Chapter 13: chapter 13

As Amelia approached the edge of her village, the sky had already begun to darken. The setting sun dipped behind the jagged peaks of the mountains, casting long shadows that crept like silent specters across the narrow paths. A chill lingered in the air, sharp and biting, signaling the coming of snow.Suddenly, a strange unease settled over her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and an inexplicable heaviness pressed against her chest. It felt like someone—something—was behind her. She stopped in her tracks, her breath shallow, and turned to look over her shoulder.The path stretched empty behind her, cloaked in the dimming light and soft whispers of the wind. She listened closely, straining to hear footsteps, but there was nothing—only the faint rustle of trees swaying in the distance.“It’s just the cold,” she whispered to herself, though the words did little to calm her. Forcing herself to move, she quickened her pace, every crunch of her boots on the snow amplifying the uneasy silence. Yet, the sensation of being watched clung to her like a shadow.By the time Amelia reached her small, stone-walled house, her pulse was racing. The warm glow of lamplight spilling from the windows was the first comfort she’d felt in what seemed like an eternity. She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind her firmly. For a moment, she leaned against it, her eyes closed as she let out a long sigh of relief.“Amelia? Is that you?” Her mother’s voice came from the kitchen, edged with both concern and irritation. “Where have you been? Why are you so late?”Amelia opened her eyes and made her way to the kitchen, where the smell of spices and simmering stew filled the air. Her mother stood by the stove, a wooden spoon in one hand as she stirred a large pot. The faint glow of the fire lit up her face, the lines around her eyes deepened by the flickering light.“I was at Mr. Haraldson’s house, Mama,” Amelia replied, trying to keep her tone even.Her mother turned, brow furrowed. “Mr. Haraldson’s? Whatever for?”Amelia hesitated, the lie forming on her lips before she could think better of it. “No reason in particular. I just felt like visiting them.”Her mother studied her for a long moment, as if trying to decipher the truth hidden beneath her daughter’s words. Finally, she shook her head and turned back to the pot. “You shouldn’t stay out so late. The snow has begun, and you know how treacherous the forest paths can get after dark.”“I know, Mama,” Amelia said softly, stepping beside her to help chop the vegetables laid out on the small wooden table. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the board filled the room, mingling with the bubbling of the stew.Her mother sighed, though she didn’t press further. “Well, wash up. Dinner will be ready soon.”As Amelia set the knife down and turned toward the basin, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Even here, in the warmth and safety of her home, that unseen presence felt near—lingering just outside the window, hidden beneath the growing blanket of snow.From that day on, Amelia couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that she was being watched. It lingered like a shadow at the edge of her mind, constant and oppressive. Whether she was walking through the village streets or sitting by the fire in her home, it was always there—unseen, yet undeniably present. The sensation was worse outdoors, as if invisible footsteps followed her wherever she went, always a few paces behind.Several days later, on a crisp afternoon, Amelia and Lucy strolled alongside the river that flowed gently from the heart of the forest and wound its way into the village. The air carried a faint chill, and the sound of the rippling water mingled with their soft laughter. The sunlight shimmered on the water’s surface, turning it into a ribbon of silver as it meandered around bends and curves.“We’ve come quite far,” Lucy said, her voice carrying a hint of unease as she looked over her shoulder. The trees on either side of the river had grown thicker here, their shadows stretching out like long fingers. “We should head back before it gets dark.”Amelia’s gaze lingered on the forest ahead, where the river curved and disappeared into a dense patch of trees. “Do you know,” Amelia began, her tone casual yet thoughtful, “the coachman who took us to the grand ball that day told me he lived somewhere near this area.”Lucy stopped walking and turned toward her friend with a skeptical look. “Really? The old man said that to you? He lied. I know where he lives—it’s nowhere near here.”Amelia shook her head quickly, her voice soft but insistent. “No, no. Not that coachman. Some other man.” She paused, searching for the right words. “The usual coachman—Mr. Haraldson’s—couldn’t make it that day. So, a young man named Ivar took us instead.”Lucy frowned, her brows knitting together. “Ivar?”Amelia nodded, her eyes distant as she thought back to that evening. “I met him again  few days ago when I was coming back from Mr. Haraldson’s house. Amelia and Lucy stood near the edge of the forest, the shadows of towering trees looming around them. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the narrow path."The coachman told me he lived near the stream where the river bends inside the forest," Amelia said, her voice soft but determined. "Let’s go a little further, Lucy. Maybe there’s a house we missed."Lucy sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "I don’t think anyone lives out here, Amelia. It doesn’t feel right. But fine, let’s see," she conceded reluctantly.The two ventured deeper into the forest, their steps muffled by the carpet of fallen leaves. Birds chirped intermittently, their calls sharp in the quiet that surrounded the girls. Time stretched as they walked, yet there was no sign of habitation—no house, no smoke, no sound of life save the whispering wind.After a while, Lucy stopped abruptly and frowned. "I think that man—Ivar, or whatever his name is—lied to you," she said, irritation lacing her tone.Before Amelia could respond, a low, smooth voice broke the silence behind them. "Looking for me?"Both girls jumped, spinning around in alarm. Standing just a few feet away, partially leaning against a moss-covered tree trunk, was Ivar. He seemed almost a part of the forest itself—his dark cloak blending with the bark, his expression unreadable yet amused.Amelia exhaled, hand on her chest. "Oh, it’s you," she said, narrowing her eyes. "So you really live here?"Ivar pushed off the tree, his movements languid and deliberate. "I told you I do," he replied with a faint smile, his gaze steady on her."But I don’t see any house," Amelia persisted. "Where is it, exactly?""Just a little further in," Ivar said casually, gesturing toward the darker depths of the forest. "But what are you doing wandering around here at this hour? It’s not safe for ladies to be alone."Before Amelia could respond, Lucy stepped forward, her tone sharp. "We weren’t looking for you," she said quickly. "We were just walking. Amelia mentioned you lived here ,that is it.Ivar turned his head slightly, the smile never leaving his lips. "You weren’t looking for me?" he repeated, his tone light yet teasing. "Strange. I could have sworn I heard you talking about me."Amelia’s cheeks flushed, but Lucy was quick to respond. "You must have excellent hearing, then," she said coolly. "But we weren’t talking about you."Ivar chuckled softly, the sound oddly unsettling against the forest’s quiet. "Perhaps," he murmured, as his dark eyes flicked back to Amelia.Amelia shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the dimming light filtering through the trees. "We should head back now," she said, her voice firmer. "It’s getting late."Ivar inclined his head slightly. "As you wish, my lady. Allow me to walk you home. It’s not safe for a lady to wander in these woods after dusk."Lucy stepped between them before Amelia could respond. "No, thank you," she said sharply. "She’s not alone—she has me. You can go back to whatever it is you were doing."For a moment, Ivar said nothing, his gaze drifting past Lucy to settle on Amelia. "My lady," he said softly, his tone almost persuasive, "this forest is not as empty as it seems. There are things here—things that watch, that linger. You may not see them, but you can feel their presence."Amelia’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered the sensation she’d had these past few days, the inexplicable feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes trailing her every move. She looked at Ivar, his face half-shadowed by the trees, his expression sincere yet unreadable."Things?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.Ivar nodded. "I’ve seen them. And I assure you, they are not kind."A chill ran through her. For a brief moment, her instincts told her to refuse, to walk away—but something about Ivar’s calm demeanor, his insistence, made her hesitate. Finally, she nodded. "Okay," she said softly.Ivar’s lips curved into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned his attention to Lucy and, for the briefest of moments, gave her a look—an unnervingly sly smile that made Lucy stiffen."Shall we?" he said lightly.The walk back to the village was quiet. Ivar strode ahead, his steps soundless despite the leaves and twigs underfoot, while Amelia and Lucy followed a few paces behind. Lucy’s usual chatter was absent, replaced by a stony silence. Amelia stole glances at Ivar, noting how he moved so effortlessly, as if the forest itself bent to his will.After a while, Amelia found her voice. "What do you do for a living, Ivar?" she asked, genuinely curious.Ivar turned his head slightly, his expression faintly amused. "I am a watchman of sorts," he said cryptically. "Or a coachman, when the need arises. I run errands for people, here and there."Amelia frowned. "A coachman and a watchman?""People need different things my lady," Ivar replied smoothly, as though that explained everything."And your family?" Amelia pressed. "Do you live alone?" "I have no family," he said quietly. "They died when I was a child."The girls exchanged glances but said nothing further. Soon, they reached the outskirts of the village. The faint glow of lanterns greeted them, a reassuring sign of normalcy."This is far enough," Amelia said, stopping at the edge of the trees. "Thank you for walking us safely, Ivar."Ivar dipped his head slightly, his eyes lingering on her. "The pleasure is mine, my lady."Lucy, who had been walking a step behind, suddenly came to a stop. Her eyes darted to Ivar, and for a moment, she held his gaze. Something in the way he looked at her—mocking, taunting, though veiled with politeness—made her jaw tighten. Without a word, Lucy exhaled sharply and muttered, “I’ll go on ahead.”Amelia glanced at her, surprised. "Lucy—""I’ll see you later" Lucy said quickly, cutting her off. She shot Ivar one last sharp look, as though daring him to say something, before she turned and briskly walked toward her house. Her footsteps echoed against the stillness, fading as she disappeared.Amelia turned back to Ivar, suddenly feeling more aware of his presence now that they were alone. He stood motionless, his dark figure outlined by the soft light of the village behind him.“Well,” Amelia said, her tone softer now, “I suppose I should go, too. Thank you again for walking us safely.” She turned to leave, her steps quickening as she neared her door.Outside, beneath the dimming sky, Ivar turned his gaze away from Amelia’s house and disappeared back into the shadows, as though he’d never been there at all.