A Promise of Fire
Chapter 6
Lieutenant Vechelot and Sergeant Astier glared at Captain Grisdel with a fiery intensity. Sitting on the lieutenant’s desk was an official report written by the captain himself expressing his men’s unfair treatment, as well as his concerns that their warnings of danger to the city were being dismissed.
“You can’t really believe it’s fae, captain,” asked the lieutenant.
“I do,” he said.
“You actually believe what these men told you?”
Grisdel nodded. “I’ve no reason to believe they would lie about something like this. Believe me, I find it hard to believe myself, but Emecar and Rukifelth are—”
“Troublemakers,” shouted Astier. He stomped his foot, but a swift gesture from the lieutenant told him to calm down. He cleared his throat and said, “Captain Grisdel, the watch doesn’t take kindly to the way your men treated us the past night. From the moment they arrived, they were behaving disrespectfully to my men. I’ve no reason to believe what they say.”
“That contradicts how I understand my own men, sergeant. Rukifelth, yes, has a bit of a rebellious attitude, but not with Emecar around. Should those two lash out, it is only because someone treated them disrespectfully first.” Grisdel stepped forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Astier and said, “But what of your men, sergeant? I’m to understand they were posted with Officers Tabard and Lafayette. What did they say?”
Astier scoffed and tried to diverge the topic. “They don’t know what they saw. For all I know, your men could’ve—”
“That’s enough, sergeant,” said Vechelot. “Tell the captain what your men said in their reports.”
Astier’s eyes darted between Captain Grisdel and the lieutenant. He clearly couldn’t fathom why the lieutenant would take Grisdel’s side, but in truth she wasn’t; Vechelot was trying to wrap this up as quickly as possible, so she could go and formulate a case she could report to Commander Dior, head of the Lionbrand City-Watch
Astier raised his nose. “They believe it to be fae, yes,” he said quickly, “but they also said those mercenaries were adepts, which is preposterous! They’re much too young, and humans no less. My men clearly weren’t in the right state of mind and were most likely seeing shadows of things that weren’t really there.”
“Emecar and Rukifelth are adepts, sergeant,” said Captain Grisdel. “All of my official mercenaries are. It is part of an initiative I’ve been taking to strengthen the troupe to its former glory. Of my twelve official mercenaries, all of them can use at least one color of Aether, and four of them can use at least two.”
Astier’s eyes widened. “That’s preposterous! Your mercenaries are predominantly human, are they not? To let that kind of rabble hold power like that where even the watch isn’t allowed is absurd!”
“I suppose you would think that, wouldn’t you, sergeant? But that’s the law dictated by the High Lords; you wouldn’t go against the High Lords, would you?” Astier huffed and turned away, and Grisdel felt a small twinge of pride; he’d seen many things in his days that brought him joy, but nothing more so than seeing a brown-nosed officer get put in their place. He continued, “Emecar and Rukifelth are both gifted in the color of transmutation, Emecar can use the color of abjuration, and Rukifelth the color of evocation.”
Vechelot didn’t seem impressed. She looked down at her reports and said, “Where are these men of your now, captain?”
“Following the incident, I put them on temporary suspension.”
“Under suspension you say?” She smiled wickedly, and Grisdel narrowed his gaze. “If that’s the case, that would mean your men are no longer officially sanctioned by the troupe, and any usage of Aether would be a criminal act. So, I ask again, captain: Where are your men? Or will I need to send a patrol to find them make sure they don’t cause any trouble?”
Grisdel crossed his arms and huffed. “Is that what this is all about? Well, if you must know: my guildmarm Diantha notified me just this morning that they would be out of the city for a couple of days. The Galdic Temple requested their aid in escorting a maiden to a nearby farm.
“What farm?”
“I don’t know,” Grisdel lied. “They didn’t say.”
Lieutenant Vechelot rapped her fingers on her desk in a swift and articulate rhythm, scowling, before she stood from her desk and stood eye-to-eye with the captain. “At your earliest convenience, captain, I would like a word with these men of yours,” she said. She glared back at Astier, who was sweating nervously, and said, “As for you sergeant: I want you to notify Officers Tabard and Lafayette to report to me immediately. I want to speak with them personally. You are dismissed.”
The sergeant bowed quickly and left the office.
Grisdel smiled and bowed. “I appreciate your fairness, Lieutenant Vechelot.”
“Don’t get smug with me, Grisdel.” Her gaze met his, and her fiery eyes were filled with contempt and anger. “I can’t believe you; to demote yourself to working with paltry sellswords. You had potential, and now you’ve thrown it all away.” She sat back down, looking at her reports to not meet his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, all of this fae nonsense is hearsay. Until I see anything for myself, I refuse to believe there’s any fae near the city.”
“Understandable,” said Grisdel. “Am I excused?”
Vechelot shot him a glare that could melt ice, and he left. On his way out of the garrison, more eyes fell on the captain: the man who left everything behind to be a mercenary, the man who fell from grace to work alongside mere inférals; he must’ve committed a terrible atrocity, the rumors had said, but it was simpler than that. He’d simply become disillusioned with it all: their holier-than-thou attitudes, their sense of self-importance, and the pardoning of their sins they’d made against the greater world. For what they’d done, Grisdel would be happy if Singard was wiped off the face of the world.
Once outside, Grisdel made his way to a nearby bench to sit and rest. He ran his fingers along his thin black moustache, trying to gather his thoughts:
Emecar and Rukifelth aren’t liars, but it couldn’t have been fae. Surely not, but if not fae, then what did they see? What was it that…
A heavy raindrop fell onto his hand, and then another, and before he knew it, Grisdel was amidst a downpour. He looked up at the gray skies and felt the cool rain dampen his coat and clothes. “What a terrible day for rain,” he muttered.
Emecar, Rukifelth, and Emli watched as on the farmhouse veranda, they could see the Gerhard family flocking to Juliet; her mother scooped the little girl into her arms and covered her face with kisses, her aunt and grandmother wrapped her arms around her, crying tears of joy, and her cousins swarmed around her asking her where she’d ran off to and if she’d seen any monsters. Two younger men–Cedric, Juliet’s father, and Louis, her uncle–approached the group.
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing my daughter home,” said Cedric. “We’d been so worried; we sent two servants to the city last night when we realized she’d gone missing. I feared the worst.”
“Well, everything is alright now,” said Emecar.
“For the time being,” added Rukifelth. Emecar shot him a glare, but the two men didn’t seem to notice.
“Masters Gerhard,” said Emli, “I don’t mean to intrude upon this meeting, but we need to discuss why young Juliet came to the city on her own. She came looking for help; said her grandfather could hear monsters outside his window.”
Cedric groaned and turned to Louis. “We should’ve known father was behind this.”
“That old man has been causing us nothing but trouble,” said the younger brother. He turned to Emli and said, “We’re terribly sorry, but our father has been going on and on about fae these past few nights, but he’s just an old man scared out of his wits.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” said Rukifelth, “but the old man may be right.”
The two young farmers fell silent, and it seemed that it was only then that they realized Emecar and Rukifelth were so fitted with weapons. Their eyes sunk, and Cedric asked, “What do you mean? Who are you?”
“It would be easier to explain to everyone inside,” said Emecar. Cedric and Louis shared another nervous glance with one another before escorting the three to the house. Juliet was quick to introduce her family to Emli, Emecar, and Rukifelth before showing them all the coin flourish Rukifelth had taught her.
“Are you two crownsguard,” said Duncan, one of her young cousins.
An older cousin, Remiel, smacked him and said, “Of course they ain’t; they’re not elves!”
“You don’t need to be an elf to be a crownsguard,” said Duncan.
“Unfortunately,” said Rukifelth, “you do.”
“Then what are you?”
“They’re monster hunters,” said Juliet proudly. “They kill goblins, and trolls, and wolgorlings!”
Juliet’s mother looked at them nervously and said, “What’s a couple of ‘monster hunters’ doing here?”
“And with a maiden no less,” asked her grandmother.
Cedric motioned for all the adults to head inside while the children took Juliet back to their room to play. Once inside and free of children, the family began to introduce themselves: there was Sabine, Cedric and Louis’ mother; Marie and Delphine, their wives; and Bernard, the master servant. There was Cedric and Marie’s other children Solenne and Remiel, and Louis and Delphine’s only son Duncan. Lastly, there was Victor, the elderly patriarch of the family who’d been condemned to his room.
Emecar thought himself a man who could easily put names to faces, but his head started to spin trying to remember them all.
The interior of the farmhouse was just as luxurious as its exterior: bookshelves lined with dozens of books, an elegantly crafted longcase clock, vibrant and colorful carpets, beautifully painted portraits, and ornamental flowerpots containing moonlilies and maiden’s kiss that sat along the windowsills, and this was in just the den alone; it was but one of many rooms within the manor house.
Sabine lead them all to the kitchen where one of her maidservants was preparing luncheon for the family, after she was excused, it was Emli who explained their ordeal. She introduced herself properly, as well as Emecar and Rukifelth, introducing them as members of the city’s mercenary troupe and did her best to explain their encounter with the fae from a few nights back. She also told them about what Juliet had said about the fae that sing outside their windows.
The family’s expression grew grim as Sabine said, “You aren’t serious, are you, Sister?”
“I wish I wasn’t, madame, but frightfully, I must say there is a chance that your farm could be in danger.”
“B-But why,” said Marie. “Why would fae come after us?” The woman looked as if she would’ve collapsed if not for Cedric holding her.
“We don’t know why,” said Emecar, “but for whatever reason, that’s why we’re here: to keep an eye on the place and make sure it stays safe.”
“Just the three of you,” asked Louis nervously. His voice didn’t sound comfortable.
“For the farm, yes,” said Emecar, his voice not as strong as he would’ve liked. He looked to Rukifelth hoping he could pick up the rest of the lie.
His brother took a moment before he said, “By ordinance of the Maiden Superior, the city-watch is currently preparing a counterattack against the fae should they attack. At least, that’s what our captain told us. In the meantime, the troupe is to dispatch some of its mercenaries to act as bodyguards around the neighboring settlements, but until we can report back with an official sighting, we’re all you get.”
Louis nodded, but still didn’t seem satisfied. Delphine, his wife, stepped forward, her hands held tight to her pregnant belly and said, “Y-You don’t suppose it’s because of me, do you? I-I’ve heard that fae sometimes seek out newborns. D-Do you think that’s true?”
“Don’t be silly, my dear. That’s wytch work,” said the elderly Sabine.
Emecar looked back nervously to the others and said, “Well, I suppose it is a possibility. They do call it Wytchsong after all, and if Master Gerhard really has been hearing singing, there’s a chance—”
“No,” shouted Cedric. “You’re just trying to scare us! Well, it won’t work! This joke ain’t funny.”
Emli stepped forward, her hands gently crossed over her chest and said, “Please don’t be upset with Emecar, monsieur. He isn’t trying to scare you, we just want you tall to be safe.”
Sabine’s breathing grew heavier. As she looked across the scared faces of her family, she said, “What are we to do? I’m sorry gentlemen, but I can’t believe that just the two of you and this sister’s prayers are enough to keep us safe.”
Emecar’s stomach sank; he knew she was right. Should there actually be a wytch, they’d face no chance, but he had to at least try.
