"So, Grace," the handler started, an eager grin on his face, "about the job, it's difficult, but with your precision and speed, it should be no problem!"

"Okay," Grace said with a nod. Before he could continue, she asked, "Does it involve killing people?"

The handler frowned for a split second in a confused manner and answered, "Uh, yeah, it does—"

Grace shot up from her seat with a smile and interrupted with, "Then it's not a job for me!"

The handler's face shifted into a scowl and he barked, "What? But you said you'd take my job next!"

"True," Grace acknowledged, turning away from the handler, "but I don't take jobs that require murder, simple as that. Sorry if I wasted your time, but you're gonna have to find someone else!"

"But I...I cleaned up that drunkard's vomit for you!" the handler protested, his face getting redder by the second.

"Oh yeah!" Grace recalled, putting a finger to her chin. "Well, thanks for that! But it won't change my mind."

"You little..." he growled. With a final huff, he got up from the table and walked away grumbling something along the lines of, "That's what I get for expecting more from a swordswoman..."

Grace rolled her eyes, not letting the insult get to her. There was a knock on the door, and she went to answer it. She was already on her way out anyway to go and find the other swordsmen to be at the induction that night. She peered through the grille to find a familiar face. She removed the lock from the door and opened up for him. "Hey again, it's Jerry, right?"

The rugged man opened his mouth to answer, a slight annoyance on his face. His eyes shifted a little, seeming to try and find a good way to respond, and he answered, "Close. It's Jeremy."

Grace snapped her fingers and said, "That's it! Sorry."

Jeremy waved it off and responded, "It's alright. Can't be as memorable as Grace the Gleeful, can I?"

"Nope!" she answered jokingly. They laughed a bit, and she continued, "I still really appreciate what you did for me the other night, y'know. I actually landed my first job in a long time because of that."

"Ah, it's no big deal. I've actually been meaning to apologize for blowing you off afterwards."

"Blowing me off?" Grace repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I was kinda mad because...I kinda got slapped in the face."

"What?" Grace asked with an uncontrollable laugh. "Who slapped you in the face?"

Jeremy rubbed his cheek, as if he still felt its effects. "Daryl the Dauntless... Good Lord that was a hit..."

Grace's eyes slowly got big thinking about how furious Daryl must have been that night.So Mallory wasn't the only one he took it out on, huh...? "That...must've really hurt. Anyway, what's this about blowing me off?"

"Well, I was pretty stale when you tried to talk to me," he explained, stretching his arms out. "I could tell you were interested, but I was way too irritated to talk. But hey, I'm in a better mood now, obviously. So, if ya wanna talk now, I'm all ears!"

What is he talking about? I didn't even get his name right. Grace started to remember the self-flattering drunk who set her off about a month ago, and some remnants of that behavior seemed to be gradually manifesting in that moment. There was something about his smirk and the way he kept stretching around that gave her the impression that he was trying to make himself look good. A corner of Grace's mouth raised in a snarl and she responded, "I was just thanking you that night, that's all."

"Sure," he replied with a wide grin, watching her hurriedly walk past him, "whatever you say!"

"I meant it!" she called back, trying to avoid an elongated rejection. Grace inhaled sharply and shook her head while she walked away. That guy's still full of himself, huh?

***

Mallory went about her laps up and down the stairs with the log over her shoulder as usual, Daryl keeping a critical eye on her progress. Although she still felt a bit shaky under the weight of the log, it did not feel as overbearing as it had on her previous training days. What was usually a slow trudge up the stirs felt more like a steady march.

Good. She's getting stronger. Daryl looked on with crossed arms, seeing his determined apprentice unwavering through her exercise. Although he was glad to see her getting more accustomed to the training, he knew that getting too comfortable with it would lead to mediocre results. A few more laps and I'll have her climb the log again. Tomorrow, I'll give her a bigger hunk of wood to carry up and down the stairs. Her progress will not stagnate.

"Hey, Dauntless," a familiar voice called from behind Daryl.

He looked back to find a shorter man with a scar over his eye, Braden the Brash, with his serrated sword drawn. Daryl did not get a good look at his facial expression before looking back at his apprentice, and with that natural, hiss like tone of his, it was unclear what he wanted. Thinking back to his last encounter with the man, and how he claimed to be better than him right before being beaten, Daryl rolled his eyes and asked, "Looking for trouble?"

"No," Braden answered.

Daryl looked back at him and glanced at his drawn sword.

Braden noticed where Daryl's attention was, and he sheathed his weapon in the scabbard at his side. He then looked up at Mallory and said, "I'm just curious."

Daryl looked back at Mallory and asked, "What is it?"

Braden squinted his eyes at the girl, approaching Daryl's side. "What kind of training is this? She's not even using a sword."

"She's building her strength and stamina first," Daryl explained. "She was starving when I first found her, so rushing into sword fighting without exercising her full body first won't do much good."

"Starving?" Braden repeated, baffled by the thought of Daryl choosing a dying girl to be his apprentice. "Why did you choose her in the first place then?"

Daryl examined Mallory's movement and saw the familiar flame in the girl's eyes as she pressed on. "Because she has something to fight for. So, I know she won't quit, no matter how hard it gets or how long it takes."

Braden was quiet for a moment, looking back and forth between Daryl and Mallory, and then repeated under his breath, "Something to fight for..." With that, he grunted and walked away.

