Valeria took advantage of her mother's slumber to retrieve the hidden doll from her satchel. Her mother disapproved of her collection of rag companions, often admonishing her.
Thou art nearly a woman; thou shouldst behave as such.
That was what Madam Augur customarily told her daughter. In contrast, her father held a very different view.
To him, the notion that Valeria would ever truly become a woman was a distant prospectâand if possible, he would delay that future for as long as he could. Mr. Augur had developed the habit of purchasing a doll for Valeria at every new locale he visited on his trading routes. Admittedly, none of these dolls were of fine quality; he was far too modest a man to distinguish between cheap toys and the luxurious playthings that the daughters of the Magnatari flaunted throughout the empire. Yet each doll was unique, imbued with its own personalityâor so he claimed. And Valeria loved them all.
At the final stop of his journey, it was no different. Upon entering the territory of the province of Rajmir, he presented Valeria with a doll from Velcarniaâa city on the border with Elisian lands. This gift stood out among the other rag dolls for its blue hair, typical of Rajmirian maidens.
While Valeria played with her new companion, she could not help but listen to the conversation between her father and the man seated beside him at the front of the cart. The man had introduced himself as Saganu, a thaumaturge.
"...It is good to know that the Confraternity cares for the small fiefs beyond Elisian borders,"
commented Mr. Augur.
Saganu let out a short but courteous laugh.
"In the past, perhaps that might have been so, my good man,"
he replied carefully.
"Today, what drives my peers is politics, money, and control."
"These are common motivators among the elites of this world, are they not?"
replied the merchant with a wry smile.
"As for me, politics troubles me only when it draws too near home. Money, however... it is the instrument I use to provide a comfortable life for my familyâthe finest remedy for the troubles I know."
"The best tool for solving problems is a mind well-trained and armed with knowledge,"
corrected the thaumaturge.
"And what of magic?"
"Magic, in the hands of an unprepared mind, can become dangerous. Like money, it may foster the illusion of superiority."
Mr. Augur then burst into hearty laughter.
"Regarding money, I must agree. But as for magic... How many of you thaumaturges are out there?"
"We are currently one hundred and one members in the Confraternity. Yet we know not how many sortilégies exist beyond the empireâin Tirnogue, still unconquered, in Helleim, or even across the seas."
"Sortilégies?"
"That is what we call those endowed with magical aptitude who do not belong to the Confraternity. But why ask?"
"Well, one hundred and one... out of however many millions live in the empire these daysâis quite a select group, don't you think? Especially with the power to create such miraculous things. It appears they were handpicked by the Celestial. Quite apt to foster an air of superiority, isn't it?"
Saganu smiled, a trace of irony upon his lips.
"Indeed, my good merchant, I believe you are in the wrong trade. You ought to run for the post of spokesperson for the Confraternity. I am certain my peers would love to hear speeches like yours."
The merchant burst into hearty laughter once more, clearly enjoying the exchange.
"Well, putting philosophies aside, if the Confraternity cares not for this fief, then what truly brings you here?"
the merchant inquired, his curiosity plain.
"I am here of my own accord. I have grown weary of following the Confraternity's agenda in Elisian lands. I long to do something realâsomething useful with the knowledge I possess. So I chanced upon a letter from the nobles of Lesgrad pleading for aid... and I departed without leaving word."
Saganu paused, hesitating briefly before adding,
"It is also the case that I have not been getting along well with my fellow members of the Confraternity lately."
Mr. Augur smiled at the confession, recognizing the frankness of the man beside him. Inside the carriage, Lady Augur had awakened from her brief nap and caught her daughter at play. Valeria was making the doll pretend to play an imaginary lute. Her mother cast her a look of reproach.
"Forgive me, Mother,"
Valeria said.
"Then... What is the name of this one?"
her mother inquired.
"Ninka,"
replied Valeria, relieved to perceive that her mother did not seem inclined to launch into a lengthy sermon this time.
"Like that minstrel we heard at the border?"
her mother pressed.
"Skazina,"
answered Valeria.
"How so?"
asked her mother.
"Here, they call the wandering musicians 'skazi' or 'skazina',"
explained Valeria.
"Interesting,"
remarked Madam Augur, though what truly captivated her was her daughter's interest in the local culture. After a brief pause, she added,
"The blue hair of the Rajmirian folk is so beautiful, don't you agree?"
"Yes!"