Protect the innocent; heal the hurt; smite the wicked.
“I promise that we’ll keep you safe,” he said. “As long as blood pumps in my veins, I’ll fight any fae or wytch that dare tread on this land.” His words didn’t inspire as much confidence as he would’ve hoped, but the family did seem more at ease.
Sabine instructed Bernard, the master servant, to alert the others to turn in early should the fog come rolling in. The mothers had gone off to look after their children, and their husbands resumed their work on the farm. Once alone, Sabine rested her hands on the kitchen countertop, and Emecar saw her holding back frantic tears.
He had to protect them; all of them.
Emli stepped forward and said, “Madame, could we please speak with Master Gerhard?”
Against her better judgment, Sabine nodded. She lead the three through the house and up the stairs to the master bedchamber where Victor was lying in bed. He stared out the window, seemingly unaware that anyone had stepped into his room. He mumbled something under his breath that Emecar couldn’t quite make out.
“Darling,” said Sabine, “we’ve guests. They’d like to speak with you.”
Victor turned his head slowly, and Emecar was surprised to see just how ghastly the man was. He could see the remnants of a man—one strong and confident—reduced to something so ghastly. His skin was thin, and his gaze distant, but as he laid eyes upon Emli–a Galdic Maiden–he perked to life.
“D-Did she find you? A-Are you going to help us?”
Emli curtseyed politely and said, “We are going to do our best, Master Gerhard.”
“Then, that means…” His eyes glanced over to Sabine who scowled at him, most certainly for telling their youngest granddaughter to sneak out and head to the city by her lonesome. However, the elderly man ignored it and said, “She did it! Juliet, my girl! Ah-ha! I knew she had grit! I tell you—”
“Stop it, you oaf,” shouted Sabine. “How could you send our granddaughter to the city all by herself? What if she’d gotten lost, or Dragonsforbid killed? These kind people found her, but what if someone less kind? What if someone wanted to hurt her, or tried to ransom her back to us? What then?”
“But that didn’t happen, right? She’s back home safe?” Sabine gritted her teeth, wanting to scold her husband, but instead nodded silently. “Then that means my prayers were answered! Azuhiel and Velhien watched over her and brought you all here!”
“Yes, and we’re aware of why you sent her for help, Master Gerhard,” said Emli.
Thunder boomed in the distance, and looking through the bedchamber window, Emecar could see that the skies had grown even grayer, and that very soon Rain would be upon them.
Victor’s eyes sunk back into his head, as if the life had been drained from them. “Can you hear it,” he said. “The song; that terrible song haunts my soul. Please, you must believe me. I know I sound mad–and I may be–but it grows louder as the fog grows nearer. Y-You hear that? Tonight! They come tonight! P-Please, that’s why I had to send Juliet! Everyone else thinks I’ve gone mad–a-and maybe I have–but the song, Juliet can hear the songs too! She can…” Sabine tried to calm him down as the thunder continued to rumble; small droplets of rain fell onto the window.
Emecar could feel the man’s fear so viscerally. These were not the ramblings of some senile old man, but a man who truly believed what he was saying. Though frantic, Emecar felt he could believe him too. He thought about the fae attack in the slums, and how Augustin believed just as fervently that the fae were going to attack. Perhaps if he hadn’t seen it once before, he wouldn’t believe it, but Emecar knew it to be true: the fae were going to attack.
But why? Why would the fae go through so much for just this old man and little girl? Was there something else Victor was hiding?
Rukifelth pulled Emecar and Emli aside and said, “No one else can hear this song apart from the old man and Juliet. What do you suppose that could mean?”
“I-I don’t know,” whispered Emli, but the small hesitance in her voice told Emecar that she really did; Emecar knew it too: those who could hear a wytch’s song were her prey. They’d be compelled to follow the song and walk into the fog, right into Helhaym without even realizing what they’d done. Turning back to Master Gerhard, they watched as Sabine struggled to calm him down.
“We should let Master Gerhard get some rest. I don’t want to stress him more than he already is,” said Sabine.
“Please,” shouted Victor, “Please, no matter what: don’t let them in! They want in, but don’t let them! They’ll take her; they’ll take me! They’ll take everyone!”
Emli stepped forward and knelt beside the old man. As she took his hand, she said, “I promise, Master Gerhard. We will keep your family safe.”
The old man’s ranting began to calm as he looked into Emli’s eyes. He panted a silent thank you, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
Emecar smiled.
That’s my girl.
Sabine closed the door behind them as they all stepped into the hallway. “He said they’d come tonight. Do you think that’s true?”
Emecar nodded. “I’m afraid it’d be better for us to play safe and assume the worst. Fear not, this farm is under our protection.”
Sabine gave a weak sigh of relief, and Emecar knew she’d rather more than two common sellswords to protect her family, but she knew it was better than nothing. She offered Emli a spare bedroom in the house and told Emecar and Rukifelth to speak with Bernard about finding some room for them in one of the servants’ cabins.
In the meantime, Emecar and Rukifelth thought it best to scout the area and get an idea for where they’d be working. Before they left, Emli grabbed Emecar’s hand and quietly said, “Be careful, won’t you?”
Kissing her hand, Emecar gestured to her amethyst bracelet on his wrist. He could feel the Aether pulse within it and said, “Everything will be alright, mademoiselle. I promise.”
Within the Lady’s Rose, the lady Asta and her trio of musicians–the Singers of Starlight–prepared their outfits, tuned their instruments, and readied themselves for another night of performing for the people of Lionbrand. Word was reaching far throughout the city of their shows, and night after night their crowds had been growing bigger and bigger. Soon, they’d need a larger venue.
This, of course, was due to the ever-tiring work of the singers themselves. It was important to spread gossip and rumors about the mysterious Elven woman with a voice unlike anything the world had ever heard; something to rival that of the greatest prima donnas of Singard.
Some of the rumors spread about her was that she was a descendant of Lady Driel, the Galdic Matron of Song; others said she was an aspiring diva from Zaldean, and many even believed she was the incarnation of a tempting trickster fae.
That last, did not sit well with Asta, especially among the rising rumors that fae were encroaching upon the city. Denying it would of course do very little to squelch the rumors, so instead, Asta was determined to have her companions spread other mysteries about her to mask the notion that she was a fae. The last thing she needed was the crownsguard or an inquisitor investigating her.
How stupid. Fae? Coming to the city? Ridiculous!
“You’re just bluffing,” said Michel, the guitarist. He tuned his guitar: pluck, pluck, plucking the strings until they sang in harmonious unison with one another.
“I tells ya what I hear, jack,” said Segrick, their massive concertinist. “Thems there watchmen seemed awful spooked about the fog. They say its-a creepin’ closer every day now, and they said with the rain this night, that it could be seriously dangerous.”
Sandra, the violinist, ran rosin along her bowstring and said, “Hogwash is what it is. You mean to tell me that you just happened to eavesdrop on a couple watchmen talkin’ about this?”
“Likes I be sayin’, thems weren’t even awares I was there,” said Segrick.
Michel laughed. “There’s no way! You fit in around these parts like a stone in a sandpit! Of course they saw you; they’re just tryin’ to mess with you.”
“And I’m tellin’ you’s: they didn’t.” Segrick leaned back in his chair and looked at himself in the room’s mirror. He adjusted his collar and said, “They were all caught up in one another’s stories: fae creepin’ up on some officers a couple nights back, children goin’ missing, even—”
“Can we stop talking about this, please,” said Asta. She gave an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. “Blight, you three are making me nervous for a performance. Me! Can you believe that? I haven’t been nervous for a show my entire life, yet listening to you three going on and on about fae is giving me the shivers!”
However, that wasn’t the only reason. Asta stared out the window at the downpouring rain, and she couldn’t stop thinking about those men she’d seen the other night; the men she’d seen in her vision. At first, she thought it was just a trick, that they were just an image haunting her crowds, but when she got a closer look, she knew there was no denying it: those men were supposed to be either dead or dragged back to Helhaym. What did it mean that they were still alive?
They’re working with the fae; they have to be, but that would mean they’ve found me…
Michel rolled his eyes and plucked the strings of his guitar lackadaisically. “Sorry, mademoiselle. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t get snippy with me, Michel,” said Asta. She flashed a wicked glare at him, causing him to slump into his seat and focus all of his attention into warming up for the show. Turning her attention to Segrick, she said, “I want those rumors stomped out, you hear? I thought that was the plan from the beginning!”
“But jackie, I don’t think these rumors are about—”
“No butts, Segrick!” He tried opening his mouth to argue, but a sharp glare from Asta shut him down. Despite being half the dwarf’s size, when Asta raised her voice, everyone knew to listen.
She turned back to the window where she stared out at the pouring rain. Off on the horizon, peeking through alleyways, she could see the sun preparing to set, and between the clouds she could see the twinkling of stars as they came out for the evening. Shake the stars, she recalled.
Her vision began to grow hazy.
The mutters of an old man and the laughter of a little girl, hidden in a farmhouse not far from the city. A pair of young men, two we’ve seen before, will try to protect them with the help of a Galdic Maiden, but they are too weak; you are too weak! We want you to watch, we want you to see! For very soon, dear sister, you shall come to us!
Just as quickly as it appeared, the vision subsided, and she was back within the room at the Lady’s Rose, staring out the window up at the stars. Asta thought she could see wisps of fog already forming atop the cobblestone streets.
More strange voices; more strange visions. Why?
Shaking her head, she made her way over to the mirror and began to apply a thick black eyeliner to further accentuate her gaze.
“Let’s focus on the show, alright? Michel, you keep missing that pick up during the first phrase of Beau, Jhe’t Apel. Make sure you’re on time tonight. And Sandra, make sure you really apply that rosin; I could hear your bow stick during some of those arpeggios.” She sucked in a deep breath as her heart beat faster and her palms grew sweaty. “I want this to be our best show yet!”
At the behest of Madame Gerhard, most of the farmhands were beginning to wrap up their daily duties as the downpour grew even worse. Emecar, on the other hand, still had to finish his surveillance of the field; no easy task for a farm that spanned more than fifty acres. Luckily, the rain was warm, and he made sure to leave his firearms and extra gunpowder inside the manor house to keep them dry, but he was completely soaked to the bone.
He scoured the fields of wheat and tacleaf, as well around the numerous servants’ cabins, the barn and stables, and around the large pond near the north-eastern the corner which was beginning to flood. The last stop, and the one Emecar was most intrigued by, was the Dragon Shrine constructed behind the farmhouse. How could a single family afford the construction of such a lavish structure?
Emecar had visited various towns and villages across Singard, but none had a shrine as beautiful as this: silver plated archways depicting a pair of crescent moons hung over the entrance; stone pillars painted white, blue, green, red and black; beautifully shimmering stained-glass windows; and atop it all was a golden dome. The shrine was not massive, only large enough to fit a small group of maybe four or five, but regardless of size, it was clearly built with love and devotion.
Taking advantage of the shelter, Emecar slipped inside to dry himself off. The shrine’s interior contained an altar at the far end of the chamber and was decorated with candles around the familial codex of remembrance; on the wall behind it was depicted the Seven Point Cross: holy symbol of the Dragons; a dull carpet woven with the colors of the seven Dragon-Gods covered the rough stone floor; and a hearth decorated with engravings of Azuhiel and Velhien rested on the western wall. Within the hearth’s soot and ash, Emecar could see the remnants of sunflowers and moonlilies.
