Chapter 1 #4
We rely on him to cut wood and hunt for food, which contributes to his muscular body and strong arms. He ensures we are safe, warm, and well-fed.
I make sure we have clean clothes and a bed to sleep in.
All of this means I have some dependency on him.
I have to keep my thoughts at bay until we finally arrive somewhere where we will stay for a while, a place where I am no longer dependent on his support for my own survival.
Mother is always looking for directions, trying to determine which areas and towns are still safe—or safe for us—and deciding where we will head each time.
However, I have never understood her definition of secure.
Every place we stay is crowded with nocturnal creatures that walk in broad daylight due to their magic.
Others will only come about once the shadows and night have settled in.
During the day, we only see these demons, and the moment other humans arrive, Mother will eye them up and instantly decide that we have to pack our stuff and get moving, as if our own kind is dangerous.
It is odd, but neither of us ever truly questions her motives, aside from my occasional curiosity.
Despite her strange choices, she knows best, and besides that, we have no other option than to tag along.
We just go, much like our sudden departure today.
In that sense, she still holds some of my trust.
Mother mumbles something about a city called Valorya, a city where we might be able to stay for a while—a place where we could settle.
“Isn’t Valorya above The Wailing Forest, Mother? Up North?” I ask, frowning.
We have never dared cross the forest and have only roamed the Southern towns and smaller cities until now. It piques my curiosity instantly, especially as even the supernatural beings avoid that forest. There’s something not right with it, corrupt even.
“Hmm, yes, darling, yes, it is.”
Her mumbling is an apparent indication that she is somewhere else in her mind, but I’m not willing to let it go so easily.
“Isn’t everything there mostly vampire-infested, Mother? I mean, aren’t the cities there inhabited by vampires, like, only them? Since it’s… vampire territory?” I furrow my brow at her.
Why does she want us to move there? At least the towns here are a mixture of creatures and occasional humans; above the forest, it is mainly dominated by vampires.
No human being in their right mind would go there willingly, magic or not.
All we will find are slaves. How are we supposed to settle if there are no free humans?
“Yes, love, yes, it is,” she confirms with a finality in her voice as she continues to pack our stuff.
Then she turns around and leaves me alone with my unanswered questions, a custom I am having difficulty getting used to.
“Great,” I murmur.
Who doesn’t want to give themselves up for bait?
Have themselves sucked dry without standing a chance?
There will be no single human being out there for us to meet.
My enthusiasm fades after she speaks the words.
Once more, a life of solitude awaits us, and I resent her for it.
I am not made to wander this life alone; I long for companionship.
None of the dark beings ever comes near us.
They will snarl and hiss at us, but always move around us as if we are poisonous.
As if touching us by accident will kill them.
Mother ignores them and acts as if the creatures do not circle us like vultures, looking for weak spots to exploit.
Fynn also appears unbothered, as he will often leave by himself to hunt or do whatever he does.
He always returns unscathed, sometimes trailed by one or two of the demons.
I rarely dare to leave by myself, and I run the moment I see one of them, often resulting in a chase, one I always win.
Not because I am faster, but because, they give up when they realize I will not be their dinner, because they can’t even bite me.
I’ve only spoken to some of them a few times, when they appeared less intimidating. Whenever Mother sees me willingly interacting with one of them, she rushes to send them elsewhere, anywhere but near me.
Something about them intrigues me, and that scares the living shit out of me.
I wish I were more daring, giving in to my buried adventurous nature.
A nature of my own, one Mother scolds me for often, out of protectiveness, warning me that if I ever give into it, a path of trouble will unfold for me—a path of hurt.
So, I keep to myself, mostly, entombing that part of me, until I am allowed to let it out and thrive.
As I stand by the door with my duffle bag filled, I hear Mother and Fynn talking in hushed voices.
She’s hurrying him as well, eager to get on the road.
She wants to leave. Now. I should have known we would be on the move the moment a large group of humans appeared out of nowhere and decided to stay here, despite the fact that they know they will be eaten alive.
Their group is shrinking by the day without any form of protection, and their feeble offerings are not doing a thing.
I plead with Mother, asking if they are the reason for our leaving.
Asking her if we can just wait it out. None of them will remain within a few weeks, leaving only corpses behind, but she won’t listen, saying we don’t have the luxury of waiting a few weeks.
It makes me want to scream at her. To demand the truth from her.
Yet I never do, wouldn’t dare to yell at my mother, so I sulk in silence.
The sacrificed girl is no longer among the living; her ruined body hangs limp against the tree, slices of flesh cover her purple bruises.
No more fresh blood trails from her cold corpse as her feet sway in a pool of her own red bodily fluids.
Red flowers, fresh and dried, surround her.
Roses, carnations, peonies, lilies, and others I do not recognize.
Between the flowers are baskets filled with crushed raspberries and blackberries.
Broken pomegranates and blood oranges. They are all a symbolic representation of what the girl has given to the old Gods.
Blood. As if that makes us better than the night creatures, when they, too, survive on blood.
I had always wondered where they got their hands on those products, until one time, Mother brought Fynn and me with her to a small market organized by humans.
Little stalls with fresh fruits and flowers neatly organized into those you’d eat and those you’d buy for the offerings.
I begged Mother to buy me some of the offering fruits.
She did, and I ate them all at home. It was the first time I wondered if that is how blood tastes: sweet, with a hint of sour.
Mother and Fynn stand beside me when a large black crow lands on the dead girl's shoulder and starts picking at her eyeball, which begins to leak. There are others, feasting on her blood and the fruits, cawing in delight. The crows and ravens are never out of food, brazenly taking the offerings meant for the old Gods—a sight I’m accustomed to, too.
“Let's get going,” Mother sighs as she stares at the corpse hanging from the tree.
“Barbaric,” Fynn whispers, shaking his head.
We all start to move, leaving the town and its inhabitants behind, all destined to die themselves eventually. Perhaps as a sacrifice, she got the better deal in leaving this cruel world.
DIARY ENTRY:
I'm unsure if it’s how I truly feel, but I think I might love him. I love him with all my heart. I hope. My belly is so big now that I can barely walk. Keir helps me with everything. I need him. I can’t do this alone. I hate you for doing this to me.