Valeria replied, her tone animated.
"Perhaps, now that we shall be settling here in Rajmir, we might arrange for you to marry a handsome young man with blue hair. What say you?"
Madam Augur inquired with a teasing lilt.
Valeria regarded the doll in her lap as her cheeks flushed, but she could not help but offer a small, shy smile.
The tender moment, however, was abruptly interrupted when she lifted her gaze upon the sudden halt of the carriage. Madam Augur turned her head toward the noise, straining to discern what was unfolding, as the horses' neighs grew restless and desperate.
Valeria, curious and anxious, peered through the small window beside her. There, she saw flashes of blue light dancing along the road, reflecting off the trees and mingling with the dust. Before she could fathom its meaning, a violent impact struck the opposite side of the carriage, overturning the vehicle completely. Valeria was hurled against the wooden structure, which now lay askew upon the ground. The world spun around her, her vision reduced to fragmented shards of blue light and darkness.
"Valeria, are you all right, dear?"
Madam Augur asked, her voice trembling with concern.
The woman's trembling hand reached for the girl, her fingers fluttering in a futile attempt to push the terror away. With great effort, she attempted to right herself, seeking support among the broken timbers and scattered seats. Her breathing was heavy, and every movement seemed to demand more than she could muster. Beside her, Valeria remained upside down, her wide eyes fixed on her mother, fear etched onto her youthful face.
The sound of splintering wood then shattered the tense silence, as the right side of the carriage burst open with a thunderous crash. Through the gaping fissures, the head of an equine emerged. This was no mere steedâit was a beast forged from shadow, its mane replaced by flickering blue flames that danced where hair should have been. The beast neighed hystericallyâa sound that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of the ruined vehicle.
Despair overwhelmed both mother and daughter as the creature, in a ferocious motion, clamped onto Madam Augur's purple hair and dragged her away into the night, widening a gash in the wood with its supernatural strength. Valeria screamed until she lost her breath, but there was no one left to hear her.
That was the last time she saw her mother.
Tears fell as if they could repel the danger around her and bring her mother back. Her weeping subsided only when something moved in the crack of the carriage, and, seized by panic, she began to scream again. But this time, what appeared was the man known as the thaumaturge.
"Come, girl, we must leave this place,"
Saganu said, extending his hand.
Confused and terrified, Valeria took several seconds to comprehend his words before finally grasping the offered hand. He helped her to her feet, and together they exited through the opening.
Outside, Valeria clung to the thaumaturge, her eyes scanning the darkness of the pine forest that bordered the road. The sight of that deep gloom made her heart race, but what truly shattered her was passing by the carriage where her father used to sitâonly to find a trail of blood fading into the woods.
There was no time for mourning. Her suspicions about the danger lurking in the darkness were confirmed when indistinct forms began to emerge. At first, they were merely shadows, as if sculpted from the night itself, but soon their details became discernible. They were equine monsters, tall and imposing, their black coats absorbing every ray of light. Incandescent red eyes glowed like live embers, carrying a malevolence that seemed to pierce the frigid forest air.
Blue flames danced along their manes, cascading in furious torrents down their necks, alive with a will of its own. With each step, the hoovesâalso enshrouded in fireâetched scorching marks upon the ground. The road, once dark and unremarkable, now shimmered in a ghostly hue under the blue-tinged blaze. Their hot breath emerged as vaporous clouds, starkly contrasting with the biting cold of the night, while the surrounding air rippled with an unnatural heat, distorting the very fabric of reality.
When the creatures began their relentless advance, Saganu raised a peculiar objectâthe crowning achievement of his career as a thaumaturge.
At first glance, it appeared merely as an ornamental lantern, devoid of flame or any visible fuel. Yet, as the umbral beasts drew nearer, the artifact began to reveal its true nature. Initially, it emitted only a tentative glow, pulsing with restrained brilliance, but soon its intensity grew steadily. The radiance, though soft, seemed to contain something far greaterâa force that defied the encroaching darkness.
The creatures hesitated, their sinister eyes fixed on the source of that disconcerting light, as if repelled by its very presence. Then, in an instant, the lantern burst into brilliant lightâas if the very sun had been captured within it. The light did not merely illuminate the darkness; it shattered it, flooding every shadowed nook with relentless radiance. The creatures, caught unawares, recoiled with agonized neighs as their dark forms contorted in pain. Each beam that grazed their obsidian skin acted like a razor, slicing, burning, and repelling them.