Praying before the altar was Louis. As a cool wind blew in and the door closed behind, he turned to face Emecar; his cheeks were red, and his eyes bloodshot.
“Are you alright,” asked Emecar. Louis nodded, wiping his cheeks. Emecar gestured around and said, “This is a beautiful shrine; we don’t have any in the city.”
“It’s a shame isn’t it,” said Louis. He turned and rested a hand atop the codex of remembrance. “They expect us to worship Sindelle same as they, but what good does that do us humans, eh?”
“Not much,” said Emecar.
Louis laughed and gently traced his fingers over the Seven Point Cross on the codex’s cover. “My grandfather was a devout man. He built this shrine sixty years ago, after Draconia fell. Said it was the greatest blunder in our nation’s history, to defy the dragons so. He died not long after its construction, and he’s the first name in our family’s codex.”
“Well, he did a wonderful job. He should be proud,” said Emecar. He looked over at the hearth with the remnants of sunflowers and moonlilies. “Did you burn those?”
“Huh? Oh, no,” said Louis solemnly. “Those were father. He’s been praying every morning and every night for nearly a week now, burning offerings to Azuhiel and Velhien, hoping they’ll answer his prayers. I suppose they were answered, weren’t they?”
“Do you mean us? Rukifelth, Sister Emli, and I,” he asked. “I don’t think the gods have ever once had me in their thoughts.” He knelt beside the hearth and scooped a handful of ash and lingering sunflower petals. Growing up in a Galdic Temple, Emecar wasn’t subjected to Dragon rituals, but he’d learned about them over the years: sunflowers were the sacred flower of Azuhiel, and moonlilies were Velhien’s; to burn them was to offer sacrifice to the gods.
“Father may be a little loose in the head, but I-I never thought he was wrong,” said Louis distantly. “I haven’t heard any of the songs he’s been raving about, but I’ve been hearing rumors: the fae have been growing restless. Even as far as Coldan Cove or Amber Meadows, there’ve been rumors about fae slinking their ways into cities and dragging their victims to Helhaym.”
“I heard those too,” said Emecar.
Louis choked back tears as he thumbed through the pages of the codex of remembrance. “I wanted to give a prayer myself. I prayed that nothing will befall us; that Azuhiel will look over our home and keep my family safe, and for Velhien be merciful should the worst befall us.”
Emecar wiped the lingering ash from his hand onto his damp pantleg and stood. “I know it rings hollow, but I genuinely mean it when I say we’ll do everything in our power to protect you.”
Louis was silent for a moment before he asked, “Do you really think this could be a wytch?”
Emecar didn’t know what to say; he genuinely had no idea. His encounter with the Kintelgas the other night, as well as the strange song he’d heard made him certainly believe it was wytchcraft. Should he lie, he wondered; would lying give this man a sense of comfort, or would it be better to tell him what he truly believed? His silence said all he needed to, and Louis nodded nervously.
Thunder boomed off in the distance, and Emecar heard the windows of the shrine rattle. “You should be getting inside,” said Emecar. “It’ll be dark before you know it, and then the fog will start creeping in.”
Louis agreed. He closed the codex and made his way to the doorway. On his way out, he quietly said, “Thank you,” and left.
Alone in the shrine, Emecar knelt beside the hearth. There was still a bit of kindling as well as some matches nearby. Resting his sabre and shield on the wall, he lit a small fire, and offered a prayer of his own.
He looked upon the engravings of Azuhiel and Velhien, flickering in the light, and said, “Father of Sunshine, I beseech thee: grant me the strength needed to protect these people. Guide my hand, strengthen my resolve; allow me…” Thunder boomed again, and a chilling wind ran through the shrine. The flame flickered but remained lit. Emecar took a deep breath and continued: “Allow me the courage to keep fighting after my heart has faltered.”
To protect the weak, to heal the hurt, to smite the wicked. I am…
Asta stood at the center of the Lady’s Rose makeshift stage. The crowd was a bit smaller than usual, but she chose to believe it was due to the storm outside. Still, despite their size, they cheered and applauded for her. It wasn’t a real theater, she thought, but it was a crowd that adored her. She imagined rows and rows of seats, tall balconies, and a gallery for the lords and ladies of Singard to admire her performance. She smiled wide, sucked in a deep breath, and loudly declared:
“Welcome, messieurs and mademoiselles! I am so thankful you all decided to wade this storm to join us this evening!” The crowd erupted into boisterous cheers and delighted applause. Asta gestured wide and said, “Tonight, we hope to make all of your fears and worries disappear! So, sit back, have yourselves a drink or two, and enjoy the show!”
As the band started to play, the audience began clapping along. Asta’s heart raced as it always did during a performance; she danced and twirled to the beat as Segrick stomped, Sandra tapped, and Michel rapidly thumped the body of his guitar with his thumb.
It was exhilarating. Even with a crowd such as this, Asta felt truly alive. She belted her heart out, and with every word that escaped her lips, she could feel her joy grow more and more. On the stage, performing for others, was where she truly belonged.
They performed one song, and then another, and then another. With each song finished, the crowd grew more and more wild, cheering and singing along to some fo the songs they’d heard the previous nights.
When they finished their fourth song, Asta took a moment to break from the music and work the crowd up just a little. She saw a man off near the back who looked like he was a little embarrassed to be there, yet he never took his eyes from her. He was pretty cute, she thought. A human boy–perhaps a man to other humans–with bright yellow hair and wearing a disheveled shirt and patchwork coat.
Perfect! He shall be my prey for the evening!
She pointed at the young man and said, “You there! Is something the matter?” The boy pointed to himself, unsure if she was really talking to him. “Yes you! I’m sorry, are my songs not to your liking?”
“N-No! Er, I mean, yes? I-I don’t—”
Asta hopped off the stage and sauntered through the crowd, gingerly caressing the hands of the voracious men who tried to grab at her as she walked by. Always leave them wanting a little more, she thought.
When she reached the young man, she puffed out her chest and forced his back to the wall. “What’s your name, monsieur?”
“S-Sharles, mademoiselle.”
“Well, Sharles, what kind of song shall I sing next?” He averted his eyes.
How cute.
She wriggled her shoulders and winked at him. “This next song will be just for you, alright? So, pay attention and listen well! I want you to sing along with all of these other beautiful people, alright?”
He nodded, but he looked a bit more terrified than embarrassed. How peculiar; what could be eating away at this young man to make his night so dour, she wondered?
A chill ran up Asta’s spine; she thought she heard laughter ring in her ears; the laughter of the three women who haunted her nightmares.
No! It’s not possible! I came to the city because they don’t…
But we will for you, dear sister. You cannot run; you cannot hide. You will join us once again.
Asta shook her head, and quickly made it all a part of the show. She blew an exaggerated kiss to Sharles and then skipped back to the sage. The crowd roared when she hopped up, but when she turned to face them, it looked like Sharles was gone. Had she scared him away? What a pity, she thought.
“Messieurs and mademoiselles, why don’t we start having a little fun tonight? For this next song, I think we should all—”
Then she recognized someone in the crowd, someone who shouldn’t have been there, and it made her heart sink. Standing in the middle of the crowd was a man with dark, ruffled hair and a pair of spectacles on his crooked nose.
“Adam?”
T-That’s not possible! He can’t be here! He can’t be! He’s…he’s…
Asta’s knees grew weak, and everything fell utterly silent, almost as if no one was in the room; it was just she and him.
“Go on,” he said; his voice was exactly how she remembered, as if nothing had happened. “Sing your next song, darlin’.”
Asta’s mouth fell agape. He looked so happy as he joyfully applauded her like he always did, yet there was something wrong; his smile wasn’t his own, and his eyes were different. He wasn’t Adam as much as he was someone else’s memory of him.
His face began to twist until it was completely obscured by dark shadows, and his eyes glinted with a haunting yellow fire. He started to grow, until he towered over everything and everyone in the tavern. Asta’s hands trembled as his long, gnarled arms reached out for her, his fingers digging into the stage. He gave a sinister cackle that echoed in Asta’s ears.
And then she collapsed.
“Duncan, did you hear that,” whispered Juliet.
Her cousin rolled in their bed, shoving her aside. “Juliet, you’re gonna get me in trouble, y’hear?”
“But I heard something outside,” she said. Solenne, her older sister, shushed them both from across the room, much to Juliet’s chagrin.
“It was just the rain,” said Duncan, and with that, he was done.
Juliet laid her head on her pillow and stared out the window. The dark gray clouds covered the sky, and rain showered down upon their farm, but she knew what she heard: the song. For the past several nights, she’d heard someone outside her window, speaking to her in a language she didn’t know. She thought it was all in her imagination until her grandpa had said something the other night. She couldn’t believe he heard the same things she could, but then when she got to the city, the voices were gone. When she stayed that night in the temple, there was no song; it was just a normal silent night.
Therefore, Juliet knew it couldn’t be just her imagination, and she was determined to figure out what it was.
She laid in bed, waiting patiently for her siblings and cousin to fall asleep, and once she was absolutely certain, she crawled out of bed and quietly crawled along the floor until she got to the bedroom window, where she peered out across the field. Unable to see much, she creaked it open ever so slightly and listened beyond the crashing rain.
“cOMe, mY DEar,” a voice said. Juliet stumbled back, nearly tripping over her own feet. Her loud thumps echoed through the room, and Juliet was afraid she’d woken her siblings. Luckily, the rain muddled her stumbling, and they were still fast asleep.
I heard that! I can hear them now!
Juliet poked her head out the window and looked around. She couldn’t see anyone, but she knew they were out there somewhere. Quickly, she grabbed a coat from the wardrobe and put on her slippers, and she climbed outside.
After the children had been sent off to bed, Emli sat in the den with Marie and Delphine while Cedric and Louis assisted their mother with tending to their father who was more frantic than usual. Normally, it would allow the women time to sit back and talk about things other than crop prices, but instead Marie and Delphine were growing more and more nervous with each crash of thunder.
Delphine knitted furiously to try and calm her nerves, but it was causing her more stress than it was relaxing. As thunder boomed off in the distance, she dropped one of her knitting needles and shouted, “Blighted storm! Why tonight, of all nights! Why did any of this…”
Her voice trailed off as she broke into tears. Marie tried to comfort her, but there was little she could say. Emli wanted to do something, but what? What could she possibly say or do that wouldn’t sound like an empty platitude?
“Don’t be scared,” she said. She immediately wanted to take it back; that was the exact thing she knew not to say, but it was all she could think of. She winced at Delphine’s sharp, terrified glare, but quickly added, “Emecar and Rukifelth are highly competent. I know they may not seem like much, but they’ve battled all manner of fae before this.”
“I’m sure they have, sister,” said Delphine, “but I haven’t. Beyond a stray whisper, I’ve never even heard a fae speak, let alone see one or have one come after my family!”
Emli flinched, and another boom of thunder rattled the house.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Louis and Sabine descended the stairs and arrived in the den. “Dad’s finally calmed down a bit,” said Louis. He looked at Delphine who’d resumed her frantic knitting and said, “I heard some shouting; is everything alright.”
“Just peachy dear,” she said. “Just waiting for fae to come nab up our children is all.”
