she even let me in? What was that all about?' I thought. It didn't make any sense. I didn’t understand what had changed. "I'm sorry, I don't under-"

  "Out," she ordered, and I closed my mouth. I didn't understand. But her face brooked no argument.

  "S-sorry," I apologized, and hurriedly left. As I made my way to Harrison's home I tried to process the odd exchange but it wouldn't slide into place. Nothing about her made any sense, not just the strange welcome and abrupt banishment. It wasn't a long walk, and I was knocking on Harrison's door before I could put the pieces together. I figured he must know Margaret, considering their close proximity. He opened it quickly when I knocked, proving himself somewhat kinder than his neighbors.

  "Any luck?" He inquired as he allowed me into the warm home. I focused on Junia and Millie, playing together on the floor as I answered.

  "None, as such. But, Harrison, can you tell me about Margaret?" I asked. He shook his head a bit at the abrupt segue.

  "Um, I suppose. Why do you want to know about her?" He questioned. I began to gnaw on one thumbnail as I thought about my answer.

  "I'm not sure," I replied, "She just felt... strange.”

  "Miss Mars," Junia called. I idly looked in her direction. "What are those lights?" I examined her in confusion, then realized she was looking past me. I turned and realized she was right. The road outside was flooded with torchlight. Far too much for a quiet part of the city like this.

  "I'm sure it's..." I trailed as I focused my eyes and looked out the window. There were people outside, carrying torches like some kind of strange parade. I didn't understand it at first and pressed one hand to the window so I could get a better view. When it did, I paled.

  Each and every one of them had the cold, waxy skin of the Quieted dead.