Crow watched from a distance as Penelope approached the two guards at the gate, holding his breath tensely. It was unlikely for anything to go wrong at this phase of the plan, since she wasn’t doing anything particularly threatening to the Younisians, but he was still prepared to run to her aid if she needed him.

He crouched down and leaned a little closer to the edge of the wall, straining to hear her conversation with the knights. He was far enough away that he couldn’t catch all of it, but from what he was able to understand, it sounded like the guards believed her story about seeking refuge from an abusive husband. He felt a small bubble of pride rise up in his chest. She had become quite skilled at lying. If he didn’t know better, he probably would have bought her tall tale too.

After a while, he saw two women appear from within the gates, one old and one young. They spoke to Penelope in soft voices that he couldn’t hear from his position behind the noble’s manor. However, the conversation must have gone well, because after they finished speaking, they disappeared behind the gates with Penelope.

Crow stepped away from the edge and turned around to press his back against the wall, letting out his breath in relief. So far, so good. As long as none of the castle staff figured out she was lying, Penelope would be safe in their care. All that was left was for him to sneak in after her once the sun went down that night. Until then, he would continue to prepare and learn as much as he could about the Younisian palace.

Performing a quick sweep of his surroundings to make sure no one had spotted him trespassing on the noble’s estate, the thief moved away from the wall and started to circle around the curtain wall of the castle, moving stealthily through the buildings in the surrounding citadel. It was early enough that none of the locals seemed to have woken up, but he was still careful to avoid being seen by any passing patrols. After all, he didn’t want to have to explain to anyone why he was prowling around the edge of the fortress of their beloved king while armed with poisoned weaponry.

He kept going until he reached the far side of the wall, the part that was built into the back of the keep, before he finally stopped. This area was closest to the window he had been eyeing earlier that night, so he didn’t want to wander too far off. He needed to save as much energy as he could to make the climb to the third floor, so running all the way from another part of the citadel right before would be counterproductive.

With only one day left to get ready for the mission, Crow didn’t want to waste any time. He scouted the area for a secure place to hide his bow and quiver before the sun rose and there would be more set of eyes around that might see him. After a bit of looking, he came across a garden on another noble estate. There were a few trees and large bushes to provide shade over a small seating area. It wasn’t much, but it was safer than hiding the weapon close to any stables or living quarters, where it was more likely to be found by a lucky servant.

He did one more search of the area, double checking that he was still alone, before he made his way over to the garden. When he reached it, he pulled the bow and quiver off of his shoulders and crouched down, sliding both far beneath a particularly wide bush. He climbed back to his feet and dusted himself off. [i]There,[/i] he thought smugly to himself. [i]No one is going to find that.[/i]

Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from the entrance of the manor as someone began to open the door. He hurriedly ducked behind the bushes just as a servant girl walked out, yawning tiredly as she carried an empty bucket to a well. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like she had noticed him, so he crept along the far side of the garden, staying just beyond her line of sight. He waited until she had gone back inside of the building before he finally stood up straight again.

“That was close,” he muttered under his breath. If the girl had come outside a few seconds sooner, she would have caught him stowing away his bow in the garden. He turned around to leave the estate, and then jumped back, inhaling sharply. Directly in front of him was a life-sized, bronze statue of a woman. He clutched his chest with one hand, letting out his breath as he regained his composure. [i]Gods, that startled me.[/i] He shot the statue a glare, as if it was its fault for catching him off guard. However, as he eyed at the figure’s face, he realized it looked familiar.

[i]Not you again,[/i] Crow wrinkled his nose with distaste as he recognized Aeklora’s four piercing eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder, following the statue’s gaze, only to groan inwardly when he saw that it was looking directly into the garden where he had just hidden his weapon. He turned back to the bronze figure and narrowed his eyes, “I’m only doing this to save Younis from a war. So unless you want your precious kingdom to burn, you’d better not tell anyone I was here. Got it?”

The statue, of course, said nothing.

The thief sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Nice going, Crow. You’re talking to a hunk of metal. Maybe you should see if that tree has anything to add to this weird conversation.” He shook his head, stepping around the Aeklora figure to leave the premises. With all the rumors and legends about the goddess, he was much more on edge than he normally would be before a run. He glanced back one more time to look at the statue, trying to reassure himself that there was nothing unusual about it, but instead, he felt his blood run cold. Was it just his imagination, or did one of its eyes look back at him for a second? He spun around and walked briskly away from the creepy figure.

Heart racing, he kept going until he could no longer see the bronze Aeklora. He eventually found himself weaving through shops in a luxurious-looking market that was just beginning to open. In an attempt to blend in, he mingled with the serfs in the streets who were running errands for their masters. He wandered along the edge of one road, pretending to examine various products as if he was looking for something specific. All the while, his mind reeled.

As impossible as it seemed, he could have sworn he saw the statue’s upper left eye flick in his direction for a brief moment. He didn’t know what that meant, but he was more sure than ever before that the goddess was watching him. He was also less sure about what would happen when he tried to steal the staff. He swallowed the anxious lump that had formed in his throat as his eyes wandered to the open end of the road that led away from the castle. A devilish voice began to whisper in the back of his mind: [i]It would be so easy to turn back. No one is around to stop me. I could just forget about this cursed mission and go home…[/i]

He closed his eyes, raking his fingers through his hair. [i]But I can’t. I can’t do that to Penelope. I gave her my word that I wouldn’t run.[/i] His feelings of confliction weighed down heavily on his chest, and he suddenly felt the need to get away from the crowd. He turned and ran out of the market, heading blindly down a nearby alley until the commotion died away behind him.

Once he had gotten far enough from the crowd, he leaned back against a wall, breathing heavily, and slid down to the ground. He dropped his head into his hands. He had never felt so trapped in his life. Ever since he had heard about the legend of the staff, he had gone back and forth trying to convince himself that he would be fine, but now he doubted he could take it without getting himself killed. How was he supposed to steal something that couldn’t be stolen?

As much as he wanted to save his own skin and abandon the suicidal mission, he couldn’t break his promise to Penelope either. She was relying on him to stop the war, and he couldn’t let her down just because he was afraid.

[i]Afraid.[/i] The word rang in his head. Yes, that was what he was feeling. He was afraid of dying. He didn’t want to touch the staff if it meant his heart might stop. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to run away—to run as far from the danger as possible, but he couldn’t because of his loyalty to Penelope.

He felt a pang of longing, wishing she was by his side again. Her presence gave him resolve, and that was something he desperately needed at that moment. As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, so did his temptation to bolt. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. He focused on Penelope, the one he was doing this for. He thought about her kind smile, her warm embrace, her gentle voice, her soft lips, and everything else he loved about her. Slowly, he felt his pulse decrease and the pressure in his chest dissipate.

[i]I can do this,[/i] he thought with restored confidence. [i]It’s not my fate to die tonight. It can’t be—not while I still have so much to live for.[/i] He looked up at the blue sky above, hoping Penelope was faring better on her end than he was.