Emli bit her tongue, and her fingers fiddled with a small bit of lace on her dress skirt. She looked out the window–watching the heavy sheets of rain hit the glass–and her mind went to Emecar and Rukifelth out in the servants’ quarters with Bernard and the other farmhands. Would they be alright, she thought? Of course, they would; they were adepts. They could protect themselves. But what about herself and the Gerhards? It was her duty to keep them calm and protected while the two of them fought the fae.
What do I do? If something awful happens–if there really is a wytch lurking out there–what can I do?
Her hands began to sweat, and her breathing grew heavy.
Sabine dusted off her apron and said, “Why don’t I brew us some tea; that should help calm the nerves a bit.”
Emli agreed, and after Sabine made her way to the kitchen, went back to watching the rain fall outside. A knot formed in her stomach; she was sure she could see it: fog in the distance, slowly creeping in.
“We’ve made sure to lock all the doors, correct,” she asked.
“We have,” said Louis.
“And what about the windows? Have we made sure all the shutters are closed?”
“Already on it, mademoiselle, er, sister,” he said awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “Cedric thought it’d be a good idea as we were putting dad to bed and then went to check to make sure all the upstairs windows were locked tight.”
Marie began to nervously twiddle her fingers and play with her hair as she looked outside, and Emli guessed she’d seen the fog rolling closer as well. “We’ll need more then locked doors and shut windows, surely.”
Emli shook her head. “Fae cannot leave the fog; if they do, they’ll slowly die. It’s why they commonly resort to tricking their victims into it.”
“Y-You’re sure,” asked Marie.
“Of course,” Emli lied; she had no idea why the fae stayed in the fog, nor why they resorted to tricking their victims. All she knew was what she’d been told, and what she’d been told was when the fog creeped in was to lock the doors and stayed hidden.
When Sabine returned with a small cup of hot tea, Emli slowly sipped as she watched Louis secure the few remaining windows. Outside, something caught her eye: something small skulking away from the house. Before she could get a good look, Louis closed the shutter.
“There,” he said confidently. “That’s all of ‘em.”
Emli closed her eyes and tried to stay calm. “Mother…”
“Juliet’s gone!” Cedric came frantically scrambling down the stairs, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “She’s not in the bedroom!”
Frantic cries came from Marie and Delphine as Sabine tried desperately to calm them. Behind Cedric, Emli saw the three other children come rushing down the stairs, all of whom looked nervous and afraid.
“I-I’m sorry, papa,” said Solene with tears running down her cheeks, “I-I didn’t think—”
“It’s alright, darling. It’s not your fault,” said Cedric gently brushing her cheek. In his eyes, Emli saw an unimaginable terror growing by the second.
Quickly, Emli ran to the door and said, “All of you stay here and keep the door and windows locked. I’ll go and…” She felt the words tremble in her throat. She felt her knees tremble, and her palms sweat, but she had to do this. “I’ll go and look for her.”
As she reached for the door, Louis rushed up to stop her. “Madame, wait. Are you sure about this? Emecar said they use trickery; what if this is a trick?”
“The fog hasn’t reached the house yet,” she said. “I-If I can find Juliet quick enough, then we’ll be alright.”
Emli pushed past him and opened the door, and a frigid air wafted in. The rain continued to downpour, and far off through the darkness she could see the lingering wisps of white fog slowly encroaching the fields.
“I’m coming too,” said Cedric. “This is my daughter, and I’m not going to lose her to these monsters.”
“No, monsieur,” said Emli, “I can’t risk you too.”
“And why not!” He stomped furiously towards Emli, and she could see on his face he was struggling to fight back tears. “My daughter is out there, and the longer we wait in here, the sooner she could be—”
“Monsieur, you are not fit to help right now,” said Emli. She mustered all of her confidence, trying her best to imagine what Lady Liza would do in her shoes. She raised her chin and said, “I’m a Maiden of the Galdic Lineage. It is my duty to protect those in need, and in your condition, you will be a risk not only to yourself, but to your daughter as well.” Emli kept her eyes focused on Cedric’s. She couldn’t waver; her determination had to overwhelm his.
Cedric clenched his hands into tight fists to keep them from trembling and maintain a strong demeanor, but against Emli’s decided gaze, he conceded. He collapsed to a knee, his head in his hands, as he cursed at himself under his breath.
I promise, I will not fail.
“Jackie, are you alright?”
When Asta came to, she was still on the stage of the Lady’s Rose. Her bandmates loomed over her, while the wild crowd tried to swarm around her. They cried out, asking if she was alright and what had happened. Asta looked out to crowd; was Adam–or whatever was pretending to be Adam–still hiding amongst them?
Asta’s eyes met Segrick’s, and unable to speak, she weakly shook her head. Please get me out of here was what she wanted to say, but nothing came out. Luckily, Segrick knew exactly what she needed. He scooped her up into his massive arms and loudly said, “The lady ain’t feelin’ well tonight! Sorry, jacks and jackies, but I’m afraid the show is over for the evenin’! Sorry ‘bout any inconvenience!”
The crowd erupted into frustrated shouts and jeers, many of whom demanded an explanation, but Segrick ignored them, stomping his way through the crowd with Michel and Sandra close behind.
“I-I’m sorry,” Asta croaked.
“Don’t you be sorry, jackie,” said Segrick, “you just keep your head on straight, y’hear?”
Asta could hear more and more disgruntled guests reaching and clawing for her, but Segrick’s large frame kept them at bay. When they finally got back to their room, Segrick laid Asta down on her bed. Her stomach twisted into knots as she heard the restless crowd fuming outside the door. She’d always dreamed of such adoration, but never at a time like this.
Sandra felt her forehead and said, “She ain’t running a fever.”
“Then what could’ve done this,” asked Michel. “She was right as sunlight not ten minutes ago, and then suddenly…”
His voice faded until Asta couldn’t hear him anymore. She couldn’t hear anything: not Michel, not Sandra nor Segrick, not even the massive crowd outside. Instead, all she heard was a quiet laughter that rang from the deepest recesses of her mind. It was simultaneously eerily quiet and deafeningly loud.
The little girl hides beneath the falling rain, and the old man stares out his ramshackle window. A lone maiden searches in vain for our prey; perhaps we’ll take her as well, and those two humans from the other night: they too will soon fall into our trap too. Soon…soon…soon…
“Leave,” Asta spat.
Her bandmates looked at her cautiously. “Asta, we can’t just—”
“Leave!” The three recoiled back as if Asta had struck each of them across the face. They stumbled back, afraid of what would come next if they refused. They each shared a glance, and then finally stepped out of the room to face the reckless crowd.
Once alone, Asta struggled to sit upright in her bed. That wicked laughter was the only thing she could hear; it wasn’t maniacal or frantic, but instead calm and joyous. She hobbled out of bed and stumbled across the room until she got to the mirror on the vanity; she had to see what had happened to her.
The reflection was not hers, or at least, not entirely her own. She saw the inklings of her face: blue eyes and black hair, but her cheeks were not her own, nor was the shape of her eyes. Her chin was too sharp, and her teeth too white.
“Who are you,” she said to her reflection.
“i aM yOU,” spoke her reflection. Asta’s hands trembled. “It’S TiME foR uS to GO hOMe, ANd fOr ouR FAmILy tO be WHolE again.”
Behind her reflection, Asta saw the shape of a tall human woman with shimmering emerald-green hair. It smiled warmly, like that of a sibling or close family friend reuniting after years apart.
“You DIdn’T tHInk YoU cOULd STaY hIDdeN fOReVer, Did YoU,” the woman asked. Asta shook her head and tried to speak but couldn’t find the words.
Another woman–a massive dwarf with sky-blue eyes and a long gray beard–appeared behind her as well and said, “thERe’s nO uSE RUNninG. ThE LoNG niGHt iS ALmoSt uPon uS.”
“AlL thE pRePArAtiONs aRE SeT; EvERYthInG is REaDy,” spoke a third woman, a small gnome with vibrant yellow and red hair, and a pair of miss-matched eyes: one pure white and one pure black. “iT is OnlY a MaTTer of TimE.”
And then their laughter turned wicked. The three women, hovering behind her, began cackling with utmost delight as Asta watched her own reflection smile and join them.
“Get out! Get out,” she screamed. “Leave me alone!”
Asta wasn’t sure how it happened, but her face and arms were suddenly covered in dozens of small cuts, and the glass from the mirror was spread across the floor. She hobbled back to her bed, slamming her face into her pillow, and screamed as her blood stained the sheets.
Emecar and Rukifelth sat around the fireplace of Bernard’s cabin alongside a few of the other farmhands who eagerly listened to their stories of their various adventures. They drank wine, played cards, and enjoyed the hospitality of the servants, all in thanks for helping return Juliet home.
As the rainfall grew heavier and the thunder grew louder, a couple of the servants began growing restless. “S-Say, you don’t really think fae are gonna come attack, do ya?”
“Of course, we do,” said Rukifelth, “that’s why we’re here.”
The farmhands slumped in their chairs, nervously looking back and forth between one another and the window. Rukifelth laughed.
“You’ve nothing to worry about,” he said. “They ain’t after you; as long as you stay inside, keep all the doors and windows shut, you’ll be safe.”
Emecar leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and keeping an eye out the cabin window: he could see fog beginning to form at the far edges of the field, and he knew the time for action was soon approaching.
He hoped that it would be nothing; that the fae would simply skitter around the fog and try to get inside to no avail, but he couldn’t help but fear the worst would happen. He’d told everyone he could about the fae and their tricks–to stay inside no matter what they hear and to not let anything in–but the fae were devious. Should anything go awry, who knew what could happen.
A part of him wished they could’ve stayed at the house, but…
There was a small bit of movement off in the distance; near one of the second-floor windows of the farmhouse, Emecar was certain he saw the window open and then shut. He leaned forward, straining his eyes to see beyond the heavy falling rain: it seemed that they were just closing the window shutters. Good, he thought, they were playing it safe.
Emecar looked down at the amethyst bracelet on his wrist. He could feel the Aether within pulse as if desperately trying to escape. At times, it almost felt like it was Emli holding his hand. He breathed deeply and imagined the flame envelope him.
Warm yourself; may the fire be a ward against those who try to hurt you or the ones you love. Protect the innocent; heal the hurt…
Thunder crashed outside, and the rickety servant’s cabin began to shake. What’s more, they heard something skitter around outside. The farmhands fell silent; off in the distance beyond the pouring rain, the frantic mooing of cattle and the squeals of pigs rang in the air.
The fae had arrived.
Emecar and Rukifelth stood, grabbing their sabres and sidearms; in the storms, their guns would be useless, a fact that made both of them sneer. Another crash of thunder, and more skittering. Off in the distance, he thought he could hear a voice calling for Juliet, pleading for her to come back inside.
“It’s a trick; don’t fall for it,” said Rukifelth. He made his way to the window and latched it shut allowing for only a small amount of visibility.
“Y-You’re certain,” asked Bernard.
“Absolutely, now, keep everything locked and shut. Emecar, can you do a quick check of the other rooms?”
