I spend an hour searching the tavern and I come up with nothing. Wherever the truth lies, it’s definitely not here. I push out into the brisk winter night.

The answer has to be somewhere.

I scour the village, nothing much to be seen. It isn’t that large, which makes the amount of vampires in the area odd to me. The only thing that stands out is the boy. He walks the solar path. Their way is uncommon in these lands. 

Their order fought vampires. 

Not just vampires, but any force of evil. My recollection of their history is sparse, but they were important in the Old war. The Solar Monks were most notable for delivering the final blow to demon king Lucifer’s forces.

The witch will know..

The idea of hearing the old woman prattle for hours vexes me. For now, searching here is the best option.

Something catches my eye, a simple home. The door is kicked in and a shattered marble statue is spread across the yard. Its form still recognizable. A man wearing monastic garb holding something— he was holding something. I study the base of the statue.. Text is inscribed in a language I don’t understand. 

I pull out my journal and jot it down.

Dies adveniet quando illa devorabitur a nocte. Tene firmiter viam, et gratia illius in te perdurabit.

 I continue further inside. The destruction is far worse in here. to my right is a kitchen. Pots, knives, and ladles litter the room.  

They were searching for something.

 I move to the back of the home. . Waist high shelves are knocked over and scrolls lie in a heap on the floor. 

 A small spot on the wall shimmers. The moment I focus on it, the spot snaps back to normal. My hand instinctively goes for my weapon. 

Something is off.

Surely the trespassers before me would have saw this too. Why does it look untouched. There are many possible answers to that. Some of which could prove dangerous. A trap meant to thwart intruders? 

I reach for a scroll and toss it at the wall. Nothing.

Dammit, Only one option left.

With a deep breath I calm my nerves and raise my left hand to the spot. It’s properties change as I approach. Whatever it is, emits a hum when my hand comes near it. 

This is reckless.

My hand connects and the humming stops. A warm presence floods my body. From the tips of my fingers all the way down to my toes. I feel comfort. I revel in it but— the moment is cut short.

In my hand materializes an ornate looking scroll. Golden accents wrap around a pristine stationary. I try to open it, but it’s sealed shut. Even more confusing than it materializing, is the fact no one found it before me. Maybe that’s the point, someone left it here for the right person to find. 

I need more clues. 

Easier said than done, this house is a mess. I pick through tangled scrolls, all of them in that same strange language. The witch would ask a high price for all the info I’ll need.

Maybe the boy would know.

The witch would take a high price.

A bone-chilling bark pierces my ear drums.  The stench of a wet corpse, stuffed in a barrel with rotten beef. The smell is unforgettable.

Hellhounds.

There’s no time, I have to make do with what I’ve got. If they discover me I lose the element of surprise. I need to leave. There’s no back door, I need to go out the front. 

I thought we lost them in the port city months ago.

The barking grows louder and the smell stronger. It must be closing in on the house. I draw my sword and a deep breath, readying myself to fight.

Again, the stranger shimmer occurs. This time on the floor a few feet in front of me. Without a second thought I place my foot on the spot.

“What the hell—” I am weightless, and my arms flail by instinct. The walls of the room fly up and away from me. No…. I’m falling downward. 

The way down is a short fall, thankfully. I’m standing in a dark cellar underneath the floorboards. What is that shimmering, is it helping me? 

Even under the floorboards I can tell that I narrowly made my escape. The smell is overpowering down here. I do all I can not to vomit. I have to keep quiet and perfectly still. The barking from ealier is no more. I hear only the sound of the beast growling and its feet pushing against the floor.

The Damn mutt will sniff me out in no time.

Sure enough the hound stops in its tracks directly above me. I hear it sniffing the board directly above my head. I have to make a move now. 

With both hands I grip the hilt of my sword and thrust upward. It easily plunges through the floor into the beast. With a surprised whimper and a thump, the beast is dead before it knows what hit it. 

I can’t rest now, it’s only a matter of time before the hound master revives it. I need to put an end to the man now. He’s too troublesome. 

I yank the sword down. The runes dimly glow against the darkness of the cellar. It sings to me, letting me know it enjoyed its meal. 

When the witch hexed it she called it Blood-Eater. A very fitting name, the cost of its destructive power is keeping it well fed. Lucky for it I’m never short on enemies.

