"Grandmother wrote about this in one of her notebooks," Enfri said. "It's called battle fatigue. Hardly anything is known about it. It comes from deep shocks, like witnessing something horrifying. It's an affliction of the mind and not the body."

She stared at her reflection in the cup of tea Goodwife Smith had brought her. After hearing what the blacksmith had to say, Enfri had been inconsolable. The goodwife spirited her away from the bedroom and had her sit in a chair near the kitchen.

"The war was fifteen years ago," Goodwife Smith said. The woman was a marvel. After taking Enfri away, she got her husband to lie down and rest, then came back to comfort Enfri. She had brought a chair from elsewhere in the house and sat in it close to Enfri's side. It was remarkable how she could manage to do so much when she understood little and was as frightened as anyone else. "Why now? It doesn't make sense."

"It happens," Enfri explained. Her voice was weak, and it still shook. She concentrated on what she remembered of battle fatigue. If she didn't focus, she'd think of other things. "It usually affects people right away, but it can sometimes take years to manifest. They see something or do something that reminds them, and it all comes back. Grandmother called it a trigger."

Goodwife Smith's hands were shaking. "What can I do? How will he be cured? I don't want to lose my husband to an asylum."

"It's not like that," Enfri told her. She began reciting the passages Grandmother had written on the affliction. "He hasn't gone mad. His instincts are telling him he's in danger. Reassure him that he's safe and that you know he's not imagining it. His fears are valid, and it's only the severity of his reaction to them that are irrational."

Goodwife Smith whispered a prayer to the wind. Her eyes were sympathetic when she looked at Enfri. "I'm sorry you had to hear such things. I didn't realize that you were Yora and Mierwyn's until it was too late."

A kind and remarkable woman, but as sharp as a log. How in the king's name could she have forgotten that already?

"What was it that could have been a... trigger?"

There was only one thing Enfri could believe it to be, but she was hesitant to reveal that assassins had been in the Smith home. There was no purpose in frightening Goodwife Smith more.

"I don't know," Enfri said quietly. "It might have been anything."

"Thank you for helping him," Goodwife Smith went on. "How did you get so smart when you're still so young?"

I think of her as dull, but I'm giving myself far too much credit.

Enfri sipped her tea before replying. "I don't know anything that Grandmother didn't write down. I've never learned anything that she didn't teach me. I'm a poor replacement."

Goodwife Smith put a hand on Enfri's knee. "Don't you worry about that. There's plenty of time for you to grow on your own merit. Janwyn must have many years left to her, yet. She's the sort that will live forever."

Enfri opened her mouth to respond, but didn't know what to say. Didn't the goodwife know? It seemed impossible that she hadn't heard. I told her myself just the other day. Didn't I? No one can be that oblivious.

The sound of the front door opening drove those thoughts from Enfri's mind. The voice she heard coming into the house was unmistakable. Haythe was recounting some story to his sister.

Enfri had been preparing herself for this meeting since leaving home. She had run through enough scenarios in her head that her hands began moving as if they were drilled for it. Enfri pulled off her shawl and let her hair spill over her shoulders. Freshly cleaned and washed, it shone like gold. Even Mother would have said that Enfri's hair was her best feature.

It was demanding, and more than a little uncomfortable, but Enfri did her best to sit up straight in her chair. As long as no one looked closely, she'd might only look like a girl who slouched too much.

Kiffa was the first to enter. She stopped in her tracks and looked at Enfri as if she were a stranger. It must have surprised her to find a sky woman here again so soon.

Haythe followed immediately after. Enfri was pleased to see that his attention landed first on her hair. The way he goggled at it was most satisfying.

"Your pardon," Haythe said. "I didn't know we had company, ma."

"Quite alright," Goodwife Smith said. "You remember Enfri. The apprentice sky woman?"

Enfri felt some chagrin at the comment. The day before, the goodwife had been calling her a full-fledged sky woman in her own right. It seemed she'd been given a demotion.

Enfri cleared her throat. "I don't know if I thanked you for the cart ride, Haythe. After you left with the... err... the hunters, I worried that you'd be alright."

She hoped the smile she was giving him was a pretty one. Enfri's luck with smiles was suspect, to say the least.

"The hunters." Haythe said. He furrowed his brow and blinked. "Right. I... met them at the sky woman's house."

Enfri felt the smile fade from her lips. Something wasn't right.

Haythe's sister approached. "It's nice to meet you. Haythe's my brother. My name is Kiffa."

"You actually met Enfri before, dear," Goodwife Smith said. "It was... Oh my, I can't quite remember. Was it when you broke your arm, Haythe? The anvil incident?"

Haythe shrugged and laughed. "Had other things on my mind, ma."

Enfri wanted to scream at them. She was with them just two nights ago. Why were they acting like they didn't know her? She didn't understand what was going on. Was this some ridiculous betrothal tradition? Make the prospective daughter-in-law believe that everyone was stark raving mad? Either that, or they had really forgotten her.

No, that was ludicrous. It wasn't as if the entire family was senile. They all couldn't be that forgetful. That would be like...

Enfri felt a shiver travel up and down her entire body. She looked over at Haythe. The boy blinked every time he looked at Enfri, as if being reminded she was even there.

He didn't remember her. None of them did.

Enfri stood as fast as her back allowed. "I... need to be going. Thank you for the tea."

"So soon?" Goodwife Smith asked. "Will Brandyn be..."

"Stay with him. He may come out of it. Just keep feeding him like I said until he's stronger. You remember that, don't you?"

Goodwife Smith blinked, then gave her a slow nod. "Yes," she said as if in a daze. "Yes, you did tell me recently. Was that today?"

"The night before last. Haythe came to my home." She looked at the boy pleadingly. "You brought me here on your horse. I treated your father for iron fever. The next day you took me home in the cart."