The monsters' cries echoed through the forestâa visceral, primal sound rising from the depths of a long-forgotten nightmare. They tried to press forward against the light, but the light intensified, driving them back. One by one, they began to dissolve, their forms dispersing like mist in the wind, fleeing from that punishing light that delivered unbearable pain. When the last shadow finally vanished, the lantern's brilliance waned; its once radiant glow softened and then faded away entirely.
A profound silence settled over the forest, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of small creatures' footsteps. Valeria lowered the arm she had raised to shield her eyes and, with a voice filled with hope, inquired,
"Are they gone?"
"For now,"
Saganu replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"We must hurry and find shelter in Lesgrad."
He paused, his gaze hardening.
"If only they had not possessed our horses with their dreadful forms... I fear we shall have to march on foot."
Valeria turned to look toward the carriage where her father used to drive. A whirlwind of memories overwhelmed her. She recalled all the times she had traveled by his sideâsitting, leaning against his shoulders, or resting her head on his lapâas she dreamed of the next doll he would bring her.
And the most vivid image that emerged in her mind was that of his silly, contagious smile when he saw her delighted with her gifts. Tears streamed down her face, warm and uncontrollable, each drop carrying a fragment of her shattered heart. But with the tears came a growing sense of weakness. Her legs buckled, and before she could react, the world around her started to darken.
Her heart pounded as if trying to escape her chest until, finally, her vision went black.
Fragments of images and sounds flooded her mind in a chaotic, endless whirl.
âââ
A sweet, strong scent anchored itself in her senses like a beacon in a storm. Soon after, an image emerged: two large purple eyes blinking at some distance. As the darkness receded from the edges, the image grew clearer.
It was a boy, his bright blue hair marking his Rajmirian heritage. He held a small vial close to her nose as he regarded her with an almost childlike curiosity.
"W-What... who are you? Where did I...?"
stammered Valeria, her voice weak and hesitant.
The boy smiled proudly.
"I am Andrej Ivanove of Lesgrad, and you are in my castle. Do not worry; you are under the protection of the Ivanoves. The forest spirit shall not harm you here."
Valeria did not grasp everything immediatelyâthe boy's accent was strong, and his romancis carried a somewhat formal air. Yet his easy smile conveyed a strange comfort. Before she could muster a reply, the boy exclaimed excitedly,
"Apostle Venceslave! She's awakened!"
Moments later, a man entered the chamber. He wore a blue cassock with golden trim; a pendant shaped like an Aliscael hung from his neck. Though young, his serene countenance and shaved head lent him an air of maturity. He carried a tray of fresh fruits.
"You may now remove the scent vial from near her nose, young Ivanove,"
said the apostle in a calm tone.
"Please, inform your father that the maiden is conscious."
"Very well!"
replied Andrej, hurrying out of the room.
The apostle then approached Valeria and seated himself beside her.
"How are you, young lady?"
he inquired, his voice imbued with a comforting tranquility.
"What happened? How... how did I come to be here?"
Valeria asked, her tone trembling with uncertainty.
"You've faintedâmost likely from the shock of what has occurred. Master Saganu brought you here; this is the castle of the Ivanove family."
"I..."
"Are you in pain in your chest? Do you have any difficulty breathing?"
"Not... not at all."
"Excellent. Then it was merely emotional shock."
Valeria's gaze fell, lost in emptiness.
The Apostle immediately noticed and remained silent for several moments, watching her with gentle kindness until her eyes slowly lifted, unable to avert themselves from his warm look.
"You must eat,"
he said softly, placing a tray of fresh fruits on her lap.
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"Please try these wild strawberries. They are rare at this time of year, yet their flavor is unparalleled."
"I'm not hungry,"
Valeria replied, her voice barely audible.
"I know that, at this moment, the world seems a strange and daunting placeâone in which all meaning appears to have vanished. I also understand that your sorrow is deep, yet your body still needs strength. If you cannot eat for yourself, then eat for those who care for you, for they would love to see you hale and vigorous."
The Apostle's words broke through the fragile barrier that Valeria had maintained. Silent tears fell, mingling with the pears, apples, and strawberries. With a steady yet tender hand, the Apostle rested one arm on her shoulder and offered her a handkerchief with the other.
"From what I have heard, your parents were good people,"
he continued, his tone gentle and soothing, as if to calm the very air around them.
