The sun rose over Oakhaven like a bruised fruit.
Vilky sat by the window in Elara's body. She watched the light catch the dust motes dancing in the stagnant air of the cottage.
She had spent the night dissecting Thorne's memories.
She knew he was a man of predictable, violent patterns. The village ignored the sounds of his rage because it was easier than intervening.
That silence was her greatest ally.
The tax collector, a man named Cedric, would arrive by noon.
According to Thorne's recollections, Cedric was a bloated parasite who enjoyed the authority his ledger provided.
He was the gateway to the regional capital. He was the first rung on a very tall ladder.
Vilky stood up. Her ribs still ached from Thorne's boots.
She didn't heal the bruises. She needed them.
She walked to the washbasin and looked at her reflection. Elara was beautiful in a fragile, exhausted way.
The kind of beauty that invited predators.
Vilky pulled her hair loose. She made sure the purple mark on her jaw was clearly visible.
Ventum Charge: 43/100.
The cost of shifting back and forth was manageable, but she needed a more stable source of energy.
The biological friction requirement was noted in the back of her mind. It was a tactical necessity, nothing more.
She heard the sound of hooves on the dry earth outside.
Two horses. One carriage.
Vilky moved to the door. She didn't rush. She moved with the hesitant, dragging gait of a woman who expected a blow.
Outside, the village square was a patch of dirt surrounded by sagging timber hovels.
Cedric stepped out of the carriage. He wore a doublet of stained velvet. He looked like a hog dressed in silk.
Two guards stood behind him. They wore leather boiled in oil and carried rusted halberds.
They weren't soldiers. They were thugs with a paycheck.
"Thorne!" Cedric bellowed. He held a scroll in one hand and a cane in the other.
"I know you're in there, you drunkard. The Crown doesn't wait for your hangover to clear."
Vilky opened the door. She let it creak.
She stood on the threshold, trembling. She let her eyes go wide and watery.
"He... he isn't here, My Lord," she said. Her voice was a thin, broken reed.
Cedric's eyes traveled over her. They lingered on the bruise on her jaw, then moved down to the swell of her chest.
He smiled. It was an oily, confident expression.
"Not here? And where would a man like Thorne go on tax day?"
"He went to the woods," Vilky lied. "He said he found something. A... a vein of iron. He was frantic."
She stepped forward, then winced, clutching her side.
"He was angry when he left. He took the last of our coin."
Cedric stepped closer. The smell of cheap perfume and sweat preceded him.
"Took the coin, did he? That puts you in a difficult position, Elara."
He reached out with his cane and lifted her chin. He saw the marks of "Thorne's" violence.
"The King's silver must be paid. One way or another."
Vilky looked at the guards. They were bored. They were looking at the village well, ignoring their master's appetites.
"Please," Vilky whispered. "I have nothing left. Unless... I have some old jewelry. From my mother. It's inside."
Cedric looked back at his guards. "Stay with the carriage. I'll see what this woman has to offer as collateral."
The guards chuckled. One of them spat in the dirt.
"Take your time, Master Cedric. The sun is high."
Cedric pushed past Vilky into the dimness of the cottage.
He didn't notice that as soon as the door closed, the woman's trembling stopped.
He didn't notice the way her eyes became as hard as flint.
"Where is this jewelry?" Cedric asked. He leaned his cane against the table and began to unbutton his doublet.
"In the bedroom," Vilky said. Her voice was no longer thin. It was flat.
Cedric turned, his brow furrowing. "What was that?"
Vilky was already moving.
She used the photographic memory of the room's layout. She knew exactly where the uneven floorboard was.
She stepped over it with the grace of a dancer.
Cedric reached for her arm. "Don't get cheeky with me, girl."
Vilky didn't pull away. She lunged forward.
She didn't use a knife. She used her mouth.
She slammed her lips against his in a mock kiss of desperation.
Cedric's first instinct was triumph. He thought she was bartering the only thing she had.
Then the vacuum started.
Ventum Charge: 40... 38... 35.
The violet flare erupted in the small room.
Cedric's eyes bulged. His hands clawed at Vilky's shoulders, but she held him with a strength that shouldn't have been possible for Elara.
She felt his life force being sucked into the Ventum Core.
It was different from Thorne. Thorne was all rage and bitterness.
Cedric was greed. He was the memory of counting coins. He was the knowledge of the capital's bureaucracy.
He was the map of the trade routes.
Vilky drank it all.
She saw the names of the local lords. She saw the secret ledger hidden in the carriage.
She saw the face of Cedric's wife, a cold woman he hated.
Cedric's body began to shrivel. His velvet doublet became too large for his frame.
His eyes turned to grey glass.
The ash rose from his skin, swirling in the air before being absorbed into Vilky's pores.
Within seconds, the tax collector was gone.
Ventum Charge: 75/100.
New Identity Acquired: Cedric the Tax Collector.
Vilky stood in the center of the room. She felt the weight of his memories settling into her mind like books on a shelf.
She heard the guards laughing outside.
"Master Cedric's getting his money's worth today," one of them shouted.
Vilky didn't waste time. She focused on the image of Cedric.
The transformation was swifter this time. She was becoming more efficient.
The extra fat blossomed around her waist. Her hair receded. Her skin took on the sallow, pampered hue of a man who never worked a day in the sun.
She picked up the cane. She adjusted the velvet doublet.
She practiced the voice.
"Shut your mouths out there! I'm nearly finished."
It was perfect. The same arrogant whine.
She looked at Elara's bed. She needed a reason for the woman to be gone.
She took a heavy iron poker from the hearth. She smashed the small wooden jewelry box on the table.
She scattered a few cheap copper rings on the floor.
She opened the back window.
Then, she walked to the door and opened it.
The guards looked up. They saw their master, looking slightly disheveled but satisfied.
"Where's the girl?" one guard asked, peering past her.
Vilky, as Cedric, spat on the ground.
"The bitch tried to stab me while I was looking at her trinkets. Jumped out the back window and ran for the woods."
He pointed toward the dense treeline behind the cottage.
"Let her go. She's got nothing left anyway. We have the taxes to collect from the rest of these peasants."
The guards looked at each other and shrugged. A runaway wife was nothing new.
"Whatever you say, Master Cedric. To the next village?"
"No," Vilky said. She climbed into the carriage. "The sun is setting soon. We head back to the regional hub. I have a report to write."
She sat on the plush bench of the carriage.
She reached under the seat and found the hidden compartment Cedric's memories had revealed.
She pulled out the real ledger.
Her photographic memory scanned the pages. Names. Figures. Delinquent accounts.
She saw the name of a local Baron. He was skimming from the Crown.
Cedric had been using that information for blackmail.
Vilky leaned back. A cold smile touched Cedric's face.
She had the money. She had the authority. And she had a secret that could destroy a noble.
The carriage began to move.
She looked out the window at the receding hovels of Oakhaven.
She felt no pity for the people she left behind.
She felt only the cold, steady hum of the Ventum Core.
She needed to find a way to recharge the Core more effectively.
The biological friction requirement was still a bottleneck.
Cedric's memories provided a solution. The regional capital had "houses of silk" where such things were transactional.
It would be her first stop.
She closed the ledger.
She was no longer a victim. She was the ghost in the machine of Exilic.
And she was coming for the throne.