"Yeah," Haythe said with a nod. He looked as if he was trying to remember something that had happened months ago. "You... lost your cat on the way there, right?"

Forgotten, but not erased, Enfri thought. She was unsure if that was a relief or not. Something was dreadfully wrong with this whole family.

Perhaps this was a part of the iron fever that Grandmother's notes didn't describe, and the Smiths were all affected. Short term memory loss and possible disorientation. If everyone had it, it would have to be environmental. The only cause Enfri could think of was the iron ore, but the assassins should have been thorough in removing all of it.

The only other possibility she could think of was...

"There are no arcanists in Sandharbor anymore."

Enfri nearly stumbled as she went towards the front door. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll read Grandmother's notebooks and see if I can learn anything more."

Goodwife Smith followed Enfri. She gave gentle pleasantries and asked if she would perhaps stay for lunch. Enfri declined as graciously as she could, but she knew she must have sounded harried. She put on her shawl and almost forgot her basket in her hurry to escape.

As she hobbled from the house to the road, Enfri looked over her shoulder. Goodwife Smith, Kiffa, and Haythe watched her leave with confused expressions, but they soon turned away and went back inside.

Have they already forgotten I was there? Enfri wondered. She looked west towards her home. The notebooks might hold an answer, but Enfri had a horrible feeling that what was affecting the Smith family wouldn't be found there.

Instead, Enfri turned her feet east, towards the village. She couldn't think as she travelled the path. There was nothing in her thoughts but wild panic and the desperate hope that she was wrong.

It can't be true, she told herself. It's impossible. I don't believe it. I won't!

The clouds were beginning to darken when Enfri came to the outer ring of structures that surrounded Sandharbor. Cold, dry wind blew in from the west and tugged at her shawl. The weather was turning towards a desert storm, the herald of an early winter.

Thatched, wooden homes were crowded into dense but orderly lanes. Enfri didn't see anyone on the cobblestone streets. The villagers were retreating indoors to escape the coming weather.

She had to find someone. Enfri needed to know that what she feared wasn't true and she was just being silly. She had been on her own for too long, and it was affecting her mind. Madness would be preferable.

Enfri caught sight of a face she recognized. A young woman with well-made shoes jogged across the street while holding her shawl tight.

"Goodwife Cobbler," Enfri shouted over the rising wind. She waved an arm over her head to catch the girl's attention.

The shoemaker's new wife stopped and squinted in Enfri's direction. She got a worried look and came trotting over.

Please. You know me. I gave you tomatoes and sunwillow. You thought I was going to turn you into a newt. You don't forget something like that. Please, remember me.

"Are you well?" Goodwife Cobbler asked as she got close. "There's a storm on the way, Oldwife. You should get to shelter."

Enfri dropped her basket. Her bundles of dried herbs spilled over the cobblestones and were taken by the wind. She hardly noticed. Enfri's eyes were wide with horror.

It was affecting everyone, and Enfri felt she knew what it was. Grandmother had taught her how to diagnose an affliction— how to take in every relevant piece of information and fit them together like a puzzle. Enfri had been trained to find the sickness and the root cause, and she now knew what was wrong.

It was magic.

Enfri fled. Goodwife Cobbler called after her that it wasn't safe to be on the road, but Enfri ignored the warnings. She only wanted to get away.

As she hobbled up the road and out of the village, Enfri looked over her shoulder. Goodwife Cobbler wasn't following. She picked up Enfri's fallen basket and looked around in confusion. Goodwife Cobbler returned home, unaware that she had just been talking to someone.

Enfri was cursed to be forgotten. Perhaps Mother and Grandmother as well.

"There is no magic within a hundred leagues but mine."

A rock caused Enfri to trip. She sprawled over the dirt as the first warm drops of rain began to fall. Enfri clamped her eyes shut and bared her teeth, but she failed to hold back her tears.

"Remember that when it comes time to lay blame."

"Deebee," Enfri whispered. "Why?"

She crawled to her feet and continued up the road without a destination in mind. The storm continued to grow. The rain became cold as the wind picked up. Enfri lost track of how many times she slipped and fell into the mud.

So much became clear. This was the reason no one seemed to know that Mother and Grandmother were dead, why no one ever knew her on sight, and likely the reason few ever came to seek help from a sky woman.

Everything felt numb, both from the cold and the shock. Enfri wished to feel something again. If she didn't, it might as well be over. An end. Let Jin or Dashar step from the shadows and finish her off, just like their ilk murdered Father.

Enfri had never known him. The king's assassins murdered Father in Teularon before Enfri drew her first breath. It was burned into her mind, even though she hadn't witnessed it. She could see it as if she had been there.

A man with golden hair was at the center of a battle on a hillock. An assassin stood before him with a sword plunged into his chest. Enfri saw the assassin as Gain, then she blinked and it became Maya. Then Dashar, and finally Jin. Had it been one of them who killed Father, or had it been some other beast-eyed monster?

What does it matter? Enfri wondered. No one cares. Father died fifteen years ago, and no one can remember his family. It doesn't matter.

Enfri collapsed, and she didn't have the strength to pick herself back up again. She sobbed to herself. Cold and muddy. Miserable, crippled, and alone. Forgotten.

Somewhere in the distance there was a cry. She thought it might have been someone calling her name. That couldn't be. Who would ever remember Enfri? The sky women were cursed to fade from memory.

She couldn't open her eyes. Too weak. The sound of the rain became distant and hazy. It was like falling into a dream.

The call came again, much louder or just closer. A tremor thundered through the ground beneath Enfri, and something wrapped around her waist. She was lifted up out of the mud, and in the moments before she fell unconscious, Enfri thought she heard the sound of wings beating against the air.