"Do not grieve for them, for now they embrace the Celestial, and the Celestial embraces them in return. And you, in turn, must ensure that when they behold their beloved daughter at Novam Domum, in the company of the Alfar, they feel nothing but pride."
Valeria wiped her tears with her handkerchief and, slowly, picked up one of the wild strawberries. She ate it in small, almost delicate bites, as if savoring a nut like a squirrel.
"I told you they were good, didn't I?"
joked the Apostle, attempting to lighten the mood. Valeria returned with a sad yet sincere smile, offered freely. The Apostle responded with a broad, relaxed and exaggerated smileâa gesture so unexpected from a man of the cloth that it drew a low, almost involuntary chuckle from her.
When young Ivanove returned, he came accompanied by two men. Saganu, adorned in the characteristic white mantle of his order, appeared immaculate, as if the battle they had faced hours before had left no mark upon his garments.
In contrast, Lubos Ivanove, despite his noble bearing, presented himself in a simple manner. He wore a basic tunicâthough made of fine fabricsâhis hair and beard kept short, a departure from the customary style among the Rajmirians, and his face bore a constant expression of cunning.
"How is the girl faring now, Apostle?"
asked Lubos, as though Valeria were not present.
"Physically, she needs only nourishment and rest. Emotionally, however, time will be crucial,"
replied Venceslave calmly.
"She will have all the time you need to mourn, but unfortunately, that cannot begin now."
"What do you mean?"
inquired the Apostle, frowning.
"We shall depart in a few hours to deal with the Umbral entity, and Valeria must accompany us,"
declared Saganu, preempting Lubos.
Valeria paused her meal, holding a piece of fruit aloft.
"For what purpose?"
Venceslave insisted.
"You see, she may help us locate the creature,"
Saganu affirmed.
"And how exactly would she do that?"
retorted the Apostle, his gaze fixed intently on the thaumaturge. Saganu paused thoughtfully before replying, choosing his words carefully.
"Well... allow me to explain in terms that everyone can understand."
"This world is enveloped by what we call the etherâan essence that establishes the very laws of reality."
"However, the ether can sometimes become sensitive to intense human emotions and profound symbolism, which may distort those very rules."
"In the case of young Valeria, the attack that befell her and her parents forged a connection between the pain and trauma they experienced and the distorted ether surrounding the Umbral entity."
"I'm not sure I fully understand. How do you intend to use the girl's emotions to locate this creature?"
questioned Venceslave, his tone even more cautious.
"I plan to induce her to sleep. In that dream stateâjust as happened with the entity's previous victimsâshe will be able to reach the place where the creature hides. And we shall follow her there,"
Saganu explained, as if outlining a logical and inevitable plan.
"I don't think this is safe for the girl,"
the Apostle replied, narrowing his eyes.
"Be honestâare there risks for her? Could this affect her negatively?"
"You are a very skeptical man, Apostle,"
observed Saganu, his tone lightly annoyed.
"As every man of faith should be, don't you agree, Master Saganu?"
replied Lubos, his gaze piercing.
"This may be somewhat controversial, my lord,"
said the thaumaturge, hesitating.
"But his line of questioning is perfectly understandable."
"I appreciate your understanding, dear master thaumaturge,"
Venceslave replied, unable to mask a hint of condescension.
"Now, what of my question?"
Saganu took a deep breath before answering.
"Physically, she will be safe, as long as we protect her from any potential attacks by the entityâwhich we will. The problem is that, while in a sleepwalking state, she will likely experience nightmares involving the entity and the trauma she endured."
At that moment, Valeria, who had been silent until then, gripped the Apostle's arm, anguish evident in her eyes.
"The girl has just endured a terrible ordeal, and you intend to throw her into a magical nightmare so she can relive it?"
Venceslave demanded, his voice heavy with indignation.
"Calm yourself, Apostle,"
Lord Lubos interjected firmly.
"None of us are pleased with this situation. But that thing in the forest will not stop of its own accord. The girl's parents were not its first victims, and if we do nothing, they will not be its last."
"I understand, Lord Lubos. Still, perhaps we should consider other solutions,"
Venceslave insisted, reluctant.
"With all due respect, Apostle, no one understands the supernatural better than the thaumaturges, and Lord Saganu here is an expert even among his peers,"
Lubos replied with conviction.
