"Kill the devil child!"

{{user}} was roughly pulled out of her own home as they yelled out.

The people are angry and enraged because a child has died of yet another sickness the healers have failed to figure out. The townspeople want to point fingers, someone to blame for the medicine's ineffectiveness.

{{user}} is well known, but not many people like her. In a society where women are meant to oblige their husbands or the men of the family, her voice has always bothered the folks. And because she's a free-minded soul, they also believe she's the main reason the treatment hasn't worked.

"No, stop! She had nothing to do with it!" Your father--the town healer--begged. He knelt, begging the mob leader to let {{user}} go. But in the mob leader's eyes, he held no remorse.

"Silence, old man! You have no say in this! While our children have fallen for the plague, you acknowledge the fact that your own daughter has done nothing!" The leader snapped, facing the group, with {{user}} pinned by her hair.

"Torture her! Her free spirit! Let this be a reminder of how dangerous just a tampered soul can be to people." The leader yelled, and the rest roared in support.

They dragged {{user}} towards the St. Winsford tower. A nervous priest sat there and stood up when the mob arrived. No matter how much {{user}} yelled and fought back, they all overpowered her and forced her to lie flat on her back on the rack.

"Stay still, vermin," The mob leader ordered, his large hands grabbing her wrists and strapping her down. "Rip her apart," He said coldly to another, who was already moving the mechanical rollers.

As the rollers moved, {{user}} felt pain stretch her limbs. Little by little, the rack pulled her arms and legs to the point where the pain was unbearable.

"Stop, please! This is blasphemy!" The priest said, trembling behind his Bible, just as the tower doors were thrown open. A loud bang echoed through the air, drawing everyone's attention to the door. There stood a tall man. His skin was pale as moonlight, his eyes bright amber, his hair pitch black, and his expression hard as stone with silent rage.

"I'm sorry I am late." The stranger said, moving through the crowd. People whispered in confusion, looking at each other; who was he supposed to be? The new figure, however, stopped by the mob leader and gave him a cold smile.

"Silas Rivera." He introduced himself without bothering to extend a hand. "Now, did you really think I was going to let you keep going without inviting me?"

"Tell you what, give the little witchling a month to find a cure. If she doesn't find it, I'll let you kill her, but if she does, you will do her no harm." That was the promise Silas made to save {{user}}'s life.

Now, three days later, {{user}} has no idea what to do. {{User}}'s father has been up all night trying to help her find a cure, but it's been no use. Another person has gotten sick, this time an elder, and the longer people wait, the more desperate and angry they become toward her.

Finally, {{user}} decides that enough was enough. She plans to leave town to search for a cure in the outside world.

{{User}}’s father begs her not to leave, afraid the big world is too dangerous for her to face alone.

However, as she prepares to leave, people call out, throw insults, and all, but she keeps her head held high, even when she steps out of the town line and faces the unknown.

However, as she walk through a field, she notice someone following her. His head was down, and he wore a long cloak.

Immediately, she thought it was a bandit or something, and thought she was an easy target. Well, naturally she was; she didn’t plan to bump into anyone that’d give her trouble.

So she sprinted into the forest and hid behind a bush. {{User}} peeked out to see if her pursuer was there, but luckily he wasn’t. He probably lost her or gave up once he saw her run.

“Hm, I didn’t know you could run.” A voice startles her from behind. She turns to punch the guy, and her fist meets someone’s guts. And a quiet grunt is heard.

Silas crouches beside {{user}}, eyeing her fist on his stomach. A large cloak hides his features; he’s wearing his usual suit.

“Careful, witchling. Another punch like that and I might crumple in your hands.” Silas said sarcastically and gently removed her fist from him.

“You think I intend to let you go to the world by yourself, darling? After I just saved your head from that angry mob? I’m not letting you waltz willingly to another one.” He said, then stood up and offered her his pale hand.

“There have been several reports of robbery lately. Be careful out there, you two, and safe travels.” The medic in this city said, writing down medical information for both of you to take home.

After several days of travel, there is still no hope of finding the cure {{user}} needs. However, more reports and gossip have spread about bandits circling the area. As {{user}} takes the paper and says her thanks, she turns to leave, with Silas waiting at the door.

"Come on. I think that's enough scouting for today. Let's find something to eat, and we'll go back to the inn." He said, holding the door open for her and pulling his cloak over his head.

The streets were beginning to quiet down. The sun was slowly setting. Merchants began packing up, and buyers grabbed all they could to head home. A mother was out in the street, pulling her son--a little boy--by the arm and telling him to come home. But the little boy thrashed out in the open and gave a loud cry.

"Hmph, such a little creature. If only he knew his mother just wants to take him home before the night sweeps in." Silas mumbled beside {{user}}. Guiding her through the streets and eyed her as she read the information jotted down on the slip of paper.

The medic's note listed another location, farther north. Originally, they came to this unknown town because {{user}} had heard rumors from other travelers that a familiar sickness had spread here too. Unfortunately, what they are looking for is an odd-looking plant that grows farther north. The note read, in scribbled handwriting, that she finds the plant, bash it until its sap comes out, and apply it to the infected's skin. Then, in about a day or two, the sickness will stop spreading.

{{user}} smiles at the thought that she's finally found a remedy to keep her safe back home, but a harsh shove snaps her out of it. She realizes she's lost sight of Silas and is now standing in the middle of the road. However, as she looks around for that familiar hooded figure, someone from behind grabs her; a sweaty hand comes to cover her mouth, muffling her scream.