Emecar nodded. He secured his shield firm to his arm and began his check of the servants’ kitchen and sleeping chamber. He heard the voice again, and though he tried not to think much of it, he couldn’t help but shiver as he thought of Juliet being locked outside in the storm. However, he couldn’t shake just how much the voice sounded like Emli’s. Was that all a trick to lure him out. But how would they know her voice, he thought?
As he latched up the kitchen windows, he saw the skittering finger-like legs of the childnappers rummage through the thick fog. He looked out to the farmhouse, several acres away, and saw a large black cloud looming over head.
Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, and in that brief moment of light, Emecar saw something that made his heart sink: Emli! It was only for a second, but he was certain he saw her out in the field, standing in the rain.
What is she doing? Why is she outside?
His eyes darted up again to the shadowy cloud that loomed above the farmhouse. It writhed with eyes and mouths, and Emecar felt his stomach twist into knots. It had to be a trick, he told himself; it had to be, but he couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t going to risk Emli’s life. The fog was still several paces from the house, and if he moved fast enough, he could get to her before the fog could.
Emecar bolted out of the kitchen and towards the cabin’s front door. Without explaining himself, he shouted to Rukifelth, “Emli’s in danger,” and ran out the front door. He slammed it shut behind him and envisioned the bonfire within him raging to life. He sucked in a deep breath and felt the glowing wisps of blue Aether, the color of transmutation, swirl around him.
He dashed through the fog, his body growing lighter and moving faster. He could feel the fog begin to coil itself around his ankles, trying to trap him in place. He imagined the flame growing more and more intense, and in mere seconds, he’d ran nearly three hundred feet and was face to face with Emli.
She stared at him in a daze, almost as if she wasn’t sure he was real or not, but soon said, “E-Emecar, Juliet’s missing! S-She…we need to find her before—”
It was too late; Emecar heard the skittering of fae approaching from behind, and above he could see the dark wriggling cloud begin to descend. Just as it had done the nights prior, the fog began to quickly envelope them both, and he and Emli were trapped in the middle of it.
Emecar grabbed her hand as he felt the thick, ghostly fog try and pull them apart.
Protect…
Shining violet Aether began to radiate from Emecar’s body until he glowed like a bonfire. The color of abjuration seemingly burned away the fog, preventing it from approaching them, but Emecar knew he couldn’t hold it up for long, and that soon the fae would overcome their fear and attack.
“We need to get back inside,” he shouted over the crashing of rain. Thunder boomed, and lightning flashed; he could see the look of terror and panic in Emli’s eyes.
She shook her head. “W-We need to find Juliet!”
The fog began to coil around the farmhouse, and Emecar lost sight of the servant’s quarters. He knew Emli wouldn’t head back inside without Juliet, and neither would he; their only hope would be to find her before it was too late.
His heart sank; he prayed it wasn’t.
Emecar pulled Emli through the field, the violet glow of Aether illuminating their path, and he lead her to the Dragon Shrine. Inside was dark, with only the glowing of Emecar’s Aether and the occasional flash of lightning illuminating it for them. Emecar’s heart pounded, and his breathing grew harsh. He’d seen the skittering limbs of the childnappers, and it felt as if the fog was more aggressive than it had been a few nights ago. It was heavy–thick–unlike normal fog. Something about it made his hair stand on end.
But thankfully, there was no song.
“Emecar, what do we do,” asked Emli. “Juliet could still be out there. We have to do something, we have to—”
“You have to stay here,” said Emecar. He hugged her, and as they stood silent in the shrine, dripping wet, he said, “No matter what, you stay here where it’s safe. I-I can’t risk losing you.”
“You can’t go out there alone!”
He smiled as confidently as he could and held up his shield arm to reveal the bracelet tied snuggly to his wrist. “I’m not alone. I’ve a little bit of you with me.”
Emecar kissed her.
I promise to not let any harm befall Emli, Juliet, or anyone else under my protection. I am…
“I’ll let you know when I’m back, alright? Until then, don’t open this door for anyone! Fae use trickery to hunt their prey.” And with that, he ran back out into the fog.
“Blighted fool!” Rukifelth couldn’t believe just how stupid his brother was: running off alone into a fog-covered field filled with fae? And now it was up to Rukifelth to go save him! Armed with only his sabre and parrying dagger, Rukifelth dashed through the fog in search of Emecar.
The Black Beast stalks its prey!
Blue Aether, the color of transmutation, swirled around Rukifelth’s body, as the taunting screams of the fae tried to nag at his mind. He thought he could hear the screams of Emecar, Emli, and Juliet; he thought he heard more: the blood curdling screams he’d desperately wanted to forget, yet still held onto.
His hands trembled with both fear and rage. With a swift swing of his sabre, Rukifelth cut through the oncoming horde of childnappers, his blade cleaving their finger-like legs from their bodies and splitting them in two. In a single flash of lightning, he’d cut down three, but more quickly arrived to take their place.
Childnappers lunged at him from all sides as he ran, gnashing into his flesh with their long, jagged claws. It didn’t hurt–nothing hurt–but just made him angrier. His hate boiled just beneath the surface until he couldn’t contain it any longer.
Under the cover of night and the raging storm, Rukifelth allowed himself to cut loose.
The Black Beast howls!
Rukifelth let out a bellowing scream that carried through the night, as red Aether, the color of evocation–that which could expel Aether from one’s own body–exploded from within, carrying with it all the fury of his sword.
In the distance, Emecar could hear it: a nightmarish howl that filled the night sky, and a flash of red Aether radiated in the distance; Rukifelth was on the prowl. Emecar bit his tongue; he wanted to curse his brother for being so reckless, but fthat would make him a hypocrite.
As Emecar dashed through the foggy fields, he tried to keep his mind focused on the flame enveloping his body. He cried for Juliet, hoping that the violet Aether would let her know he was safe, but in response, all he could hear beyond the downpour of rain were the screams of Rukifelth, Emli, and Juliet all resonating in his head.
The fog grew thicker, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. Emecar felt the tug of the fog pull at him, beckoning him into the fae’s dominion, but he knew as long as he was protected by a veil of violet Aether, he’d be safe.
Emecar heard a rustling from the wheat fields a few paces behind him, and a shiver ran up his spine. He tightened his grip on his sabre, ready to strike any fae that came after him, but he stopped when he saw a pair of eyes frightfully staring up at him through the crop.
“P-Please,” the voice said, “I-I’m scared.”
Juliet? No, this is a trick! It had to be!
Emecar didn’t lower his guard as he stared into those small, terrified eyes. He took a step forward, hand still ready to strike, but hopeful that it really was Juliet. It was nearly impossible to make out any features on her face through the rain and fog, but Emecar was certain he recognized her voice. It sounded like…
He cautiously took another step forward and said, “Juliet? It’s alright. It’s me.”
Lightning flashed, and in that moment, Emecar caught a glimpse of the child: nothing was there. There were no eyes, there was no voice, and he suddenly felt a sharp pain dig into his side.
Emecar thrashed, pushing back creature that attacked him: it was bloated and malformed, hunched over with festering boil covered skin, and far too many limbs. It had arms where there should’ve been legs, hands with too many fingers, and more than a dozen eyes spread out across the creature’s distorted body; its mouth was curled and twisted, filled with gnarled teeth and fangs that overlapped one another and seemed to belong to a variety of different creatures; its mouth dripped with a thick, viscous green ooze.
A wytchling; the accursed offspring of the wytches.
With the creature’s long purple tongue, it lathered its gnarled claws with its festering bile and lunged forward, slashing at Emecar. He ducked away and deflected the monster’s attack, each slash from the creature grazing his shield the force of a blacksmith’s hammer. Emecar felt the impacts send tremors throughout his body.
When he finally got the chance, Emecar jumped back; his feet gliding across the mud. He envisioned the flame roaring to life, hoping to cast the color of transmutation and enhance his strength and speed, but a horrible sinuous pain burned in his side from where the wytchling had dug its claws into him.
Emecar nearly buckled over in pain, distracting him just long enough for the wytchling to spit up and hurl a globule of the slime at Emecar. As best he could, Emecar dodged the attack, but bits of the slime smeared across his shield and spread onto his face and eyes.
His face burned as if his skin was melting, and as frantically as he tried to wipe it off, the ooze just spread, sticking to his arms and hands; it was only through instinct and pure luck that he was able to deflect the wytchling’s oncoming attack. He felt the creature’s claws glide across his shield, and he countered with a wild swing of his sword.
He couldn’t see, and his feet were stuck in the mud. Whenever Emecar tried to open his eyes, he felt the acidic burning grow tenfold, and as he tried to control his Aether, the burning in his side grew worse. All he could do was swing his sword randomly and hope the creature couldn’t get close.
In an act of desperation, Emecar envisioned the flame burn brighter and brighter around him; a higher intensity than he’d ever pushed himself, and though the burning of his wound grew to an unbearable degree as the color of transmutation surged around his body, he let loose a wide and unpredictable slash.
Emecar felt only the smallest hint of resistance as his sabre cut effortlessly through the wytchling; the creature was split in half. Its body writhed on the ground, and its thick rotten blood seeped into the mud. It let out pained dying gurgles as it spent its last living moments straining to attack Emecar.
Once the creature stopped moving, Emecar collapsed to his knees. Everywhere the fae’s acidic slime had touched burned with an unbridled intensity, and despite the rain, it clung to his skin. Another bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, and Emecar caught the faint glimpse of even more fae closing in around him.
He struggled to open his eyes–fighting through the pain–and stood, his sword at the ready. His vision was hazy, and that mixed with everything around him–the fog, rain, and darkness of night–made seeing anything beyond his nose nearly impossible.
Don’t lose focus. Concentrate. Protect the innocent, heal the hurt…
A veil of violet Aether swirled around Emecar, as he dodged the attack of another wytchling that lunged at him from the fog, and then another, and then another. Before he knew it, Emecar was surrounded by three more fae, each one’s claws dripping with its viscous venom, and beyond them he knew he could hear more approaching.
His heart beat faster and faster, and his breathing grew heavier and heavier, but he was determined to keep fighting. For Juliet, for Emli, for the Gerhards and their servants; as long as the fae lingered outside their home, nobody was safe.
Emli sat alone in the dark shrine. She fell to her knees, unsure of what to do, or what to even think. She’d left the Gerhards completely unprotected under the guise that she would find their daughter, but instead, she was confined to the shrine unable to help.
She was freezing; the rain had soaked every inch of her, and in the dank shrine, she could feel every stray breeze send a painful shiver through her body. Her teeth chattered fervently, and Emli stumbled through the darkness, looking for anything that could give her some warmth.
Through her random stumbling, she found the shrine’s hearth, though it was baren of any kindling filled with the ashen remains of burnt sunflowers and moonlilies. Even if there was some, she was far too soaked to light a match. Would that even be a smart idea, she wondered. If she made a fire, no matter how small, would that alert the fae to where she was hiding? She slumped to the floor, clutching her chest, and sobbed.
Why can’t I do anything right? Why am I so…
“S-Sister,” a scared voice whispered. Emli jolted around and saw, hiding in a dark corner of the shrine, was Juliet. Her eyes were puffy, and her cheeks were red, but from what Emli could see, she was alright.
Emli scrambled over to her and tightly wrapped her arms around the little girl who was just as soaked and cold from the rain as she. “J-Juliet! Mother’s blessings y-you’re alright! W-Why d-did you sneak out? Why did y-you…”
“I-I don’t know,” she said. “I h-heard them. They t-told me to c-come to them. I’m sorry.”
