Chapter 3 #2
“Who doesn’t love an evening of awkward chanting?” I muttered, shooting him a sidelong glance. “Aren’t you here for the entertainment, too?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Something like that. Though the company’s not bad either.”
“You’ve picked the worst spot in the village for that.”
His grin widened. “Then it must be fate that put me here.” I opened my mouth to tease him, but something changed in his expression.
He wore the same crinkled olive tunic and washed-out black trousers laced at the calves, scuffed boots finishing the travel-worn look.
But his usual bright, assessing eyes had gone flat.
“I’ve not seen you since last month’s Firstfire,” I said. “Staying out of trouble?”
Dominik sighed. He was a nuisance even on his best days, always hiding from someone or hiding something from the Cunning Folk.
“You think the rules actually matter?” he asked.
“Well . . . that depends. What rules are we talking about?”
“All of them. The gods, these ceremonies. Even if they’re listening, they’ve made it clear we’re on our own. It seems like all we ever do is worry about existing . . . and disappearing. None of it matters. We all vanish eventually.”
I didn’t know what to say, mostly because I’d thought the same thing. I just didn’t hear many people voice it. Everyone accepted our way of life in the village.
Almost everyone.
As much as some wanted to believe in the magic of a blazing pyre (take my brother for one), Firstfire never stopped the disappearances.
We watched the pyre burn as the crowd swayed around us. It was a strong turnout, perhaps three hundred villagers, some faces I recognised more than others. But they all wore that mask of hope mingled with desperation.
Across the clearing, the Cunning Folk emerged, walking towards the fire in unison, a procession of ten.
The flickering flames lit their gaunt faces and accentuated their hollowed features.
I could pinpoint Mathias easily, from his hunched shoulders and baggy hood.
Then there was Merelda, taller and younger than the rest, a perfect picture of health and cold beauty.
Dominik glanced at me. “You ever wonder if they know more than they’re saying?”
“If they did, they’d take it to their graves.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. Then he said, “It’s funny their numbers don’t dwindle. Maybe I should have asked to join them a long time ago.”
Dominik wasn’t wrong. Fate seemed to favour them. The Cunning Folk often reminded us that thanks to their blessed souls, the gods chose to spare them. So, they led the ceremonies and encouraged the chants, charms, and offerings.
“We’ve all just accepted this,” he continued. “The disappearances, the ceremonies. Like it’s all normal.”
“But it does give them something to focus on,” I countered.
We’d lived with these strange disappearances for a long, long time and never did a thing except hold these damn ceremonies.
Maybe someone had tried to fix it before and failed, deciding the only option was to give hope, even if it made no difference.
Dominik straightened beside me. “It’s all a lie.”
“Whatever it is, there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s the way things are here.”
The night reached its blackest hour, and the Cunning Folk grabbed the offerings, several pairs of withered hands shaking, and threw them into the fire.
I buried my frustration and held off the desire to roll my eyes as the offerings turned to ash.
Foraging in the wilderness was hard. Harder still was watching these fools throw excellent food away.
A loud, hostile yell caught my attention, and I stared across the clearing to where Tobias stood in the centre of a rowdy group.
“Gods,” I groaned. “You’ve got to be—”
“Come now, Barnard,” my brother clamoured, jabbing a finger towards the large man. “What’s the use of all your whiskey if you don’t share it?”
Hulking and broad-shouldered, Barnard stiffened. A few of the villagers laughed nervously beside them.
“I gave my barrel as an offering to the gods.” Barnard’s voice boomed over the clearing.
“You must have more,” Tobias declared, his voice permeating over the crackling pyre.
“There are no more barrels.”
“I don’t believe it,” Tobias burst out. “Why would you throw your last one away?”
“We must give what we can, so that the gods will protect us.”
Tobias staggered a step closer.
He’d clearly taken something. Maybe mushroom powder. I didn’t know how the idiot got a hold of half the stuff he did. My brother had a way of getting what he wanted. And whatever he’d taken offered a quick high and made a fool even bolder.
“Tell me you feel safe in these woods, Barnard?” He enunciated every syllable. “Go on. Tell me!”
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. Conversations paused. Heads turned. Dominik cleared his throat beside me, but he was wise to keep his mouth shut.
Some of the villagers knew Tobias had bad days.
This is what I have to deal with, people.
The Cunning Folk exchanged glances, silent, watchful. I spotted Mathias near the pyre, a stone’s throw from Tobias. He remained still, though I caught the faintest flicker of interest in his gaze.
I should have pulled Tobias back, dragged him from the centre of the tempest he was conjuring. But Mathias’s words returned to me: Let him sink.
Barnard towered over my brother, and the crowd moved away to give them space.
Tobias needed a bucket of icy water dumped on his head.
“If you think Firstfire is a farce,” Barnard bellowed. “Then you’d be better off in Undercity.”
Tobias cackled. “Maybe I’d last longer there because these rituals might actually draw in wicked fates. Have you ever thought about that?”
The villagers stirred uneasily. Sparks spiralled upward from the pyre, catching in the night like startled fireflies. I stood on the edge of it all, fists clenched.
Step in and spare him.
But . . . if I let this play out, he’ll finally learn to stand on his own two feet.
Barnard raised a fist and for a heartbeat I waited, breath held, to see if he’d strike. My brother swayed, defiance still burning in his eyes despite whatever was flowing through his veins.
“Dominik,” a female voice cut in. “It’s time.”
I turned to find Merelda standing nearby, heavy robes shrouding her figure.