Daryl watched him go and wondered why he approached him in the first place. Maybe he's just trying to learn from me.

***

What Mallory dreaded the most about training that day came to fruition with the order of climbing the log. Not only was it difficult to do without having done any training prior to the feat, but Daryl asked her to climb right after she had done laps up and down the stairs for what seemed like hours. Nevertheless, Mallory put forth her best effort and managed to make it to the top of the log once again, standing on its surface and shaking with fatigue.

Daryl told her that he wanted her to stay up there for about an hour, to which she almost panicked at the sheer prospect of having to balance on the log for twice as long as she did before, but she calmed herself down knowing that all she would have to do is stand still a little longer. Thinking of it that way, she kept up her stance longer than she thought she ever could. Some of the other swordsmen looked up at her in awe. She did not notice any of their looks, keeping her eyes forward and staying concentrated on maintaining her equilibrium. "About ten minutes left," Daryl announced, "then, you'll try it on one foot again."

Mallory responded to her master with a hard gulp and closing her eyes. She remembered her first attempt at standing on one foot and how she did not even last a full ten seconds. With that fear in her mind, closing her eyes to a similar darkness she experienced that last night proved to be a big mistake. While she was up there, it was like she was being suspended against her will, much like being in that void. With those aspects of the dream resurfacing in that moment, those fiery eyes formed before her and the voice boomed in her head. Mallory!Her eyes flashed open with a start, and she gasped feeling her balance get thrown off. She stumbled and fell to her right.

Daryl's eyes got big and he jumped up to catch her again, the sand flying up in the air in reply to his landing. Even though she was safe in his arms, he still felt her shaking against his body. He knit his eyebrows, remembering the look on her face right before she fell, and asked, "What happened?"

Mallory frowned, taking shaky breaths, and answered, "You wouldn't believe me..."

Daryl narrowed his eyes and set her down on her feet gently. He looked around to see if there was anyone listening to them. Sure enough, he found some wandering eyes, to which they looked away immediately. The only one who kept staring was Braden, who seemed curious as to what set the girl off. In response to their gazing, Daryl pulled Mallory away from the spectators. "What are you saying?" he demanded. "What wouldn't I believe?"

Mallory wrapped her arms around herself and looked away.

"I've seen a lot of things, girl," Daryl explained, giving the jagged scar on his neck a rub and a painful glance. "And with Liam here, there isn't much I wouldn't believe at this point."

Mallory hesitated, thinking that there was not much Daryl could do to help her anyway, but then she wondered if he would be willing to confide in her in return. She looked up at the bandage on his head, remembering the fact that he just came back from a job, one in which he likely had to kill someone for money. She looked down and asked, "Did you kill someone yesterday...?"

Daryl's eyes shifted away from her for a moment, and then he answered, "I did. But..." He remembered the look on Madison's face as he stood over him. The boy looked so helpless, so fragile. He was the one he was supposed to kill. Instead, he ended up killing one for sure, and possibly others from their injuries, in self-defense. "I didn't kill the target."

Mallory looked up at him with a confused look. "Then, who did you—"

"Things spiraled out of control," he interrupted, "and later, when it came down to it, I didn't have it in me to kill the target..."

Mallory blinked a few times, trying to fathom what could have happened that caused Daryl to back down from the job. "Why didn't you?"

He looked down at her, thinking back to the time he found her stealing from the fruit merchant and how skinny she was. Then, he looked away and dismissed her question with, "I have my reasons." He hardened his expression and turned his attention back to her. "Now tell me. What's going on?"

She started rubbing her arms up and down, feeling cold just thinking about those dreams. "I think...someone's watching me...in my sleep."

Daryl crossed his arms and asked, "Who?"

"I...I don't know."

"What does he look like?" Daryl questioned. "Have you actually seen him?"

"No. I haven't really seen him at all..." she answered, trying to work up the nerve to explain that it is a being in her dreams.

Daryl tilted his head downwards in a flustered confusion. "Then...where do you think he was watching you?"

"He was...in my dreams..."

Daryl raised his head, unsure how to respond to what she was telling him. "What makes you think this person is real?"

"I just heard him," Mallory explained, knitting her eyebrows, "right before I fell. I've heard him outside my dreams before, too. But it's in my head. I don't know how he's doing it..."

"Do you think...this is some sort of sorcery?" Daryl asked, not wanting to believe that Liam or one of his guild members were up to something.

Mallory took a deep breath and nodded. "I've never had dreams like these before. And they feel so real."

"What does he want from you?"

The corner of her lip twitched remembering something he said to her: "I heard what you said to her. Stop lying to yourself." What was he talking about?She thought back to her conversation with Grace and what the voice said to her about wanting to rid the world of Eagle Eye, and that is when it cliqued in her mind. She raised her head with realization and answered, "I think he wants me to kill Eagle Eye..."

Daryl's eyes shifted back and forth with further puzzlement. He placed a hand on his chin and began to think. "What would he have to gain from that?"

"I don't know..."

With a long exhale, Daryl lowered his arms and decided, "We'll talk to Liam about it after the induction.'

Mallory's eyebrows shot up at the thought of Daryl threatening Liam again. "No, he's not—"

"I know," Daryl interrupted. "It's not his doing. I've known for a while now that he cares for you. Still, he might have answers for us. We can't ignore that much." Daryl turned around and started walking back over to where they were before she fell. "In the meantime, let's continue your training."

***