The little girl cried in her arms, and Emli pulled her close. She tried to hum a song a song she’d sang to the children back at the temple, but the chattering of her teeth made that impossible. She ran her fingers through the little girl’s hair and gave a sigh of relief.
But then the fear set in: Emecar was outside looking for Juliet, unaware that she was safe. Quickly, Emli leapt to her feet and ran to the shrine’s door. She pounded, crying out to Emecar to let him know that he could come back.
Thunder boomed outside, and the flash of lightning briefly illuminated the shrine.
There was no way he could hear her, she thought. Even if he could, he’d think it was a trick of the fae to lower his guard. Emli backed away, nervously clutching her skirt. She had to have faith that he would be alright. She had to believe that he was strong enough to fight off the fae.
Emli looked upon the shadow covered engravings of Azuhiel and Velhien upon the hearth. She clasped her hands together and whispered, “Please, Father of Sunshine, Mother of Moonlight: protect him; protect Emecar. Keep us safe.”
Tears dripped onto her hands.
Something banged on the door, and a voice called in, “Let me in! It’s me!” Emli hardly had any time to compose herself: It was Emecar. “Please!”
The banging rand louder and louder, and Emli nearly opened the door instinctually until she recalled Emecar’s words: Fae use trickery to hunt their prey. She pulled her hand away and said, “Emecar, is that really you?”
“Yes! Please, it’s me, Emecar! Let me in!”
Her hand hovered over the door handle. “Y-You’ll need to prove it to me first,” she said. “I-If you really a-are Emecar, tell me: w-what’s your mother’s name!”
“What? Please! Let me in! Hurry! I-I’m hurt!”
Juliet tugged on Emli’s skirt and said, “S-Sister, Emecar n-needs help!”
“No, little one,” she said, “this isn’t Emecar.” Emli held Juliet’s hand, and the two backed away from the door as the voice on the other side continued to scream and bang on the door.
I won’t fall for your tricks.
For several minutes, Emli and Juliet sat huddled in the back of the shrine, listening as the fake Emecar continued screaming for help. “Please, hurry! They’re—”
The banging stopped, and the voice fell silent. Outside, all Emli could hear was the pouring rain and the booms of thunder. She held firm to Juliet’s hand and waited for the fae to start another one of their tricks.
Suddenly, a bright violet light flashed outside like a bolt of lightning. It illuminated the shrine for only a second, but in that second Emli felt all the hairs on her body stand on end. Though it lasted for less than a moment, Emli felt an overwhelming force radiate from it as it washed over her; though she’d never felt it before, she recognized immediately that the light was Aether.
Emli and Juliet sat in silence for what felt like hours as they waited for something else to happen. A flash of Aether that powerful couldn’t have been Emecar or Rukifelth, but she couldn’t imagine the fae using that kind of power either.
Slowly, Emli made her way to the door. She pressed her ear and listened for anything that could lurk outside: silence. Could this be another trick, she thought? Was that flash of Aether real or was it just another illusion. Emli held her breath and tried to peak through the cracks in the doorway: nothing but darkness.
She gently turned the handle, and a small wisp of fog drifted in.
A force hurled Emli to the back of the shrine. She crashed into the altar, scattering candlesticks across the floor. As if the air had been ripped from her lungs, Emli couldn’t breathe; her body fell limp. She felt Juliet rush to her side, but suddenly get yanked away by something.
The fog came pouring in and began to wrap itself around Emli’s arms and legs. She struggled, gasping for breath, but nothing came. Everything faded to black.
A wytchling lunged, attempting to grab hold of Emecar. He barely dodged, and in a flash, sliced off one of the creature’s many arms. It squealed in pain, but before Emecar could finish it off, the second wytchling attacked, and then the third; each claw slicing into and burning his flesh.
To make matters worse, whenever he tried to channel his Aether–envision the flame in his head–his wounds burned as if being touched by a hot iron. Perhaps the fae’s ooze was feeding off of him; Emecar didn’t know much about wytches and even less about their offspring, but he had heard how fae would cripple adepts with their noxious venoms.
A wytchling lunged, and Emecar was forced to channel his Aether to defend. His wounds burned: his side, his face, his eyes. He gasped, and his vision grew hazy. Without the use of his Aether, the fae would easily overrun him, but as long as he kept using it, he felt his stamina draining.
Emecar cleaved another pair of limbs from the second wytchling as it lashed for him, but before he could duck out of the way, the third crashed into him, dragging him to the ground. Emecar felt the air get ripped from his lungs, and his concentration faltered. His Aether ceased its pulsing; his arms and legs grew weak.
He struggled to roll over as the bloated fae pounced down on him. With the last bit of his strength, Emecar raised his sabre and plunged it into the wytchling’s belly. The creature squealed and squirmed, it’s blood dripping onto Emecar’s hand. It burned, but Emecar twisted the blade deeper and deeper into the creature until it collapsed lifeless on top of him.
Though he was relieved the creature was dead, Emecar was trapped.
The blood from the wytchling seeped through his coat like it was nothing, and the pouring rain only spread it across his aching body. To make matter’s worse, the creature’s weight was too much for him to shove off in his current condition; strain as he might, there was nothing he could do, and the fae seemed to realize that. The remaining two wytchlings skittered closer and closer, as did the pale fog.
As if trying to distract him, Emecar heard the screams of Juliet and Emli ring in his ears:
“Help us, Emecar!”
“Please!”
“Emecar, help!”
“Help us!”
“Emecar!”
“Please!”
Emecar closed his eyes, desperately trying to calm himself: control his breathing, focus on the image in his head, concentrate on what he needed to do and who he needed to protect.
Weak wisps of blue Aether swirled around his arms and despite the venomous burns, it gave Emecar just enough strength to shove the fae corpse off of him. The two wytchlings leapt for him.
The hum of Aether within his bracelet began to pulse, and for just a moment, Emecar thought he felt Emli’s hand in his. He sucked in sharply and felt the violet Aether from the amethyst meld with his own; he felt a strength beyond which anything he thought possible.
Emecar let out a pained grunt as the festering bile of the wytchling’s venom coursed through his body–feeding on his Aether–but he fought through the pain and imagined the flame wrapping itself not only around him, but around the entirety of the farm.
Smite the wicked!
Emecar let out a scream as violet Aether erupted from his body, illuminating the night in a glorious radiant light. The shrill screams of the fae rang in his ears, and then were immediately silenced. The fog around him was dispersed, and all that was left of the fae were scorched, lifeless corpses.
Unfortunately, though he’d killed many of the fae and banished some of the fog back to Helhaym, Emecar’s Aether was spent. He’d pushed himself beyond what he thought physically capable, and he no longer had the strength to keep fighting. He tried to stand, but his arms couldn’t lift him out of the thick mud, and his legs were completely paralyzed.
Weakly, he tried to drag himself back to the Dragon Shrine; there was nothing more he could do. He prayed Juliet was alright.
The fog began to return, and it slowly began to coil around him just as it had before. The rain grew colder, and the water on the ground began to freeze. From behind, he heard loud, heavy footsteps crunch the frigid ground. He struggled to crawl faster, but his hands slipped in the cold mud.
And then the singing began.
“aH, iT’s thE HuMAn aGAin,” said one voice.
“He’S peRSisTenT. he’LL mAkE a FIne ADDitIOn tO ouR FAmiLY,” said a second.
“Oh yES, OH yEs. WE nEEd STroNg MoRTalS like Him,” said the third.
Emecar felt the fog tighten itself around his legs; he couldn’t move any further. He turned, and towering over him was the massive four-armed fae he’d seen in the slums. Standing before him, wreathed in fog and its tattered bloodstained cloak was the Wytch-Queen’s most favored servant, born from the deepest nightmares of all mortals: The Kintelgas.
The creature reached down with one of its long, distorted arms; the jagged tooth-filled maw within the creature’s palm smiled with delight. Emecar desperately swung his sword, but the massive fae easily grabbed hold with one of its other gangly hands and ripped the blade from his grip.
Several long gray fingers coiled tightly around Emecar’s neck and squeezed; the fangs within its palms pressed deep into his neck. Emecar tried to fight back, but his body was numb, and his vision faded.
“NO nEEd To STruGglE.”
“iT’ll All BE oVeR sOOn.”
“YouR nEW fAMilY awAItS.”
Victor’s face was coated in sweat. He could hear the distressed voices coming from downstairs, but what concerned him most was the song he heard echoing in his ears:
“We’VE FouND yOU. Don’T RuN. GivE in. cOme Out. wE know yoU’Re aFraiD. Let uS In. comE wiTH Us. EvErYthIng yOU’vE eVer WAntEd. DreAMs cOMe tRuE. thE time is ALMoSt hERe. ComE oUt. doN’T bE scARed.”
He pressed his hands to his ears, trying desperately in vain to block out the haunting song, but it was no use. The song seemed to etch itself directly into his mind.
“G-Go away,” he whimpered. “Leave me alone!”
A bright flash of violet light illuminated his bedroom, and everything fell silent. Victor panted in disbelief; such an overwhelming force washed over him, something strong enough to make the Wytchsong go quiet, even if just for a moment.
He rattled out of bed and slowly walked to his window. Cedric had closed the shutters and told him not to open them, but Victor had to know: what caused that light? Was it Azuhiel showing mercy upon them, or perhaps Velhien?
Victor’s hands trembled as he slowly reached to unlatch the window; something in his head told him to do it, and he was unable to stop himself. He creaked open the wooden shutters and in creeped wispy tendrils of fog.
Before he knew it, the bedroom was filled with the thick white mist, and Victor heard a horrible cackling in his ears. He frantically tried to slam the window shut, but it was too late; emerging like a dark cloud from the fog itself was a swarm of small fae with bat-like wings, bird-like talons, and a writhing body made entirely of eyes and teeth: familiars.
The creatures gnashed and clawed at Victor, trying to pull him outside and into the fog. He grabbed hold of his bedpost, struggling for his life, as the small fae dug their fangs into his legs. He screamed in pain, and several of the fae swarmed around his face; their talons tried to pluck out his eyes and rip off his nose.
Victor lashed out with his legs, knocking just enough off of him to allow him to move again. He dashed for the door, swatting wildly at the fae as they continued to bite, slice, and tear into his flesh. Blood trickled down his face and soon he lost sight of where he was. He plummeted down the stairs, crashing into the ground at the feet of his family. They stared in horror. He couldn’t feel his legs, and he knew one of his arms was twisted and broken.
He looked up at his family, desperate to warn them about the fae, but it was too late. The horde of fae descended, and Victor was powerless to do anything but watch as the fae ravaged his home and attacked his family with their razor-like talons.
Victor felt several of the winged fae dig their talons into him and lift him off the ground, carrying him outside.
Rukifelth felt his stomach twist into knots; that flash of violet Aether could only have been Emecar, but how? He felt the fog around his legs begin to weaken and disperse, and he could hear the pained screams of fae off in the distance as they were pulled back into Helhaym.
His legs trembled; that kind of power was overwhelming, but it wasn’t something Emecar should’ve been capable of. Whatever happened, he needed to find his brother soon. He dashed through the field–his eyes straining against the darkness–as he heard the fae resume their hunt. It wouldn’t take long before the fog overtook him yet again.
