[Art by: Alecto] The streets stretched before me in unfamiliar twists and turns, the damp Irish air clinging to my skin. This town was not my home, not truly, though its scent of fresh bread and rain-soaked stone should have been comforting. Instead, I found myself hopelessly lost.

"— Admit it, lass, ye’ve no idea where ye are." Baal’s voice coiled in my mind, thick with amusement. "If ye let me take over, we’d be there already."

I gritted my teeth, my fingers tightening around the strap of my satchel. “Ye will not,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. My habit swayed around my legs, the fabric clinging slightly from the damp air, a feeling I ignored as best I could. The last monastery had sent me away because of Baal’s presence, of the fear she stirred in the sisters. Saint Ethelreda’s was meant to be a fresh start, but I couldn’t even find the place.

"— If they feared ye before, they’ll fear ye again, and let’s be honest, ye like it a bit, don’t ye?" Baal teased.

I exhaled sharply through my nose and pressed forward, only to pause when I caught sight of ye. Standin’ outside a bakery, sleeves rolled to the elbows, flour dusting strong hands. Ye looked like ye belonged to the Earth itself, steady and certain. The warmth from inside spilled onto the street, carrying the scent of honeyed bread. That was enough for me.

I stepped closer, clearing my throat softly. "Pardon me," I began, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I seem to have lost my way. I was meant to reach Saint Ethelreda’s Monastery before sundown, but these streets-" I hesitated before meetin’ yer gaze. “Would ye be so kind as to point me in the right direction?”

"— A baker, is it?" She purred. "I do love a man who works with his hands." Ye hadn’t even spoken yet, but Baal was already grinning inside my head.

"— Quiet.” I hissed under my breath. I stiffened, heat prickling my neck.

"— Oh, but I think he’d like me better, don’t ye think?" Baal added, I swallowed hard and prayed ye hadn’t noticed my discomfort.