"If he says this is the best course of action, I am inclined to trust his judgment."
"But the girlâ"
Venceslave began to argue.
"The girl will help honor the memory of her parents while, at the same time, saving Lesgrad from this evil," Lubos cut him off, unwavering.
"In return, she will earn the gratitude of house Ivanove and secure a place among us."
âââ
It was already midday when Valeria crossed the gates of Ivanove Castle, heading toward the cursed forest. By her side walked Saganu Initatus, the Elisian thaumaturge, accompanied by ten of the Ivanove men-at-arms, including the captain of the guardâa man who bore the title of "Sir," an uncommon distinction in a small Rajmirian fief.
The knightly class was not native to Rajmir, but rather a tradition imported from Avaloniaâa city-state bordering both Rajmir and Tirnogue. In the old days, Avalonia waged constant wars against both nations over possession of the Rod Tree, also known as Evahnkir or Amaranthâa colossal oak revered as a deity by their peoples. That conflict came to an end for Rajmir only when the regionânow an Elisian provinceâadopted the Apostolic faith.
"So, what exactly are we up against?"
asked Sir Bosko, his voice deep and steady.
"We are most likely dealing with what we call a Strigoi Leshy or Vampir Leshy,"
Saganu replied.
"That doesn't tell me much."
"You've heard of Leshy before, haven't you? Creatures that resemble trees and judge travelers in the forests based on their character."
"Yes, but that doesn't sound anything like the spirit."
"True. This one has its peculiarities,"
Saganu said, a slight smile crossing his lips.
"Originally, it was a tree, grown from a seed of the Rod Tree, carried across Novam Domum by birdsâusually a phoenix."
"A phoenix?"
"Indeed. Here, you call it Rarog."
"Firebirds?"
"They're not exactly that, but yes, those are the ones I'm referring to."
Saganu continued as if explaining something perfectly ordinary.
"However, this Leshy was corrupted by the blood of a victimâor victimsâof some past tragedy that took place nearby. Now, its very existence is tied to the powerful emotions lingering in the blood that tainted it. And it grows stronger by consuming the blood of others."
"That's..."
"Bizarre? Tragic?"
"Both,"
Sir Bosko replied gravely.
"But what about the story of the flaming horses? Weren't they the ones that attacked you and the girl?"
"Ah, yes. The Nightmares."
"Nightmares?"
"Yes, that's what we call them. They go by other names as well. If you look closely, they're actually mares."
"...Right. But what do they have to do with all this?"
"These creatures feed on fear, despair, and, most of all, people's nightmaresâhence the name. They often form symbiotic relationships with other umbral entities that provoke such emotions. That is likely what's happening here."
"I suppose misfortune never comes alone,"
Sir Bosko muttered, his usual stoicism laced with dark humor.
"So, if we destroy one, the others will vanish?"
"If the Leshy is destroyed, the Nightmares will disappear as wellâat least until another surge of fear and despair summons them back."
"And how do we do that? Is it as simple as cutting down the tree?"
"It won't be possible to destroy it now,"
Saganu answered, already anticipating the outrage.
"Then what are we doing here?"
Bosko narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping into his voice.
"To permanently eliminate the Leshy, we would first need to uncover its original victimâthe spirit that corrupted the tree. After that, an emotional connection with the victim would have to be established. The most directâand dangerousâmethod would be allowing the Leshy to feed on human blood, creating a bond with the victim's spirit. Then, we would have to persuade that spirit to rebel against the parasite."
"That doesn't sound sensible at all. But my question remainsâwhat exactly does the master thaumaturge intend to do with our help?"
"We will seal the entity. We'll prevent it from significantly influencing its surroundings. That way, this fief will be free from its threat while we gain time to find a permanent solution."
They crossed the village toward the forest, drawing the stares of every peasant they passed. However, only one person had the courageâor lack of senseâto approach them: Miroslava.
"How are you, Sir?"
"Exactly the way you see, good woman."
The old woman let out a raspy laugh.
"If I know you well, Sir, you only use that kind of rudeness when something is weighing on your mind. What's troubling you? Where is everyone going?"
"We are following Lord Lubos's orders, Miroslava. That's all you need to know."
"And what about this fine young lady? Is she also under Lord Ivanove's orders? Or was she sent by the emperor?"
Miroslava asked with a mocking smirk, eyeing the Elisian girl.