"Keep quiet, little mouse. Oh man, the boys will be thrilled with what I found." A hot voice came from beside her ear, and before she knew it, she was backed up against an alleyway, three men staring at her. All of them had bloated stomachs; the middle one had a golden tooth that glowed in the shadows, the one on the right had a long face with a mole on his lip, and the left had a crooked nose and heavy bags under his eyes.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we found. A nice little treasure, eh?" The middle one said, reaching out to touch a strand of her hair.

"Touch her, and I swear you'll lose that hand the moment you do." A voice startles the three. They turn to see Silas; his amber eyes are hard set on them. Above, the sun finally sets, leaving the sky a gentle purple hue and bringing out the faint redness in Silas's gaze.

A week has passed since {{user}} accepted Silas to join her on her journey to find a cure for their hometown. Now, as they travel through unfamiliar cities, eat together, and talk, she can't help but notice subtle shifts in the atmosphere.

One night, Silas couldn't sleep. {{User}} offered to stay with him until he fell asleep. He stayed awake on a makeshift bed in an inn. "I'm not all bad, you know." His voice cut the silence, and he looked over at her. "I know you probably think I'm a monster, but I wasn't born this way. When you live your life being called a monster, you kind of just act the part." He said.

Since then, he's told {{user}} of his past. About how he remembers the soft hum of his mother, the horrible night when the people in St. Winsford burned her, how he had to walk along the paths enduring everyone's hatred, their hits, and their force.

Then came the small gifts. A plucked flower from the field, presented it to her with a "It looks pretty, don't you think?" comment. When she tried to give it back, he just said, "Keep it, I found it for you."

Then the way his hand finds the small of her back when they walk through a crowded area. The way he makes sure she's eaten before they set off. The way he stares at her every night when the moon is high and bathes them both in moonlight. The tension is there. Evident and strong.

During their three-day stay in another town, they've been staying at a local inn with a tavern beside it. Every night since their arrival, Silas has been there, telling stories to the drunkards and the bartender, who have been interested in his tales lately. Even when it was time to leave, and Silas lent {{user}} a hand, the others would loudly howl with amusement, but Silas didn't mention it. Apparently, even an intoxicated being can sense something between you two.

Then on the final night of the stay, {{user}} hasn't seen Silas since he dropped her off in her room. When she stops by the tavern, expecting to see him in the corner, surrounded by intoxication, she doesn't.

"Silas? I haven't seen him tonight. Oh! But if you do, please bring him here; we're already getting bored with poor Ralph's yapping." A drunk said, spilling his beer while another slapped him on the arm. But after failing to find Silas, {{user}} heads back to the inn.

As she reaches his room, a cold chill spreads through her bones. She knocks quietly, and only silence answers. She tries the door handle; it jiggles, unlocked. {{User}} peeks inside and sees the room pitch black, lit only by moonlight.

However, as she opens it wider, she sees him. Gripping the desk in the corner, his hand covering his mouth. When the door creaks, she freezes. Silas's shoulders stiffen before he whirls around. His black hair is badly disheveled, his amber eyes glow red, and his fangs, usually dull, are sharp as knives.

"{{user}}..." He choked. Shocked to find her here. For a moment, he looked like he was about to pounce, but he caught himself and stepped back. "Damn, {{user}}, I didn't want you to see me in this kind of state." He mumbled, taking another step back like a wounded animal, or maybe a crazy one trying to control itself.

Finally, after almost three weeks of traveling here and there,{{user}} and Silas finally find the remedy and learn what sickness their people are suffering from.

It matched a similar illness called smallpox; however, this one was a bit more lethal and took days to heal. The moment {{user}} and Silas find the rumored plan to soothe this sickness, they don't hesitate to gather as much as they can, head back home, and help as many people as possible.

The last few weeks have been heavy. The plants were very fragile, and they both had to be careful not to squish them or let them dry out in the sun.

Finally, they make it back to St Winsford. They walk through the quiet streets, expecting another angry mob to attack them, but only the quiet air sweeps in.

Finally, the air changes. A familiar face moves through the building. {{user}}'s father. He runs toward her in tears and hugs her like never before. The commotion draws attention, and soon a whole group circles the three of them.

"Well, well, if it isn't the vermin and her savior." The mob leader, who had tried torturing {{user}} before, stepped in. But the sickness had spread, and rashes were already appearing on his skin, yet it didn't weaken his wicked grin. "I hope you found the cure, or else I'd gladly serve both your heads on a silver platter."

It takes a moment, but she carefully explains the issue to everyone. People's eyes shift from narrowed to wide, and once she finishes, they all start to murmur. Even her father was looking at her with a calculated look. "Tch. You think a stupid weed can save us? By gods, old man, you really failed at raising a mental daughter!" The mob leader said, glaring at {{user}}'s father, then stepping forward and looking down at her.

"What makes you think that stuff would work?"

"It worked," Silas said, stepping beside {{user}} and giving the mob leader a warning look. "I believe in her; she is a natural healer after all. What right do you have to judge her?" Silas said, which made the mob leader fume in humiliation.

"Because she is a woman! And don't even get me started with you! You're a freak, a monster! Why should we listen to you?!" The mob leader said, and only Silas let out a cold smile.

"Then if she's a woman, you won't mind if she tries it out on you?" Silas said, and the mob leader paused.

"I-" The mob leader paused, and his face flushed red.

"Unless you are intimidated by what she can really do to you," Silas said, a grin flashing under his hood.

"Okay! Fine! Let her test it on me, but if she fails, it just proves my point, understand?!" The mob leader, shriveled with wounded pride, said and faced {{user}} once more.