“Okay strange spirit— or whatever has been guiding me.” I sheathe my sword and draw the scroll from my pouch.

“Show me the way out of here.”

It glows brightly illuminating the room. I see a small wooden ladder leading to a delpedated hatch in the ceiling. The way out. Boots stomp around the house above me. 

“What the hell, how did he manage this?”

The Hound master is already here. Damn it.

I bite my lip, he sounds like he’s still near the entrance of the home. I’m unable to pull off the same trick unless he haphazardly enters the room. He’s stupid, but not that stupid.

“I know you’re here Halfblood!” He screams.

“How dare you hurt my beloved Fenrir—” He stutters. “ —Once he resurrects, we will sniff you out in no time.” He starts to laugh. It sounds animalistic, like the sound of a coyote, mimicking human laughter.  

Fuck, the hatch and fuck running, I’ll fight him here and now.

As if responding to my desire the scroll hums and the spot above me shimmers again. 

This is reckless, but what else can I do?

///

Marcus

I wake up to the smell of strong citrus and cinnamon.  Whatever it is I’m laying on feels like it’s made of clouds. Am In the afterlife? Father always said there isn’t such a thing, but I have no other explanation for it. My eyes flutter open. Silver Lights dance on the ceiling. They take the shape of ribbons that shine like a full moon. 

I try to move and to my surprise its easier than it should be. I turn my head over to see something right out of a story the village elder would tell the children. A beautiful woman whose skin is pale. She looks delicate, more like a doll than a person. Her flowing silver hair is tied back in a bun with wisps of it dangling from each side of her head.

She’s leaning over a cauldron, dropping strange roots into it. She stirs the pot and whispers in an incomprehensible language. Without meeting my gaze she speaks.

“The youth doth stir.”

“Where am I?” I ask.

“Thou art in a sanctuary, that thou mayst recover.” I wince as she reaches into the pot with her bare hand. She is unharmed. She draws another silver ribbon directly from the pot and weaves it through the air.

I stare unable to think of more to say, her magic is graceful.

“What is thy name?” Her question starles me out of my trance.

“Marcus— my name is Marcus.”

Her icy blue eyes turn and study me for a moment. “Thou cometh nere to death. Thou art reckless.”

I blink, her words made no sense to me. “I don’t understand you very well miss—”

“Apologies, does this work better for you? I am aware my native way of speaking can be vexing to some.”

I nod.

“So be it, I was saying that you nearly died in your previous battle. It was quite reckless.” 

She’s right, I still feel the cracks in my ki, from pushing myself too hard. While her magic made me feel better physically, I will need a few days to cycle and repair the damage to my core.

“I needed to do it for my—” My heart skips a beat. “— my sister, is she alright?’

“That depeneds on your meaning, but yes she is still alive. She is in another tent resting.” She averts her gaze. “This matter is complicated, she may not have much time left.

“What do you mean?” I respond.

“Are you ready for that answer, and for the choice that follows?” 

“I’m ready, just tell me what’s going on.”  

She sighs. “Very well, your sister may live, but she may end up changing—- changing into a creature of the night.”

Her words confirm a deep dark fear that I did my best to ignore during the fight in the tavern. I push myself up out of my bed. “Where is she?” I grunt.

“Be careful you aren’t—” 

“Where is she?” I interrupt.

“The tent across from this one.” 

I stand up and rush out of the tent into the cold winter night. I see the tiefling sitting next to the campfire prodding it with a stick. She sees me and flashes a warm grin. “Well you recovered quick.” She stands up.

“Where is my sister?” I ask before she can say anything else.

Her smile fades. “Your sister is well— well shes—”

“I already know, but I need to see her for myself.” 

“Right this way then.” She turns and opens the flap gto an other smaller tent than the one I woke up in. 

My hands begin to sweat and my heart feels like its going to jump out of my throat. I inch my way closer to the tent. I’m a nervous wreck , but I fight against the urge to run back into my own tent.

Gloria please be okay.

I push my way into the tent. It’s worse than I could have imagined. Her arms are covered with bruises. Her skin is pale and sickly. Its obvious she’s lost a lot of blood.

I run and fall to her bedside, tears streaming from my eyes. “No, please…” My voice breaks as I force out the words. “Why did this happen to you? Why did you try to protect me?” I sink further to the floor. “Why wasn’t it me?” 