"Yes, ma'am. The emperor sent me to confiscate the village's undergarments. Best cooperate and start undressing."
Valeria's tone was commanding, but her smirk was unmistakably ironic. The entire group burst into laughter, even Sir Bosko, though he kept his usual austere expression, hoping to brush Miroslava off without revealing too much. Valeria knew that joke wellâshe had heard her father tell it countless times while traveling through Rajmir. Whenever people asked about his business, Rajmirians often invoked the emperor, and her father's response had become a familiar one.
"I like her,"
Miroslava said, still chuckling.
"Can I keep her?"
Upon reaching the edge of the Temni Vozda forest, Saganu cast a solemn look at Valeria and asked,
"Are you ready?"
"No."
Her response was hesitant as she stepped closer to the thaumaturge. Saganu reached into his satchel and retrieved a delicate silver chain, a greenish crystal dangling at its end.
"Take a deep breath... follow the crystal's movement,"
he murmured, his voice calm and steady.
"Relax... let your thoughts dissolve."
With a serene, hypnotic tone, Saganu held the pendulum before her. Valeria fixed her gaze on the crystal, tracking its gentle sway. With each swing, the object seemed to emit an ethereal glow, drawing her in completely. Her breathing slowed, falling in sync with the pendulum's rhythm.
"Your eyes are getting heavy... heavier..."
The crystal pulsed in harmony with its motion, alive with a will of its own, guiding Valeria into a state of deep relaxation.
"When I count to three, you will find yourself in the deepest recesses of your mind,"
Saganu instructed, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"And then, you will follow that which took from you the most important people in your life."
Her shoulders slackened, and her gaze turned vacant, distant. When the thaumaturge reached three, the forest was gone. She stood once more beside the shattered carriage. There was the carriage, toppled on its side. The roof lay shattered where Lady Augur had been violently taken away by the creature.
A tightness clenched at Valeria's chest as she fought the impulse to look at the seat where her father had been. But before her mind could succumb, something pulled her focus awayâa thin thread of green light. It shimmered, stretching toward the forest. A strange compulsion surged through her legs, an irresistible pull, as the light called to her. She did not resist. After all, the forest no longer seemed as terrifying as the dark memories trapped within that carriage.
Valeria followed the greenish trail as it snaked between the trees, her heart pounding. Her steps sank into the soft, damp earth, while the glow ahead seemed to guide her deeper into the unknown. The stillness of the forest was broken only by the soft crunch of fallen branches beneath her feet. With every turnâwhere the trunk of a tree revealed yet another stretch of darknessâthe tension in the woods seemed to grow.
The shadows cast by the towering canopy twisted into the shapes of black mares, yet Valeria did not waver. Driven by something deeper than reason, she pressed on, chasing the luminous thread as if her instinct alone knew the way. And so she walked, for what felt like an eternity, until an unexpected heat bloomed across her shoulders.
The sensation was oppressive, a stark contrast to the cold that clung to the rest of her body. A voice echoed in the distanceâfaint at first, but growing clearer as she advanced.
"Valeria! Wake up!"
The familiarity of that voice sent a jolt through her chest.
She blinked, and suddenly, the green trail vanished, replaced by the figure of the thaumaturge. He stood before her, his face lined with concern. His white robes were torn in several places, revealing scars and dried bloodstains whose source was unclear. The heat intensified, forcing her to look around. Only then did she realize she was surrounded by a circle of flamesâwalls of fire rising high enough to cut off any escape, yet distant enough that the heat did not scorch her directly.
"Listen to me!"
Saganu's voice was firm.
"Do not move! Stay inside the fire circle until I tell you otherwise!"
Disoriented, Valeria struggled to make sense of what was happening. Where were the Ivanoves' men-at-arms? Why was she alone with the thaumaturge? Saganu stepped closer, gently cupping her face with his gloved hands, forcing her to focus on him. The touch felt strange. It wasn't just the heat from the surrounding fireâit was something else. An energy that coursed through her skin. The black gloves he wore had an unusual texture, almost unnatural, in stark contrast to his bloodstained white robe.
"Valeria, did you hear me?"
he repeated, his voice firm but tinged with urgency.
"Stay inside the fire circle and do not step out until I tell you the danger has passed!"
She gave a quick nod, still unable to find her voice.
"Good."
