Crawford walked to the saloon's porch to escape the heat of the almost afternoon sun. He walked hurriedly to the sheriff's office.
A star sign was hanging at the upper window and room of a dark wooden house. It resembled a haunted home from various folklores, myths, and legends.
Crawford was once asked by the townspeople to help him restore the building so that it might be more environmentally friendly, but Crawford urged them not to bother and simply responded:
"Justice needs to be feared and cherished, this house's aura is all that matters"
No one comprehended the sentence and just assumed Sheriff Crawford was spooky and dangerous. As he entered the door, he noticed Quiton leaning against the open cell door, and the unknown woman was attempting to get up and out.
Quiton cast his glance upon the woman and moved from his resting place to assist her. Crawford thought as he headed toward the desk, 'Looks like he didn't need me to remind him what is expected of a gentleman.'
Quinton held the feeble woman who had recently been injured and is still recovering. The woman appeared to be a unique blend of fair, scary, and lovely. Her long hair appeared worn and uncombed, but the originality of fair and lovely remained without any preparation.
She was so tired that her eyes were dim, and although Beth's healing magic would have made her lips plump again, she had a hint of dryness on them. She donned a white robe with see-through components that was neither hers nor her size.
'Beth, why give her that?' Crawford wondered as he mentally prepared himself and took a deep breath. He reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a clipboard packed with blank papers attached to a black pen.
Crawford looks at Quinton and gives him a wink as he assists the woman in sitting down. Seeing this, Quinton smiled and tipped his hat as he exited the room through the front door as the doorbell rang.
Crawford cast his glance at the woman, who appeared to be tired and weak, possibly deep in thought. Crawford then relaxed comfortable on the chair, leaning back.
Subsequently, Crawford pulled a penny from the drawer and threw it into the air, launching it towards the woman's forehead with his middle finger before it could fall into the desk.
Before it could hit her skull, she snapped out of her stupor and caught the coin while looking up. She lifted her slowly and murmured, staring at him impassively:
"You have my attention"
Crawford grinned and said, "Obviously, I have your attention since I just threw you money," before chuckling to himself. He saw by looking at her that she was disoriented and perplexed. But when she answered with that, her demeanor remained immobile and unwavering.
"There are no indications of amnesia. How did she get the burns and bruises?" Crawford teased softly, wondering aloud what he could possibly ask the woman.
He groaned and said, "Welcome to the land of the living. Before we begin, I will introduce myself; my name is Crawford, and I will be taking your information. But first, might I just have your name, Mrs.?"
"Green, Ashley Green" was the woman's response.
Crawford wrote Ashley Green's name on the clipboard and continued, "Okay, Ashley Green. Tell me, Miss Green, what happened to you?"
She said "Even though my memories are bit hazy, I still remember that I am engaged"
Crawford raised an eyebrow in surprise and questioned, "Sorry, I apologise; since I didn't see a ring on you, I assumed you weren't married, Ms. Green."
"I think I dropped it, so there's no need to apologize," apologized Ashley.
With a sigh, Crawford turned to the document on the clipboard and inquired:
"Where were you live before you appeared here?"
"York's town"
"Okay, what did you do for a living?"
"My family is aristocratic and has a commanding view of the town where I reside. For the town's taxes and expenses, I work as a bookkeeper.
"And your lordship's current occupation?"
"Pardon me," a bewildered Ashley said.
"Your finance's occupation"
"Oh right, he is a tycoon who works with an oil company"
"And his name?"
"Jordan van drake"
After hearing the name, Crawford put down his pen and gave Ashley a cold, harsh look that said, "Repeat the name."
"Jordan van drake"
"Are you perhaps a Heretic inheritor, Ms. Green?" Crawford said, grinning slightly.
Hearing that term, which can send countless people shuddering in fear of what others will do to them if they find out, Ashley said calmly:
"Yes, I am"
"What is your inheritance called?" Crawford inquired.
"Mistress of deception," Ashley muttered to herself, scowling.
Crawford inquired, "And your abilities?" while jotting down the responses.
"I can only use two abilities right now," Ashley replied.
After adjusting his transparent spherical glasses to fit over his nose, Crawford inquired, "List and explain your abilities"
"My first skill is raging spikes, which let me style and lengthen my hair. The other one is called apparel, and it allows me to wear my hair as clothing," Ashley explained, anticipating a sneer or disgusted expression on the sheriff's face.
However, that never occurred. Crawford merely grinned and remarked,
"That's excellent news as well; Mrs. Cottonmoth is in town." She also inherited the Mistress of Deception; she will teach you how to use your gifts and even assist you in exploring the potential of your heritage."
Crawford wrote on the notepad without asking any further questions; silence was dominating the situation. Ashley was alone with her thoughts, and he tried to recall what she had experienced before she arrived here.
She was fleeing something; the people of York had discovered that she was a witch after discovering her walking the town and cemeteries at night, nude.
One of the signs of the Mistress Inheritance was her inability to manage it.
Due to her noble position, the townspeople were informed that she was going to be executed, but this news was postponed for a week until a Usurper could arrive.
Even her husband had to consent to this arrangement or else he would also be hanged for conspiratorial behavior. The townspeople had to maintain the area under lockdown.
She had been confined in there for days, and just thinking about it gave Ashley shivers. Her long hair immediately extended to hide herself, and Crawford snapped his fingers hard to gain Ashely's attention.
Ashley snapped out of her trance as she heard the sheriff say, "Ms. wake up, we are done for now." Ashely, to be honest, has always had a brave heart. Whenever she faced a challenge, she would remain composed and patient while in York.
She was sure that everyone adored her until she began exhibiting signs of the hereditary gene. She was viewed as an evil that had to be destroyed right away, a monster that could only be cured by death. The laws have never been lenient to Heretic inheritors.
So, when she awoke and found herself here, she was perplexed and could only say, "They know". Her need for freedom sprang from her already damaged state. She so continued to pretend for a little while longer in an attempt to manage the town's predicament.
The Sheriff didn't even try to hide the fact that she knew someone had healed her using a Heretic ability. She deduced that he was aware of this:
"A person providing sanctuary to heretics—what has the world come to?" she pondered.
She cleared her throat a little, and the hair gradually shrank back to its usual length.
"Sorry about that I apologies"
Crawford set down the clipboard, glanced at Ashley, and remarked, somewhat worried:
"When was the last time you night walked?"