"A cozy little house," Klaw grinned maliciously. "Maybe our magical doctor has a friend in this town. Maybe he stopped for a cup of tea."Klaw marched up the path. His heavy, spiked boots trampled over Lila’s beautiful, neat rows of blue flowers. He crushed the petals into the dirt. "Hey! Old woman!" Klaw shouted loudly, kicking the front door wide open.The heavy door smashed against the inside wall of the cottage. Rick’s entire body went rigid. A massive, roaring fire of pure, protective anger ignited in his chest. "No," Rick whispered. The green light at the tip of his staff flared brightly. Inside the cottage, Lila gasped in shock. She walked quickly into the hallway. She held her oil lantern up. Her hands shook as she saw the three massive, terrifying, armed men standing in her doorway. "Who are you?" Lila asked. Her voice was brave, but it trembled with the weakness of old age. "Get out of my house. You are tracking mud on my clean floors."Klaw laughed. He stepped inside.

Lila stood near the stairs. She was shaking. She rubbed her neck where the sword had pressed against her skin. She looked at the three unconscious men on her floor. Then, she looked at Rick. Slowly, Rick reached up with his trembling hands. He grabbed the edge of his dark gray hood. He pulled it back, letting it fall onto his shoulders. He revealed his face completely. He looked like a young man in his twenties. He had messy dark hair, kind eyes, and a face marked by exhaustion and deep sorrow. He had not aged a single day since he left this town fifty years ago. Lila stared at him. Her cloudy, wrinkled eyes drank in his face. She slowly walked toward him. She stepped over the unconscious body of the bounty hunter. She stopped right in front of him. Lila raised her thin, shaking, wrinkled hand. She gently touched his cheek. She felt his warm skin. She traced the line of his jaw. Rick closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. The tears he had been holding back finally broke. He w

Lila slowly pushed herself up from the floor. The old, wrinkled woman shuffled forward. Lila simply hugs him. She wrapped her thin, frail, shaking arms around Rick’s broad shoulders. She pressed her face against his dirty, blood-stained gray coat. She held him tightly, offering the physical comfort that his mother's ghost could not give. Rick completely breaks down. It started as a small, sharp gasp. Then, a terrible, agonizing sob ripped its way out of his throat. Rick fell to his knees on the wooden floor, dragging Lila down with him. He wrapped his strong arms around the old woman. He buried his face in her gray shawl. Years of buried guilt erupt. He did not cry like the legendary Ghost Doctor. He did not cry like a master hero. He cried like a terrified, heartbroken little boy. He wailed. He screamed into the cloth. His entire body shook with violent, massive sobs. He cried for his dead mother. He cried for the fifty years he had spent punishing himself. He cried for all t

The freezing white mist filled the small living room. It was the magic of absolute deletion. It tried to rot the wooden chairs. It tried to turn the warm cottage into a cold, dead grave. The First Auditor stood in the center of the mist. He had no eyes. He had no soul. He was a monster wearing a black suit. "I will take the key, Ghost Doctor," the eyeless man whispered. His voice was flat and terrifying. "And I will erase this town."Rick did not step back. He stood in front of Lila, Luna, and Ash. He held his smooth wooden staff in his left hand. In his right hand, he held the glowing white Bone Key. "You will not touch them," Rick commanded. His voice was low, deep, and perfectly steady. Rick did not summon a massive, wild explosion of magic. He was inside a fragile house. He had to be incredibly careful. He had to act like a master surgeon. Rick raised the Bone Key. He pushed his pure, emerald gr

Rick remembered sitting at a table exactly like this one. He remembered his mother, Dr. Sarah, standing by the stove. He remembered her laughing, her hair falling in her face, as she served him this exact same stew. It was the night before she got sick. It was the last happy memory he had before his world fell apart. Rick raised his right hand. His hand, covered in terrible scars, acid burns, and dried mud, shook violently. He slowly picked up the wooden spoon. His fingers trembled so hard that the spoon tapped against the side of the wooden bowl. He tried to scoop up a piece of potato. But his hand would not obey him. The shaking was too severe. Rick dropped the spoon. It splashed into the hot stew. "I can't," Rick whispered. His voice broke completely. He pushed the chair back. He stood up. He turned away from the table. Luna watched him. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces. She saw the absolute, crus