Saganu pulled away, reaching into his satchel. From it, he retrieved a peculiar objectâan ornate censer. Part of it was made of glass, revealing a dense, waxen substanceâresembling rendered fatâsloshing inside. The base of the censer was engraved with meticulously carved runes. Clearly, thaumaturgy had been woven into its design.
With a decisive motion, as if parting a veil, Saganu opened a gap in the fire circle. Stepping through, he sealed the breach behind him with the same precision, leaving no opening behind. In a swift sprint, he made his way toward the entrance of a caveâbut was abruptly intercepted.
A gray mass surged from between the trees, slamming into him with brutal force. The impact sent him crashing to the ground. Jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth clamped down on his thigh, the beast wrenching its head in savage motions, tearing deeper into the wound with cruel efficiency.
A beowulf.
The most feared predator in Rajmir. Agile, resilient, and monstrously strong, it was a creature that could threaten even a group of seasoned warriors. Normally, these predators avoided direct confrontations with humansâunless provoked or deprived of their natural prey.
But the beast attacking Saganu wasn't acting out of hunger or instinct. There was something unnatural in its cruelty, a sinister will imposed by a umbral creature's influence. The pain was unbearable. Every bite, every vicious tear, sent agony deep into his bones. The beowulf thrashed him like a weightless rag doll, its erratic movements making it impossible to counter.
And yetâ
The sheer will to survive is a force of its own. Somehow, Saganu managed to twist his body, his hands locking around the creature's head even as its jaws clamped down on him. The runes engraved into his gloves flared to life. A searing heat erupted from his palmsâfirst scorching the beast's fur, then sinking into flesh and bone. It released Saganu with a pained, guttural sound and bolted into the trees, its body lurching erratically, betraying its agony.
Saganu let out a cryâa raw mixture of pain and frustration. Shaking, he tore a strip from his robe and hastily tied it around his thigh, attempting a tourniquet. But the wound was too deep. Blood pulsed through the fabric, impossible to stop. And looking at the damage was nearly as harrowing as feeling it. With a weary gesture, he dispelled the circle of fire around Valeria. The girl stood frozen, her gaze fixed and her expression terrifiedâlike a boulder teetering on the edge of a cliff.
"Valeria, come here and help me lean against that tree,"
he commanded. She did not respond immediately; the shock had rendered her motionless.
"Valeria!"
he shouted, his voice growing urgent.
"We have no time! Come here at once!"
The call snapped her back to reality. In a sudden panic, she ran to him, struggling to pull him by the shoulders. The movement was clumsy. Saganu, bracing with his hands, dragged himself forward while the girl struggled to help. At last, they reached a sturdy tree capable of supporting his exhausted frame. Saganu hurriedly rummaged through his bag, his frustrated expression betraying his predicament.
"Damn Amadeo!"
he muttered through clenched teeth.
"If that stingy cur had given me more penacea..."
With care, he removed his gloves and stowed them back in his bag, glancing around with an expression that mixed pain and determination.
"There it is,"
he said, nodding toward something in the distance.
"Valeria, please, fetch that object and bring it to me."
She glanced about, trying to discern what Saganu had indicated.
The censerâwith its elegant finishâlay only three paces away, likely toppled during the attack by the Beowulf.
"Here it is,"
said Valeria, handing him the object.
"Very well. Now take it to the entrance of that cavern. Find a stable spotâperhaps a flat stoneâand set it there. Then recite: 'Captiva supernaturalem.'"
Valeria hesitated, her eyes drifting toward the injured leg of the thaumaturge. Blood still trickled, soaking the makeshift cloth he had employed to stem the bleeding.
"Valeria, look to me!"
he called urgently.
"Yes!"
she replied, startled.
"Did you understand what I have just said?"
he inquired.
"I did,"
she answered.
"And what is it that you are to say?"
he pressed.
"Captiva supernaturalem,"
she repeated.
She knew those wordsâthey belonged to the old Elisian tongue.
"Very well."
Following the instructions, the girl carried the censer to a flat stone at the cavern's mouth and, with a trembling voice, pronounced the magical words. Instantly, the runes engraved on the object began to emit a soft, almost melancholy glow, and the censer sprang to life. A dense white smoke began to issue forth, forming a curtain that completely sealed the entrance of the cavern. Startled, Valeria took a few steps back, wary of the smoke.
"There is no need to fear,"
Saganu said, his voice weak, barely audible.
"The smoke does not harm people. Come closer. I must speak with you."