Through the torrent, Rukifelth could barely make out the candle lights flickering in the windows of the farmhouse. As he approached, he could hear glass shatter, the lights flicker out, and people begin screaming; had the fae gotten inside? He channeled his Aether–the vision of the Black Beast stalking his dreams–and ran faster and faster.
It didn’t take long before the fog had completely engulfed him and obscured his vision. Fae lunged at him, their claws tearing into his flesh as he ran past; he wasted no time trying to dodge their attacks. As the Black Beast howled in his mind, Rukifelth felt red Aether, the color of evocation, pulse through his arms and into his sabre as he swung. A wave of red light erupted from his sword, carving through the horde of fae, and leaving them in pieces as he dashed by.
Approaching the house, Rukifelth felt the air grow cold, and the ground begin to crunch beneath his feet. Then he heard it: a strange song that echoed in through the rain and fog, seemingly directly into Rukifelth’s mind; a strange otherworldly melody in a language unlike anything he’d heard before, yet something about it seemed oddly familiar. He’d heard this voice before, hadn’t he?
Peering through the fog, Rukifelth saw the silhouette of a massive four-armed fae, one nearly twice as tall as he, and dangling limp in one of its long arms was a body: Emecar.
The Black Beast pounces!
A burning rage coursed through Rukifelth’s veins, and Aether–red and blue–surged around his body as he dashed through the fog at a speed unmatched. With a furious roar, Rukifelth lunged, plunging his sword into the beast.
It let out a nightmarish shriek as it stagged away, dropping Emecar’s limp body into the mud. Without hesitation, Rukifelth grabbed Emecar, swung him over his shoulder, and ran. He could feel Emecar’s breath on his neck, and he could hear his weak murmurings; he was alive, but in bad condition. The gash in his neck was dripping with blood, and his face had nearly lost all its color. Rukifelth needed to get him somewhere safe where he could mend his wounds quickly.
Rukifelth nearly crashed into the farmhouse veranda as it appeared from behind the fog wall. Windows had been shattered, and the front door had been knocked off its hinges. Inside he could hear screams and thrashing, and on the front porch he could see a trail of blood leading down into the fields.
Rukifelth turned around to see if the massive fae was following them, but he could barely see beyond his nose. Rukifelth carried Emecar up the veranda steps and sat him down near the front door.
“You stay with me now, y’hear,” he said. Emecar’s eyes were hazy and distant; he looked up into Rukifelth’s eyes and tried to speak, but the only sounds he could make were weak, silent murmurs. “Stay awake! Don’t close your eyes!”
From inside the house, the violent screams and thrashings grew louder. Sword in hand, Rukifelth swallowed hard and barged into the farmhouse where the chaos awaited.
Everything was destroyed: furniture smashed and thrown about, and blood was splattered on the walls and carpets. Winged fae consisting entirely of eyes and talons were attacking the Gerhards, as well a pair of childnappers. Cedric, armed with only a long kitchen knife, was protecting the children and his mother, while Louis protected Marie and Delphine armed only with the splintered remains of a chair.
Their bodies were bloodied, and though they fought valiantly, they weren’t fighters, and the fae easily tossed them around, almost like they were playing. As Rukifelth rushed in–body covered in surging blue Aether–he cleaved through the nefarious fae without hesitation.
As the fae squirmed lifelessly on the ground, the family stared at Rukifelth in utter disbelief. Once the threat was gone, Cedric and Louis collapsed to the ground, exhausted. Rukifelth wanted to scream at them–reprimand the family for being foolish enough to let the fae trick them into the house–but he knew it’d do no good. What had been done had been done.
His eyes scanned their faces, and he realized Juliet, Emli, and Victor were nowhere to be seen.
“Where are they,” he shouted, but the family didn’t answer; they couldn’t. The children and their mothers sobbed, and the weakly old Sabine tried diligently to mend the wounds on her sons. “I said where are they?”
“W-We don’t know,” groaned Cedric. “F-Father was taken; Sister Emli went looking for Juliet.”
Rukifelth’s eyes darted around the destroyed house. His heart was beating frantically, and he didn’t know what to do first. He ran back outside to scan the area, but he couldn’t see anything except fog and rain. He knelt down beside Emecar who was still sitting limply by the door, unable to stand, and barely able to speak. Rukifelth picked him up over his shoulder dragged him inside, laying him down beside the others.
“Get somewhere safe, y’hear? A cellar, a closet, I don’t care where, but make sure it’s secure! No one gets in or out, no matter what! Understand?”
He didn’t wait for a response and ran back out into the fog.
Emli was lost in an endless darkness. She tried to move, but it felt like her feet were trapped in mud. She tried to wave her arms or turn her head, but it felt like she was trapped in a vice; her head being slowly crushed.
Suddenly, Emli felt herself falling. No, not falling, she was being dragged along by something, and then she felt her body slam into something hard.
She was in a river; a violent river tossing her around like she was nothing. There was a pain in her chest, and Emli realized she wasn’t breathing. She tried to suck in a deep breath, but her body wouldn’t let her. Emli tried desperately to swim to the surface, but as soon as she got close, her legs and arms would give up, and the river smashed her into the rough riverbank. She struggled again and again, but each time, the river pulled her deeper down.
Her lungs screamed; she needed to breathe, and she thought her head was going to burst. Harder and harder she swam to the surface, but it seemed the harder she tried, the further out of reach the surface became.
Her tears became lost in the water, and she surrendered herself completely. She sank, deeper and deeper. Was this how she died, she thought? She couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten there. The last thing she remembered was…
Just as her eyes were about to close, Emli felt something gently touch her fingertips. Her hazy vision caught a glimpse of something shimmering in the river, and when she looked a bit closer, she saw Emecar, floating lifelessly in the river beside her. She reached out to him, but the current pulled her away.
She watched as Emecar sank deeper and deeper into the river, and Emli felt something spark within her. She swam down with all her might, but decided not to fight against the current, and instead let the current pull her down with him. She extended her hand and grabbed hold of Emecar’s wrist, and with him in tow, Emli used her momentum from the river’s current to swim up higher, and higher, and higher until she and him crested the river’s surface, and she sucked in a deep, much needed breath of air.
Life flowed into her, and Emli felt herself burst with energy.
Her eyes shot open, and she was lying outside the Dragon Shrine, rain falling onto her face. As Emli stood, she saw small flecks of wispy violet light surrounding her: the color of abjuration. On the ground beside her was the singed corpse of a childnapper. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing; she was using Aether, but how? Furthermore, as she looked around, she realized that the fog was dissipating around her, as if it was unable to touch her.
Thunder boomed, and lighting illuminated the darkness; across the field, Emli caught a glimpse of Juliet being dragged away by a childnapper. One of the creature’s long finger-like legs was wrapped firmly around the screaming little girl as it skittered away. Not only that, but Emli could see the farmhouse had been ransacked. She could hear screams of terror coming from inside. How had the fae gotten in? They knew not to open up for anyone, didn’t they?
Perhaps they thought she’d returned with Juliet?
She shook her head; there wasn’t time to fret over her decisions. What was done was done, and she’d have to live with her mistake. In the meantime, she had to help Juliet, but how? Never in her life had Emli thrown as much as a punch; what could she do to help get Juliet away from the fae?
Emli took a deep breath; she could cast Aether, she told herself. She may not have known exactly how she’d done it, but she had, and that would be enough. Emli closed her eyes and recalled that feeling of being dragged along by the river; it pulled her under, crashed her into the banks, but she didn’t fight back. She envisioned Juliet being pulled along by the river and reached out to her.
As Emli opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by tiny wisps of flickering violet wisps of a faint, ghostly light. It wasn’t much, but she prayed it would be enough.
She ran ahead, chasing after Juliet and the childnapper, and as she approached, Emli could hear more skittering all around her. A childnapper lunged from the fog at her, wrapping itself around her legs and biting with its jagged fangs.
Emli screamed, but her voice was eaten by the fog; she struggled to fight off the creature, but its grip was too strong. She’d just wanted to help, and all she’d done was get herself trapped.
Instinctually, she closed her eyes. She recalled that feeling of being pulled helplessly through the river, just as she was now with the fae. She felt the weight of the water crushing down on her, but she didn’t fight back; she allowed it to pull her down deeper and deeper. In the depths of the river, she saw Juliet, struggling to swim but unable to move. Emli reached for her.
The fae let out a pained shriek and released Emli from its grip; once again, wisps of violet Aether swirled around her body. Emli scrambled away, struggling to her feet, and anticipating another attack from the fae, yet nothing came. Another childnapper crawled up to her, but didn’t attack; from above, a dozen of the winged familiars circled around her like vultures, yet none descended.
Emli trembled but realized that as long as she kept herself surrounded by Aether, the fae wouldn’t attack her. Swallowing her fear, she looked around for Juliet, but she was gone, completely lost in the fog. She could hear screams, but they came from all sides; she’d lost her again.
A nightmarish scream–like a knife grinding against stone–rang in the air. It chilled Emli to her core, nearly dropping her to her knees as she felt her legs buckle. It felt like something was pressing down on her shoulders and forcing her to the ground. Emli’s hands shook, and her teeth chattered, but she couldn’t give up. She had a duty to protect Juliet; just as Emecar had done, she promised the Gerhards that she’d keep them safe, and this time she wouldn’t fail.
Emli ran towards the scream, knowing that was where she’d find Juliet. The fae continued chasing her, just waiting for the Aether to weaken, but Emli kept concentrating on that feeling of being pulled along by the river; she tried to envision herself carried through the roiling rapids, yet something was missing.
As the fae got closer, Emli felt her heart race. She closed her eyes and tried again to envision the river exactly as she had before: the water was cold, it thrashed her violently along, she couldn’t breathe, yet nothing seemed to be working. The fae lashed out at her, and that’s when Emli realized what she’d been missing:
To help others when they can’t help themselves.
Just before the childnapper could wrap its leg around her, Aether surged, brighter than it had before. The fog dispersed around her and forced the fae back even further; the lone fae who’d tried to attack her screeched in pain and began writhing on the ground before it eventually laid lifeless on the damp ground.
Emli felt her head spin; she wasn’t sure how to control the amount of Aether she released, and if she wasn’t careful, she could kill herself. Knowing that the fae wouldn’t stay back for long, Emli didn’t waste any time dealing with the rest and ran where she’d heard the shriek from earlier. Her legs tingled and were growing numb; she fell as one of her feet got stuck in the thick, icy mud and twisting her ankle.
She gasped in pain but pressed on. She couldn’t give up; she had to save Juliet.
The fog grew thicker, as if gravity itself was intensifying around her. Emli’s body felt heavier than it had been just moments ago, and she didn’t think it was just because of her exhaustion. The air grew colder, and she saw frost form on her breath. The ground beneath her feet began to crunch like ice, and off in the distance–only a dozen or so paces away–Emli saw Juliet dangling in the air, held firmly in the grip of a massive four-armed fae: the Kintelgas.
Emli knew she couldn’t fight a creature like that, a creature of legend and said to be the most favored servant of the Wytch-Queen, yet she knew she had to try. If she gave up, then she knew she wasn’t fit to be a maiden.
