River Meer's footsteps were dulled in the abandoned mansion. Clutching her book to her chest, the mute girl made her way through the house to the stairs. She didn't like to steal, but to survive, she would do what was necessary. Besides, she knew the people in this house had been sorcerers and had been lynched by the Witchfinders. Surely they wouldn't mind sharing what they had with someone like them.

River mounted the stairs, wincing as her tangled-up curls of brown hair brushed against the recently-opened wounds on her back. Yet another beating ... why did people hate her so much? The ten-year-old wiped tears from her cheeks and continued up the stairs. She would get what she needed and get out of here before anyone was the wiser.

A sound came from above her, and she jumped in surprise. What was that ...? It couldn't a ghost—could it be? Magic could make strange things. River had never believed anyone when they told her ghosts didn't exist. Magic did; why not the unquiet spirits of the dead?

Whatever it was, River had no desire to meet it. She stopped on the stairs, wishing the light of the full moon outside would shine in the building. But the windows were all boarded up, and there was no illumination. It was pitch black.

Whimpering soundlessly, River started to step back and forgot she was on a flight of stairs. The girl fell backwards, sobbing, and slammed into the floor at the bottom. It was a good thing she hadn't been higher up, or she would have been killed. Still, the pain flooded through her, blinding her with tears and overcoming her.

A burst of uncontrolled magic burst from River. Flames licked at the walls of the mansion, and by the light of the fire she'd made, River saw the shadow of something coming down the stairs towards her. Screaming but not making a sound, River staggered to her feet, exhausted and drained by the spell she'd inadvertently cast. Could the ghost kill her?

The figure came into full view at the top of the steps, and River's horror increased tenfold. It wasn't a ghost—it was a Witchfinder. Even worse! River turned and ran, her book clutched to her chest. The Witchfinder wanted her dead more than a ghost ever would! What River wouldn't give to know why everyone in Corttann wanted to kill her so badly ... but her memory was like her voice. Nonexistent.

She stopped abruptly. The flames blocked her path to the door. What in the world could she do? Trembling, she turned as the Witchfinder approached her slowly, his cowl covering his face. She wanted to scream, but her muteness robbed her even of that comfort.

Then the Witchfinder did something unexpected. The gloved hand reached up and pushed the cowl from his—no ... her face. Black curly hair fell around her face, and dark green eyes stared piercingly at River. River fell to her knees, seeing the knife in the young woman's hand. But the Witchfinder surprised her again. She grabbed River's arm and hauled her to her feet. "Come with me, River Meer," she ordered. "Unless you want to be around when my cohorts arrive."

Since the woman was apparently offering to help River, she went with her as the Witchfinder brought her around the fire and to a window. The pommel of the knife shattered the window and the Witchfinder hauled River out before scrambling after her. River went to write in her book but the woman stopped her. "No need," she said. "Just get going. I know you're grateful. Just know that my involvement with the Witchfinders ends today."

River smiled her gratitude and ran off. The Witchfinder watched her go before tucking the knife back into her hip. "This is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into now, Bramson," Milah Bramson muttered to herself. The Witchfinders would want her dead for letting River Meer escape.

That was a problem for another day. Milah's problem for today was escaping with her life and keeping it for as long as she could. Perhaps she could take over her father's tavern ... whatever she planned to do, she needed to get away before the rest of the Witchfinders arrived. She ran off, towards the mountains. The moon was covered by a cloud, and Milah's form was little more than a shadow as she left the burning mansion behind.