The Debt Collector - Elara
I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing. My ribs ached where Hector’s boot had landed, but pain was a familiar companion, one I’d long since learned to ignore. Bruises faded. Hunger dulled. Exhaustion could be pushed aside. What mattered was survival, and survival demanded I get up, keep moving, and make sure today went according to plan.
I pressed a hand against my side, forcing myself upright. The latch to my shop stuck as usual, but I yanked it open and flipped the sign to OPEN, though no one would come calling this early. The kiln’s glow from across the way had long been extinguished, the other smiths already at rest. But my breastplate waited, polished and perfect, gleaming faintly in the forge light like a prize. It wasn’t just steel—it was payment. Freedom, at least for a few weeks. Until Hector came slinking back like a snake, demanding more.
At the water basin, I splashed cold water across my face. It shocked me awake, streaks of soot swirling into gray ribbons before dripping away. I scrubbed at my cheeks and jaw until the grime was gone, but no amount of water would wash away the tiredness. I leaned toward the dented scrap of tin I used as a mirror.
The reflection staring back was still me—blue eyes too sharp, cheekbones hollow from too many skipped meals, dark hair frizzed wildly from nights bent over the forge. I barely recognized the girl who used to laugh, who used to dream. And yet, beneath the weariness, I caught a flicker. Something fierce. Something untamed. A reminder that I was not beaten yet.
By the time the sun lifted its head over the horizon, I had wrapped the breastplate in cloth and strapped it across my back. Its weight pressed into me with every step, but instead of dragging me down, it grounded me. This was my chance. If the Beta was pleased, word would spread. Orders would follow. And maybe, just maybe, I could claw my way out of the pit Hector kept shoving me into.
The main road into town would have been safer, but slower. I couldn’t afford slow. Instead, I cut toward the forest, where the trail wound between the trees like a hidden thread.
The morning was crisp, dew clinging to every blade of grass, and I breathed in deeply. The forest smelled of damp earth and pine, of moss and wildflowers crushed beneath my boots. Sunlight pierced through the canopy in thin golden shafts, catching on the dust I kicked up, turning each step into a shimmer of light. For a moment, I allowed myself to smile. Here, among the trees, no one whispered about the blacksmith girl who had no parents, no coin, no future. Here, I wasn’t the girl scraping by. I was just Elara—strong, steady, and moving toward something new.
Then a twig snapped.
The sound was sharp, deliberate. My skin prickled. I froze, breath caught, ears straining. The forest, once alive with birdsong and the rush of the creek, seemed to hush.
Then came the scent—sharp, unmistakable, and layered. Wolves. More than one.
My heart pounded. I was near the border between packs, I realized with a jolt. My steps had carried me farther than I’d meant. Foolish. Careless. The coal dust that still clung faintly to my skin might mask my trail for a time, but if they wanted me, they would find me.
Still, the scent carried no rot, none of the rancid stench that marked rogues who had lost their humanity. These were pack wolves. I might have wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time, but that was survivable—if I kept my wits.
I moved more carefully, placing each step with deliberate quiet. Twenty yards. Maybe less. If I could make it past the ridge, I’d be in sight of the townhall clearing.
I never made it.
A sudden blow struck the back of my head. Pain flared white-hot, my vision swimming as I stumbled forward to my knees. I gasped, clutching at the dirt, the breastplate dragging heavy across my back.
Through the haze, I clawed my way to the nearest tree, pressing my spine against the rough bark. At least there, I could defend from one side. My breaths came short and fast.
“Taylor,” a voice drawled from the trees. Male, mocking. “Looks like you need more reps at the gym. This one’s still moving.”
Laughter followed, sharp and cruel. Shapes emerged, four of them, shadows in the early light.
I swung the breastplate from my back, crouching low behind it. The steel I had poured my soul into now became my shield. My fingers trembled, but I gripped the edges tight. If they wanted me, they’d have to fight through my work to get it.
“Hard-headed little thing,” another voice remarked, deeper. “Still thinks she can fight. If only she knew it was useless.”
The voice was too calm, too rehearsed, as though he’d said the same thing to a dozen others before me. My stomach knotted.
“I promise it will hurt less if you come quietly,” he added, tone slick as oil.
I swallowed hard, forcing my shaking breath into steadiness. “I have this breastplate, specially made for the Beta of this land,” I called out, voice louder than I thought I had left in me. “I need to deliver it by ten—and receive my payment. If you stop me, you answer to him.”
Silence followed. My heart thudded, wild and desperate.
Then Taylor’s mocking voice returned. “Come out, and we’ll deliver you to him.”
Relief surged through me, loosening my grip on the breastplate. Maybe this was just a misunderstanding. Maybe—
The world went white again as something slammed against the side of my head. The breastplate clattered from my hands, tumbling uselessly into the dirt.
“Stupid girl,” someone muttered. Boots crunched closer. “We’ll let her see the Beta… one day.”
The edges of my vision darkened. My limbs turned heavy, unresponsive. The last thing I felt was the earth beneath my cheek, cool and damp, as strength slipped away and darkness swallowed me whole.