She approached cautiously, still uneasy.
"You... you will be all right, won't you? You have powers,"
Valeria asked, her voice heavy with anxiety. Saganu let out a faint chuckle, but there was sorrow in it.
"None that can aid me now."
"Butâ"
she hesitated.
"Listen carefully,"
he interrupted, summoning his remaining strength.
"The creature is containedâfor now. As long as the censer has fuel, it will remain sealed. But this will not last forever..."
He clutched a stone in his left hand, as if trying to transfer his pain and fear into the cold, unyielding surfaceâor perhaps seeking comfort in something solid.
"In time, its rage will grow, and the seal will weaken. You must warn the Ivanoves. They need to contact the Confraternity. Until another thaumaturge arrives to deal with this, someone must come here every week to refill the censer with animal fat and..."
He stopped suddenly. A shadow of intense anxiety and despair crossed his face. Valeria, frightened, tried to understand what was happeningâbut then, she saw. Her heart clenched as Saganu struggled to breathe, his chest heaving in agony, gasping for air. That moment was burned into her memoryâthe last breath Saganu took, the light fading from his eyes, and the silence that followed.
She sat on the cold ground, her body heavy with exhaustion and sorrow, and wept. She wept until there were no more tears left to shed.
âââ
When she finally rose, she turned away from the cave. But before leaving, her gaze fell upon Saganu's worn satchelâthe one he had always carried. On impulse, she took it. She walked for hours through the cold forest, trying to keep a straight path, betting on the idea that they had come from the opposite direction of the cave.
The first sign that she was heading the right way was the body of one of the Ivanoves' men, lying among the dry leaves. The poor fellow had a funny smileâhis half-broken tooth only added to the effect. And yet, he smiled. Fully aware of his awkward appearance, Bogdan had offered that smile to Valeria when he saw her sad, just before they left the castle, already intending to make her laugh. One of the other men, noticing the scene, remarked:
"Are you trying to scare the girl, Bogdan?"
The men chuckled, and even Valeria couldn't suppress a brief smile. But now, what stood out most about him was no longer his peculiar grinâit was the gaping wound in his throat, marked by the unmistakable imprint of the beowulf's jaws.
A little farther ahead, the body of one of the beasts lay on the ground, pierced by spears and stabbed multiple times. Beyond that, more fallen men, likely victims of the same creatureâor perhaps another, which had also met its end.
Valeria couldn't bear the sight. She began to run, her feet stumbling over fallen leaves as the forest's chill seemed to deepen around her. Less than an hour later, she passed the last pine tree and found herself before the vast farmland. As she crossed the village, many took notice. The peasants, returning home after a long day's labor, cast curious glances her way. Those who had seen her leave with the escort wondered what had happened. Those who didn't recognize her questioned what an Elisian girl was doing in Lesgrad.
Either way, Valeria became the center of attentionâbut she paid them no mind. When she reached the castle, she did not announce her presence. She stopped in front of the drawbridge, her gaze vacant, her expression heavy with physical and emotional exhaustion. The guards saw her and immediately sent someone to alert the Ivanoves.
The first to find her was young Andrej, approaching with quick steps and an excitement that starkly contrasted with her state.
"Did you succeed?"
he asked, his voice full of anticipation.
Valeria remained silent.
"Sir Bõsko told us what happened,"
Andrej continued, trying to ease the tension.
"His leg bone was sticking out, but Apostle Venceslave said he'll be able to set it. He'll be fine, thanks to the thaumaturge's magic."
He watched her, trying to catch her gaze, but Valeria avoided his eyes.
"And the thaumaturge? Where is he?"
"He's dead."
Valeria's voice was sharp, the words leaving her lips like blades tearing through her throat. The young lord fell silent for a moment, processing the news.
"He was a good man. A good thaumaturge."
Andrej's tone seemed to mimic what he imagined his father might say in a moment like this.
Valeria lifted her gaze, catching the sorrow in his expression. For a moment, their eyes met, and a flush crept up her cheeks at the intensity of his stare.
"And the spirit? Was it defeated?"
Andrej asked after a pause.
Valeria considered her answer before speaking.
"Yes."
"Then I suppose I'm standing before a heroine of the people!"
he said with a smile, his voice light, attempting to lift her spirits. She blushed again but said nothing.
"Come. This castle is your home now, if you want it to be."
His gesture was warm as he invited her inside.