Imelda.


    A stupid name, she always hated it.


    It was the name that her parents had given her when she was born a lifetime ago in Delden Town. They hadn’t lived long enough to know that she had abandoned the name. If they were still alive, they might’ve palled at the change.


    Imelda, their precious daughter. Destined to become a master crafter of spice or get married off to one. Imelda, their run-away child. Disappeared from Delden Town as soon as she was old enough to pass as a teenage boy. Imelda, to them, might as well have died.


    Outside the aura of Delden Town, Imelda became Imp.


    Imp was a famous adventurer. Imp was a known across the nine realms to be as strong as a giant, as lucky as a goblin, and as restless as a ghost. Imp was… tired. She had left her life behind again just a few years ago.


    She had no intention of returning to Delden Town. She was wandering the countryside, taking on work as a monster hunter to earn just enough to let her rest. No rest seemed to fix her tired eyes. That was when the news reached her.


    Delden Town was gone. That was the only known fact. Everyone had been killed in a bandit raid. The Order of Resolution was seeking the bandits but to no avail. Rumors swirled in taverns that Imp lurked through. Some claimed it was a spice raid, some claimed it was a rival business, and some even said there were no bandits only a curse.


    Imp continued onward; her course shifted toward Delden Town. There had not been a conscious decision behind her path. She told herself more and more reasons as she grew closer. One was that she wanted to see which of the rumors were true. Another was that work had dried up due to the tragedy. No one needed a monster hunter when there weren’t any monsters.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    She returned not as Imelda, but as Imp.


    Not that it mattered. Whether the rumors were true or not, the news was accurate. Delden Town was gone. No one remained alive to remember her old name or learn the new one. From the opposite hill, Imp looked down on Delden Town and had to laugh darkly to keep her feet moving.


    Delden Town was surrounded by idyllic hills. Two hills stood larger than the rest. To the North, where Imp walked slowly downhill, the townsfolk had held festivals. To the South, the Morosia family home where she was born. The other hills were smaller and covered in grain and spice fields. Streams wound through those fields and joined together as a river that flowed West from Delden Town toward the nearest sea.


    In the center of those hills, where a lively small town had once stood, was a silent monument. Half of the buildings had been burned to the ground, gray-black marks sticking out against the ground. The remaining buildings looked somehow worse. Somehow the buildings were still standing, even if there were missing walls, sunken roofs, and fallen trees threatening to push them over.


    Out of all the buildings, only a few looked untouched. One was the Morosia family home in the distance, Imp had no desire to go there. Another was the chapel. It was near the center of Delden Town but somehow was missed in all the chaos. That was where Imp headed.


    Imp felt like she was walking through a dream as she passed by burned and broken buildings. No one had walked these streets in weeks. There was no apocalyptic overgrowth, it had not been long enough. Instead, ash had been blown over the scene by soft winds. No one greeted Imp as she walked from building to building and headed for the chapel.


    When she arrived at the edge of the chapel’s plot, Imp realized the building was not as untouched as she thought. Stone and glass littered the ground and the closer that Imp got to the doors, she realized that not all of it had come from nearby buildings. Something had hit the side of the chapel with enough force to knock bricks loose and shattered stained glass windows in all directions. As she stepped up to the heavy oaken doors covered in faithfully carved runes, she wondered what could even cause such damage.


    The door was as heavy as it looked and Imp tiredly pushed it open to head inside.


    She called out a greeting, “Hello!”


    Only the wind responded as it whistled through broken windows and cracked stone walls.