Something unreadable flickered in Dominik’s gaze.
The Cunning Folk rarely called on us, so this was unusual. I wanted to ask him what Merelda wanted when Dominik’s hand brushed against mine, a brief, fleeting touch.
“Got to go,” he said. “Goodbye, Nina.”
“It would be nice to see you before the next Firstfire,” I called after him as he slipped away.
I turned my attention back towards the drama.
Barnard was no longer in the clearing, but Tobias remained yelling curses at no one in particular.
The pyre sizzled and bathed the crowd in a molten light. The mist receded, the night sky became clear, and the stars glittered. I wondered if the gods were finally here, watching and listening to prayers, or if they were just as useless as ever.
Then, the fire crackled louder and with a violent snap, the pyre’s base gave way.
Not with the slump of burning wood but a shattering collapse that sent flames sprawling outward.
Screams erupted from the crowd as people stumbled back from the wildfire, which behaved less like a flame and more like fury let loose.
My eyes widened as the blaze reached for me.
But running away wasn’t an option – I had Tobias to protect. His friends had vanished, probably thinking only of saving themselves. My brother was all alone, surrounded by a circle of flame.
Fear flooded my veins, and fight-or-flight took over. For Tobias, I needed to find courage.
Wasting no time, I lunged across the clearing towards him.
“Nina,” he cried, his voice frantic as he struggled through the blaze. He cleared the circle, flames biting at his ankles, and sprinted towards the tree line, but his foot caught on a bulging root. Tobias yelped, tumbled forward, and hit the ground with a thud.
I grabbed his arm and hauled him up with a strength I didn’t know I had.
I glanced around the clearing, looking for an exit, but the fire had already consumed everything.
It was moving too fast, spreading unnaturally.
Through the flames and towards the woods, I spotted a swirling mass of smoke.
Golden eyes were staring at me from the darkness.
I couldn’t distinguish the creature’s form, just two vibrant globes.
Then they disappeared as quickly as they’d come.
Where the smoke had swirled a moment before, I saw a narrow path leading out of the clearing.
It was our way out.
“Run,” I yelled, gripping Tobias’s hand as we sprinted to the path, heat chasing us, snapping at our heels.
Pain flared where metal bit into skin, but my fear was stronger.
Through the gloom, I noticed the narrow wooden bridge that spanned the steep banks of the stream.
“Tobias, go,” I shouted, pushing him forward as we reached it.
He hesitated, glancing back at me. “What about you?”
“Just go. I’m right behind you.”
He paused before dashing across, his footsteps echoing against the planks. Up ahead, the fog sat a little thicker. I squinted . . . and saw we were entering the forbidden zone near the wetlands.
“Wait! We can’t go this way,” I cried. “There might be something worse waiting for us out there.”
Visions of the red-eyed beast appeared in my mind.
I hesitated a moment longer before I stepped across the bridge, but a crackling hiss sounded behind me as the fire surged closer, as though it had set its sights on me.
Flames closed around my ankles, shooting up my legs like greedy fingers.
The fire swept crimson and orange around me, blocking my escape.
The fire only climbed higher, devouring me inch by inch – my skin, life, and soul.
I gasped, only to choke on the smoke and fumes.
I was lost in a world of blinding light and blistering heat, a prisoner to the agony.
My arms flailed, my hair alight, and I clawed at the flames to stop, to end the suffering—
And then . . . nothing.
The fire had vanished.
One moment, flames consumed me, burning my insides and melting my skin.
Then, the world shifted, and I was standing on solid ground.
I looked down at my hands, half-expecting blisters and burns, but my skin was smooth and pristine.
I pressed my hands to my arms and legs and felt no sting or pain.
But I remembered . . . I’d paused on the bridge, and the fire had swallowed me. And my brother . . .
He had disappeared.
My eyes darted around in a panicked frenzy. My brother, the woods, the bridge – they were all gone.
All signs told me the reality . . . I had vanished.
I could smell something rancid. I could taste it, a sort of blood-drenched, decaying matter. The metallic gas filled my nose with an overwhelming stench that made me want to gag.
Where in the Mother’s milk and marrow am I?
I glanced down, and dread settled over me. Cracks snaked through the earth, and wisps of smoke slithered upwards. The charred soil reminded me of the remains of a fire. I stepped back, my foot catching on the rocky ground, and nearly stumbled into one of the cracks.
A hum vibrated through me like a shockwave. It thrummed in my ears and chest, travelling down my body to my toes. I scanned the sky, hoping to find some sign of where I was.
But the sky was wrong.
Thunderous, swirling clouds hung overhead, and a red and ashen grey strip marred the skyline.
I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as a chill crept over me. It wasn’t cold, far from it. It was boiling. My instincts screamed at me to run, to leave this place, but where would I go?
I had been in the woods, and then I was here. Wherever here was.
I stumbled forward, my breath coming in short, terrified bursts as I tried to get my bearings.
There was no hope on the horizon, only rocky, barren land as far as the eye could see.
Behind me were mountains jutting out from the ground.
I spun around and around, looking for a path, anything to save me from this place, but there was nowhere I could go.
I crumpled to the ground, my skirt tucked under me, letting hopelessness settle in my stomach.
Nothing about this place was right. It was empty – except for me.
Or so I thought.
A rush of air twisted around me, carrying the smell of charred wood and sweet cherries. It coated my tongue, almost comforting against the metallic tang that lingered, until a smooth voice broke the spell.
“Welcome, little Champion.” The voice purred with amusement. “You’re just in time.”