I’m practically screaming now. My sister is the only family I have left and I couldn’t protect her. I was supposed to protect her.   I grip my stomach, it started to cramp from all the screaming. “It should have been me.”I mutter.

The tent flap rustles behind me and a warm, but rough hand pats my head. “Take as long as you need.” It is the tiefling woman. “Once you’re ready you can come grab a bite to eat, the stew should be ready now.”

My stomach aches as a reminder of the fact I haven’t eaten a decent meal in a few days. “I could use a bite to eat, but—” I hesitate not wanting to leave my sister’s bedside.

She places a hand on my shoulder. “I bet you’re famished, come eat.” 

Her warmth makes the request hard to ignore. “Alright, I’ll come eat.”

She smiles and opens the tent flaps for me, beckoning me to sit at the campfire. I follow and the savory smell of a beef stew emanates from the pot. My mouth waters from anticipation. 

Two logs sit on opposing ends of the fire pit, the tiefling sits down on the one furthest from me. I take a seat on the remaining log and stare into the sputtering coals warming the stew.

“Oh, I’m being rude! My name is Sarelle, what’s your name?”

“Marcus— my name is Marcus.” 

She flashes a warm smile as she ladles the stew into a wooden bowl. “Marcus is a good name. It suits you!” 

She passes the bowl along with a spoon to me. 

“Thank you for the meal Sarelle, I think you have a good name too.” I reply.

“I may not be the best stew you’ve ever had, but It its the spot.”

I lift the spoon to my mouth and sip the broth.  My mouth fills with the hardy flavor of a gamey meat, its flavor mingles with the onions to bring a nostalgic feeling to the surface. It tastes just like father used to make. 

She giggles as I scarf down the stew without a word. “Glad you like it!” 

“It’s amazing!” I exclaim between spoonfuls of the heavenly broth.

“My father used to make something like this after we came back from hunting—” 

She flashes a look of concern as she notices another tear rolling down my cheek. I’m so selfish, I shouldn’t be like this when she is sharing her meal with me.

“That’s a sweet memory, I bet he made the best stew!” She ladles more of the soup into my bowl.

“You should have some more. John doesn’t really appreciate my cooking.” She puts on a mock serious expression. “Too much time wasted, when we could eat dried meat rations.” She spoke in a playfully familiar tone to the swordsman from the tavern. 

“Is John the swordsman who saved me in the tavern?”

She cracks a smile. “Yes he is, was my impression spot on or what?” We share a chuckle over her antics, indulging in the stew. 

“I am really grateful for his arrival. Where is he now?” 

The question paints a worried expression on her face. “That’s been bothering me for a while. He’s been gone for a few hours, he should have returned by now.” She stands up and walks over to a bed roll. 

“Marcus, the dinner has been lovely, but I need to go check on him.”

My stomach churns with anxiety. “Let me come with you!”

“No, the witch said you need to rest.” 

I stand up, accidently dropping my bowl on the ground. “What if you need help, I can’t sit around wait—”

“No.” Her tone is stern leaving no room for debate. She leans over to pick up her axes, the weapons rumble and smolder like the embers of a roaring fire.

She turns to leave, but pauses before she sets off. 

“Marcus there is something I haven’t told you.” She grimaces “You need to rest in the witch’s tent tonight, and promise me you won’t enter your sister’s tent while I’m gone.”

“I can’t leave her alone, what if she wakes up—”

“Promise me.”

The realization strikes me, a sharp pain radiates through my chest. “Tell me why.” I struggle through short painful breaths.

She lets the silence hang between us before answering.

“There is a possibility, when she wakes up—”

“That she won’t be my sister.” My fist clenches. “She might turn.”

“It’s not the only possibility, but yes.” She takes a sliver knife out of her pouch, scabbard and all. “The witch said you can’t use your techniques, so I think you should have this.”

I catch the knife and tremble at the thought of using it.

“Just in case there are more enemies around and you have to defend yourself.” That is a lie, and we both knew it. She wants me to use it in case I need to protect myself from my sister. 

“I understand, and I promise to stay in the other tent.”

Her expression softens again in relief. “Thank you, I promise we’ll be back before you know it.”

She walks over and mounts her horse, I watch as the horse gallops down the dark lonely road. I grip the knife and look at my sister’s tent one last time. Goodnight Gloria.