Chapter 17: Chapter 16: Trouble Comes In Four

Finn still clung to her sleeve as they walked, eyes darting at every sound in the trees.

Mira kept her senses sharp, but the presence was gone. No footsteps behind them. No watching eyes. Just the wind.

Still, she didn’t relax.

They followed the trail back down the cliffside, past the old cedar, through the patch of wildflowers now swaying gently, as if nothing had happened.

By the time they reached the outskirts of town, the sky had shifted into its early afternoon warmth—bright and deceptively peaceful.

Finn finally spoke, voice hushed. “They weren’t just passing through, were they?”

“No,” Mira said.

“Are they going to do something bad?” Finn's eyes filled with worry.

“I’m not sure.” She glanced at him. “But if you see them in town… stay away. Got it?”

Finn nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

She ruffled his curls, just enough to make him scowl and puff his cheeks. “You did well today. Both the spark… and staying calm.”

He straightened. “Of course. I’m a genius!”

“Yes, you are. And you were very brave,” she said gently. “But next time, don’t wait for me to tell you to hide. Do it on your own.”

“Got it,” he said. Then added, “But I still want to learn lightning.”

She smiled, and the heaviness in her chest lightened just a little.

They made their way down to the town square.

The bakery sat at the far end, its windows glowing with warmth, the air outside filled with the scent of cinnamon and fresh loaves.

Finn bounded up the steps. “Dad! Mira-nee says I did great today!”

The baker—Ralph, a broad-shouldered man with flour in his beard—looked up from kneading dough. “Did she now?”

“He sparked,” Mira added from the doorway. “Small, but real.”

“Ha!” Ralph laughed, clapping floury hands. “That’s my boy.”

Mira gestured with the jar in her hand, smiling. “Thanks for the ginger.”

“Anytime, Mira.” His smile dimmed slightly as he looked at her more closely. “You all right?”

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Just have something on my mind.”

“Give your father my regards,” Ralph said, already pulling Finn into a playful headlock. “And tell him to stop bragging about his daughter every time he sees me. Because now I’ve got my own Saint of the South!”

“Daaaad!” Finn groaned.

Mira laughed softly and stepped back into the sunlit square, letting the cheerful sound follow her.

But her expression sobered quickly as she turned toward the Adventurer’s Guild.

The guild building sat near the harbor wall—old stone and timber weathered by sea air and decades of use.

A carved sign swung above the heavy double doors: a sword crossed with a fishing spear—Mermaid’s Cove’s unofficial motto.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Inside, the noise hit first—voices, laughter, mugs clinking, the clatter of boots on wooden floorboards.

Adventurers of all stripes were scattered across the main hall: a half-elf arguing with a dwarven cook, a party of rookies hunched over a quest board, and a group of fishers loudly comparing kraken rumors.

Mira walked through it all, nodding to those who greeted her. She was well-known here—not for her power, but for her kindness. Her healing. Her quiet presence.

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She waved at the receptionist—Lana—then went up to her father’s office.

The door was half-open. Mira knocked lightly and stepped in.

Garron looked up from his desk, papers in one hand, an ink smudge on his cheek.

His stern face brightened the instant he saw her.

“Mira.” He stood. “Everything all right?”

She didn’t answer immediately—just closed the door behind her.

Then she said, “There’s something you need to hear.”

Garron set the papers down and gave her his full attention.

The lines on his weathered face—etched by years of battle and bureaucracy alike—deepened slightly as he studied her expression.

“I’m listening,” he said. “What happened?”

Mira stayed standing for a moment longer, fingers laced in front of her. “Four strangers showed up on the cliffs during my lesson with Finn.”

That got his attention. He straightened, the edge in his voice sharpening. “Strangers?”

She nodded. “Not locals. Not passersby, either. They said they were travelers… observers.”

His brow furrowed. “What did they want?”

“Me.” Mira moved closer, her voice low. “They were chasing rumors about the Saintess of the South.”

The room stilled.

Garron’s jaw tightened. “Did they figure out it’s you?”

“Finn called me by name,” she said. “The leader put the pieces together.”

Garron sank into his chair, bracing one hand on the desk. “Did they say where they came from?”

Mira shook her head. “No. But they were trained. The way they stood, moved—definitely not civilians.”

“Adventurers?” Garron asked.

Mira shrugged. “Maybe. Or someone with military background. But they’re good at hiding what they are.”

He drummed his fingers once, then went still. “And they let you leave?”

Mira nodded. “They actually left the cliff before us. But the leader said they’d be staying in town ‘for a while.’”

His eyes narrowed. “First a prince drops into town. Now this. Mermaid’s Cove is getting too popular for my liking.”

He looked up at her—his daughter, so strong and self-assured now. Yet in his mind, it hadn’t been that long since she used to cling to his knee, small and wide-eyed, as if it were just yesterday.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“We need to watch them,” Mira said. “Quietly. And ask the mayor to increase street patrols. More strangers could be coming.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark with promise. “If they try anything, they’ll regret ever setting foot in this town.”

Mira gave him a small smile. “Not just me, Father. There’s also a prince in town. We can’t let anything happen to him either.”

A knock came at the door—soft, but urgent.

It creaked open.

Lana stepped in, her expression unusually tense.

“Master,” she said, casting a glance toward Mira before continuing, “an adventurer just stopped by. Said something you might want to hear.”

Garron gestured for her to go on.

“He said four strangers have been going around town—asking questions,” she said. “Specifically about the Saintess of the South.”

Mira and Garron exchanged a glance.

Lana continued. “They’ve been moving from inn to inn, shop to shop. Asking the same thing—‘Have you heard of a girl named Mira?’ ‘Blonde hair, green eyes?’ ‘Healer?’ That sort of thing.”

“Were they aggressive?” Garron asked.

Lana shook her head. “No. They were polite. Too polite. People said it felt… off. So they didn’t tell much.”

Mira folded her arms. “It has to be them. I guess they’re trying to confirm what they already suspect.”

Lana nodded. “That’s what it sounded like. The adventurer said the last he saw of them, they were heading toward the docks.”

Garron’s jaw tightened. “Looks like they’re not wasting time, either.”

There was a pause.

Then he stood. “Lana, send someone to the mayor. Ask for two extra patrols on the harbor routes and another on the upper market streets. Even just to increase presence would help.”

“Yes, Master.” Lana nodded briskly and turned on her heel, already halfway out the door.

Garron turned back to Mira. “From now on, you better arm yourself wherever you go. And be extra careful.”

“You too, Father,” she said softly but firmly. “Don’t forget about the vampire.”

He grinned and pulled a crossbow from under the table. "I didn’t," he said.

"Agreed," she chuckled softly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The warmth of earlier had drained from the room, leaving only a shared understanding between them.

Then Garron walked over and placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Whatever they’re here for… we’ll face it. You’re not alone.”

Mira offered a faint, grateful smile. “I know.”

Outside the window, the sounds of the town drifted in—seagulls, carts, distant voices. But underneath it all, there was a shift in the wind.

The kind that only comes before a storm.