There was another body in its grip, one limp and lifeless: Victor. Emli’s heart sank, and her breathing grew faster and faster; her stomach twisted to where she thought she’d vomit.
No, I made a promise. I won’t give up here!
She stepped forward, ignoring the pain in her ankle and all the sense in her head. She envisioned herself and Juliet flowing through the river, and with every beat of her heart, Emli felt her Aether pulse; her head began to spin, and her vision glossed over. Emli extended her hands, reaching out towards the Kintelgas and whispered a prayer.
“Guide me,” was all she said, and a bright surge of Aether flashed from her hands. It cut through the fog, and for only a second, illuminated the night like a flash of violet lightning. Her Aether flowed like the very water of the river in her mind; the falling rain seemingly merged with it.
It felt as if Emli’s own hands were working to yank Juliet and Victor from the monster’s grip. The ground beneath the Kintelgas’ gnarled feet began to twist and writhe, and the creature began to recoil as if in pain; it was working, she thought! Emli envisioned herself pulling the monster down into the river with her, and somehow, it felt like the frigid rain was helping her.
But then Emli felt a sharp twinge in the back of her head; a grueling pain wracked her body, and she fell to the ground numb. With her face in the mud, she struggled to look up at horrifying silhouette of the Kintelgas still standing as if she’d done nothing.
“OOh, i LIke tHIs One,” one voice said.
“yeS, QuiTe PowERful INdeeD,” said another.
“A goOd cHiLD SHe'd MaKE,” said a third.
The voices seemingly sang together in a haunting harmony, and as they spoke, Emli felt ice run through her veins. She’d failed, and she knew it. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t even breathe.
As the Kintelgas reached down for her with its third arm, tears streamed down Emli’s cheeks, and she whispered for Emecar.
Flashes of red and blue light nearly blinded her. She quickly closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she saw someone–something–fighting against the Kintelgas. It looked like a man, but it fought like a beast backed into a corner; it was faster than anything she’d ever seen, possibly as fast as a crownsguard, she imagined. The beast was splattered in blood, and its body was badly bruised and swollen.
Radiant red and blue Aether surged around the beast’s body as it lashed out with its sword and dagger, and that’s when Emli realized that she wasn’t watching a beast, she was watching Rukifelth.
He fought wildly, cutting deep into the Kintelgas and sending its viscous green blood splattered across the ground. The fae screeched in pain and howled in unison:
“ONe Of hIS tAIntEd kiN!”
“fiLThY, BEaSt!”
“kiLL IT! kiLL iT!”
Emli couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but Rukifelth seemed to be fighting evenly with the Kintelgas.
And then the song began; a terrible melody hummed in the air, and the lesser fae around them grew more and more restless. The air grew colder, and the fog grew thicker. Emli began to shake as if trapped in a winter storm.
More ice formed on the ground behind Rukifelth, and Emli tried to warn him, but the fog ate her words. The ice exploded into several icy shards that tore into Rukifelth. He howled in pain, and in that small opening, the Kintelgas lashed forward—black writhing shadows swirling around its arm—and struck him in the chest.
Rukifelth was sent sprawling back along the slick ground, groaning in agonizing pain. As he struggled back to his feet, a horde of fae descended upon him: clawing, tearing, gnashing. Rukifelth fought as best he could, but he was simply outnumbered, and his Aether grew weaker and weaker.
The Kintelgas turned its attention back to Emli, and she felt all of its dozen eyes glaring into her. It took a step forward but stopped suddenly.
“wE HavE wHat We cAMe fOr,” one voice said.
“BuT wHaT Of tHE oTHer MoRTal,” asked the second.
“yEs, i sTiLL wAnT HiM,” said the third.
“NO, We’Ve ENouGh!”
“buT I waNT hiM!”
“AS Do i!”
“I sAId No!”
While the creature bickered with itself, Emli saw Juliet, crying out for help–tears streaming down her cheeks–as she dangled in the creature’s grip. Emli took one last deep breath and tried to envision the river just once more; weak flecks of Aether began to swirl around her, and she crawled towards the Kintelgas.
Emecar’s eyes shot open. His vision was hazy and bleak, but at least he could again. He struggled to breathe, let alone move. He touched his neck and felt his wound: blood, warm and thick. He groaned, struggling to sit upright. He couldn’t believe his brother ran back into that fog alone.
Surrounded by the Gerhards huddled in their cramped kitchen–windows sealed shut, and chairs in front of the door–Emecar hobbled to his feet. He could hardly stand, and he couldn’t see straight, but he had to keep fighting; Juliet and Emli were still out there, and so was the Kintelgas. Cedric and Louis tried to talk him down and explain that he had no weapon, but Emecar didn’t care. He still had his shield, and after stumbling his way through the kitchen for a moment, he found a long, sharp kitchen knife. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.
“You can’t go out there,” said Louis. “You’ll kill yourself!”
Emecar shook his head; even that much made him dizzy. He pushed past Louis and made his way to the door. He see just how terrified he and his family were; their whole world had fallen apart. For as long as they lived, none of them would ever forget this night.
I refuse to let this go on any longer!
“I’ve still got strength to fight,” Emecar weakly. He tightened the strap of his shield. “I made a promise, and I don’t break them. I’ll fight until those fae are scared off, or I’ll die trying.”
With that, he stormed out of the kitchen. It wasn’t until he stood on the veranda and stared out across the white haze of fog and the downpour of rain that he realized just how foolish he really was: he was almost completely drained of Aether, and he was armed with only a kitchen knife; what did he think he could accomplish?
He grunted, struggling down the steps. Off in the distance, he could see the faintest flashes of red and blue light: Rukifelth was still fighting. Emecar’s breathing grew heavier, but despite his exhaustion and the fear in his heart, he had to push forward and help his brother; he had to make sure Emli and Juliet were safe. It was his duty.
Emecar focused on what little sparks of Aether remained within him. He felt the small flecks of light spark to life, minimally enhancing his strength; as long as blood was still flowing in his veins, he could still fight.
Shield and knife in hand, Emecar ran into the fog. He followed the flashes of light, ignoring the screams and mutterings of the fae trying to distract him and pull him deeper into the fog. He ignored the rain and the crashes of thunder.
As he got closer and the flashes of Aether grew brighter, Emecar saw shapes begin to form; he saw a flash of violet Aether and stopped. Rukifelth couldn’t use the color of abjuration, thought Emecar, but if not him, then who?
Beyond the taunting murmurs of the fae, Emecar could hear the nightmarish laughter of the Kintelgas; the three voices that spoke in unison began jeering and mocking Rukifelth, saying they had what they came for. From the corner of his eye, Emecar spotted several childnappers skittering past him deeper into the fog like he wasn’t even there; they were retreating. His eyes followed them to the shadow of the Kintelgas several dozen paces away. In two of the creature’s hands were the bodies of Juliet and Victor.
Nearby, Emecar saw Rukifelth armed with his sabre and parrying dagger fighting off a horde of fae. Blood dripped down his face and arms, but his eyes were locked on the Kintelgas.
What’s more, he caught sight of Emli nearby; she lay in the ground, struggling to crawl forward towards the monster. He would’ve missed her if it had not been for the weak shine of violet light that swirled around her. At first, Emecar thought the fog was playing tricks on him, but he was certain of what he saw: Emli was casting Aether!
Juliet screamed in horror, pleading for Emli and Rukifelth to save her, meanwhile Victor’s body hanged limp in the fae’s grip. The Kintelgas let out a horrible cackle as the fog began to wrap around it.
He had to do something; if he didn’t act quick, the monsters would return to Helhaym where he couldn’t follow.
Protect the innocent!
What could he do?
Emecar instinctually reached for his pistol, but it wasn’t there; he’d left back in the servant’s cabin. It’d be pointless in the rain anyway.
Protect the innocent!
He stared ahead; he couldn’t reach it in time. He needed to do something, but he had nothing left: no strength, Aether, or weapons. There was nothing he could do.
Protect the innocent!
Emecar closed his eyes. With what little strength he had left, he envisioned the flame on the tips of his fingers, coiling around the knife. He took a deep breath, pulling his Aether to the surface; it flickered like a candle in the storm, but he forced it to stay lit. The smallest wisps of blue Aether swirled around Emecar’s hand; he ran as fast and as hard as his legs could carry.
Protect the innocent!
He pushed harder and harder; his legs burned, his vision blurred, his lungs cried out in anguish, his body wanted to collapse, but he kept running. As the fog nearly enveloped the large fae, Emecar lunged forward and plunged the knife into the legs of the Kintelgas. It howled and tried to kick Emecar aside, but he held on tight.
As long as Emecar kept the beast distracted, he could keep it from retreating back to Helhaym, but what else could he do? He wasn’t sure if he was actually hurting the monster, and neither he nor Rukifelth were in any condition to keep fighting, but he had to try.
Protect the innocent!
He ripped the knife out to stab again, and again, and again until the monster grabbed hold of Emecar’s arm and hurled him to the ground.
Frantically, Emecar tried to stand as the dozen eyes of the Kintelgas fell upon him. He raised his shield, ready to fight, but he had nothing left; the knife in his hand had snapped, his body was numb, and he had no Aether left to spare. The fae swung one of its arms at him, and despite blocking the attack, Emecar felt the immense weight of the impact ripple through his body and send him tumbling back.
“I tOlD yOU he’D cOMe.”
“i nEVeR dOubTed yOU.”
“YeS, yEs, NoW GrAB hiM aND LEt’S bE On ouR wAy!”
As the fae and all its lesser servants gathered around Emecar, a loud howl echoed through the fog, and a bright flash of red Aether shined in Emecar’s eyes. In an instant, the fae that descended upon him were all forced back, and Rukifelth engaged himself with the monster. He heard Rukifelth calling out to him, but his voice sounded muffled and distant.
Protect the innocent!
Meanwhile, a weak wave of violet Aether shot from Emli and wrapped itself around the monstrous fae. Emecar could see the strain in her eyes as she struggled to bind the creature, and though she seemingly did very little to affect the horrid beast, she distracted it just long enough for Rukifelth to leap up and plunge his dagger into the creature’s neck.
The Kintelgas bellowed in pain, and in that moment of opportunity, Emli was able to use her Aether to yank Victor free from the monster’s grip. Regrettably, the monster still held firm to Juliet.
With a mighty swing, the Kintelgas struck Rukifelth and sent him tumbling into the mud. It stumbled back, its dozen hate-filled eyes scoured the field, turning to face Emli. Using what little strength he had left, Emecar hobbled to his feet, shield and shattered knife in hand.
Protect the innocent…
Fog began to wrap itself around the monster as one of the voices scoffed and said, “lEAve ThEm. WE HavE whAT We CAmE foR!”
“buT whAT AbouT—”
“ANoTHer TImE!”
Juliet cried for Emecar and the others, pleading for them to help her, but there was nothing left they could do. He tried to rush forward—to sweep in at the last second and save her—but his legs buckled beneath his body, and he collapsed to cold ground.
The monstrous fae backed away, slinking into the fog along with its horde of lesser minions. Emecar stared up, desperately reaching out for Juliet, praying that something would give him the strength he needed to save her–a blessing from the gods themselves–yet nothing came.
Protect the innocent…
Just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone: the fae, the fog, and Juliet with them.