on the flag over their heads, but the woman — Mercy — blesses their ignorance.
“And from whence do you hail, Mercy?” Nils asks with unmasked disdain.
“That’s none of our business lad, and you know it,” says the elder before turning a paternal smile upon Mercy. “The Pale City turns none away.”
“Even when it should,” Nils adds in an audible mutter. His companion ignores him, and Mercy follows that lead.
A place of succor and salvation, says the voice that is not Mercy’s own. Go forth, child of mercy. Your destiny lies within.
Mercy’s heart clenches. Destiny? She doesn’t want
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Just Another Struggling Writer 
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