#prepatch

Augustine paused. “Like I’m being the irrational one…” he said after a moment, his voice a degree softer, “And you’re the one with all the answers.” His brow dipped. “Like I’m some kind of fool for having feelings.” 

“Then you quit acting like a fool,” Max quipped. 

“I’m not! I’m just being human!” The teen bucked up and raised a hand to his sister. “Why are you so heartless?!” 

Max caught his slap by the wrist. She grabbed his shirt collar and shoved him back into the counter. Vials rattling in their racks chimed in alarm. Her grip on his wrist was relentless, only growing tighter the more he pulled. “Heartless?” she breathed, leaning in close, “How is being rational heartless?” 

Augustine didn’t say a word. He only averted his gaze as he tried to break free. So Max continued for him. 

“Tell me. What exactly is it that you’d want to do? You want to run into the fray and fight? Do so with the shield you don’t brandish? Or how about the sword you don’t wield? Maybe you can use that sling I see you practice with. I’m sure empty oil bottles are great surrogates for ghouls.” She yanked him closer, forcing his gaze up to meet her own. “What is a child going to do that the Argent Crusade can’t?!” 

“I’m not a child!” he spat. 

“And yet,” Max hissed, “You aren’t a man. You can’t even free your hand from my grasp. What makes you think you can fight the Scourge?” 

He didn’t reply. 

“Answer me, Augustine!” 

“I don’t know!” 

“You must have an answer if you’re to berate me for-”

“I just want to be useful!” he cried. 

A chill ran down Max’s spine. Her brother brought up his gaze, revealing the mist of tears threading his eyes. He swallowed hard before choking out, “Because I’m scared… Okay?” 

The anger which boiled her blood instantly cooled. Guilt seeped into her gut at the fear glistening his eyes. She uncurled her fingers and stepped back, watching as he rubbed the imprint left on his wrist. It was her turn to drop her gaze. 

“I’m scared that people are going to die...” he whispered through a sob, “A-and I’ll have done nothing about it… Because I was useless.” 

The stern wall she placed finally crumbled. She let herself reach out and gather her brother in her arms, warmth seeping into her voice. “No… No, no. Auggie you aren’t… You aren’t useless.” An ounce of relief settled in her chest as he stepped in her embrace. He quivered in her arms with each passing sob. She held him close, uttering not a word as she stroked the back of his head, and waited for him to settle. 

Max’s hands slid to his forearms, pulling him back so she could look at him. The realization that she had to reach up to cup his cheeks was bittersweet. She coaxed his head down and touched her forehead to his. “Our work,” she began, “Is important. You must understand that. We are giving people who cannot fight, people like us, a chance to survive. Not just with our Alchemy Fire...With all of our work. People will need medicine, salves, and poultices. They will need our work... And we need to be ready.” 

She wiped a tear away with the pad of her thumb. “I know you’re scared…” She stole a glance  down at the rusted padlock and then to a basket of abandoned Peacebloom. She didn’t have the courage to touch either of them since the outbreak.  Not when it could be the only remnants.  “I’m scared too…” 

“But,” she continued, “Not everyone who is courageous wields swords. We must be brave. Brave enough to put our emotions aside. There will be time to worry, to mourn, and to cry later.” Max took a breath, chastising herself for the waiver that seeped into her voice. “But right now, we cannot afford to be distracted. We need to keep focused and have faith that things beyond our control will sort themselves out.” 

“As it is written…” Auggie murmured. 

“Yes,” Max allowed a soft smile to touch her lips, “As it is written.” 

She smoothed back his hair and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Now,” she breathed, “Go and dry your eyes. Rest if you need to. Then come back and pick up where you left off.” 

Augustine pushed up his glasses and dragged his sleeve across his eyes. “I’m fine” -his nose wrinkled- “I can keep going.” 

Max looked him over. He looked more tired than ever before and she worried he might be pushing himself too far. She kept these ruminations to herself, though, upon noting the determination that furrowed his brow. She’d let him at least have this.

“Honest,” he insisted, wiggling out of her arms, “I-I want to keep working.” He turned without waiting for a response, picking up his work as if he’d never paused to begin at all. 

She watched his back. Her heart swelled with a sweet melancholy as she took up the needle and resumed sewing the alchemy circle into the gloves’ backs. With each stitch, she reeled a revelation closer. By the time she tied the string off, marking one glove complete, their candle had been burned to its wick. In its shadows was where her discovery laid. 

Illuminated by the faint glow of his simmering concoction, Augustine laid with his head on the desk. Max hovered a hand above his lips and felt his warm, steady breath against her knuckles. He was asleep. At first she breathed a laugh as she carefully slid his glasses off. But then her smile faltered. She gazed down at her brother, noting the dark circles under his eyes and tension in his shoulders. It was like looking at an echo of her old self. 

Max shook her head and sat his glasses aside. She didn’t want this kind of life for Augustine. One plagued with strife and long nights. All she wanted was for him to cherish these last few innocent years. Maybe that was asking for too much... 

She stole a glance at the rusted padlock, feeling the black box’s gaze hiding within the drawer. Certain truths she had hidden well from him. She’d done a good job of hiding plenty from Augustine, shielding him from the cold world with her secrets. But not all truths, she realized as she lay her head next to her brother, could she protect him from. Some he’d have to face on his own. 

That was what scared Maxinora the most. 

Mel reclined on her sofa, nestled under a blanket and reading her latest novel by candlelight. It was a pulpy tale, but it had only cost her a handful of copper, and she loved the way each fresh detail sent goosebumps up her arms. She could imagine herself in the story, running through the woods to find shelter in the safety of her cottage as unknown monsters gave pursuit. She loved the thrill of her beating heart as she turned page after page.

It was the perfect way to end a day filled with hard labor. She had finally managed to mark off some of the more difficult tasks on her to-do list; the well had been cleared of those horrible thorny bushes, she’d made good progress chopping up the dead and fallen branches strewn across the clearing, even found the time to oil all the hinges on the cottage’s ancient doors. Well, almost all of them. She’d run out before getting to the porch, but that one could wait for her next trip into Stormwind for supplies.

But that thought was for another day. She lay back on the sofa and buried her nose in the book, finding herself lost in the story until she finally dozed off. A shrill scream wrenched her out of sleep. She couldn’t tell if the sound had issued from her throat, or echoed from some forgotten dream. Or did that come from outside? The candles had guttered out in their stands by now, but light from a waning moon, silver and gleaming, trickled in through the windows. Mel pushed off her blanket and kneeled over the sofa to get a glimpse of the yard outside.

Rotting horrors staggered through the woods in an unholy procession. The shadowed boughs obscured the creatures into vague lumbering shapes deeper in the woods. But the light cast by the moon was enough to illuminate the walking corpses that shambled through her yard. Some were no more than bones held together by the will of dark magic. Others had the last vestiges of flesh hanging off their gaunt forms. And some... some were fresh. She could too easily imagine the faces of her friends, or the townsfolk from Goldshire appearing from the darkness. 

Mel fell back, covering her mouth to smother the scream she could feel building up in her lungs. I'm dreaming still, I'm only dreaming, too many scary stories before bed, just a dream... But she didn't believe that. She peeked back up to steal a second glance, and was met with the same sight. Horrible creatures shambled by, some alone, some in tight packs. They marched with singular, mindless purpose. 

One burdensome thought churned through her mind.