The Beast That Bled Gold
He’d never heard the forest this silent.
The Winter Plane was always quiet, muffled by eternal snow and trees as dense as tar, but tonight, even the jays in the canopy fell still. Nothing but the creak of his cart and horse hooves churning sleet, the occasional thump of ice drooping off shiverpine branches, the whisper of aurora overhead.
He felt foolish, when he gripped his reins tighter.
This was the type of night he’d heard of in the old folktales, a silent forest and an unsuspecting human traveler, doomed to spot red eyes among the branches.
News from the territory capital claimed their Lord Daeyari was kinder now, no longer feasting on live sacrifices.
Still, the man sat tense on the cart bench, peering into dark trees.
He found no beasts lurking in the boughs.
Only a woman standing by the road, hunched against the cold in calf-deep snow.
He reined in his horse, pausing his cart alongside her.
“Evening, miss. You alright out here?”
The woman smiled. She was tall, her skin warm brown, features soft around dark eyes. He was surprised when she reached for him, an entreating squeeze at his wrist. Her fingers were warm against the night chill.
“I’m traveling,” she said. “Hoping to rest for the night. Do you live nearby?”
Her words sounded strange. Some accent he couldn’t place.
He shrugged and beckoned to the seat beside him on the cart. It was only him and his sister at the mill. They had a bed to spare, and hospitality went a long way on Winter.
The ride passed in silence. He minded the reins but snuck a glance at his passenger.
She was beautiful.
He chastised the thought, no intentions of ogling a woman stranded in the forest. Maybe peculiar was a safer word to describe her. Black hair fell past her shoulders, laced with snowflakes. Dark lashes veiled over inky eyes. Her jacket seemed too thin for the Winter Plane.
“Do you travel this way often?” she asked.
He chastised himself again, caught staring at her lips. They hardly seemed to match her words. His wrist felt warm where she’d touched him.
“I’m coming back from Runeyska. I sell my furniture at the city market, near the Bridge gate.” He gestured to the cart, two hand-made wooden stools all that remained of his wares. A profitable visit.
The woman appraised his cargo. “Beautiful work. Near the Bridge gate? You sell to merchants from the other Planes?”
“Of course.” He laughed. “Spring, Summer, Autumn. I’ve sold an army of dining chairs across all four Season-Locked Planes.” He’d returned with different treasures, a bundle of Spring Plane tulips and Summer Plane nectarines, rarities in Winter, sure to make his sister smile.
“Any Planes beyond these four?” the woman asked.
An odd question. The four Season-Locked Planes were unusually close together, well-connected for travel and trade. Beyond these Planes, there were hundreds of other worlds—possibly infinite, some people claimed. A vastness that fuzzed his brain to contemplate.
“Other Planes are too far off to bother trading here,” he said.
“And what of the Twilit Plane?”
He laughed again. “Alas, I haven’t sold any chairs to the Twilit Plane.”
“Why not? Surely, your work is fine enough?”
“Void take me. No humans do business with the Twilit Plane.”
The first home of the immortal daeyari, before the beasts had spread their territories across other worlds.
The Twilit Plane lay close to the Season-Locked Planes, he’d heard.
But no one ever said more than that, the route a secret the daeyari kept to themselves.
Better, that way. What human would want to visit a Plane with more of those flesh-eating creatures?
“Hm.” The woman fell silent, a tightness to her mouth.
The lumber mill sat on a riverbank, a rumble of water welcoming him home, timber walls glinting with copper energy conduits that powered the saws. He settled his horse in the stable, then led the way into the house. The woman followed on whisper-quiet footsteps in the snow.
The kitchen was empty but warm, his sister likely asleep already. He removed his coat.
“We have a spare bedroom down that hall. You’re welcome to—”
When he turned, the woman stood inches from his face.
He inhaled at the scrutiny of her topaz eyes, level with his. She cupped his jaw. Her touch was warm like sunlight.
“Thank you,” she purred. “For your generosity.”
“It’s… uh… not a problem… but…”
His words stumbled, cheeks heating as she traced a finger down his throat—pleasant, but confusing. This wasn’t remotely how he’d envisioned his night going.
“I’m happy to share a bed,” he said, rougher. “Lend a bed, rather. You don’t have to… I mean… please don’t feel obligated to…”
She said nothing. Her mouth parted, tongue tracing her lip. He should tell her to stop.
He didn’t want her to stop.
She was beautiful, her dark lashes low over eyes like warm honey. Had he not noticed the color in the dark? His heart thundered as she leaned closer, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.
The woman pressed soft lips against his jaw. Hungrier, down the hollow of his throat. A brush of tongue and teeth at his shoulder.
Then, an explosion of pain that split him down the middle.
The force was paralyzing. Heat ripped through his gut. Shards of glass surged through his arms, his legs, threatening to buckle him at the knees. His vision blurred in a flash of silver. Fingers tightened in his hair.
He screamed.
When he hit the floor, the pain stopped. Exhaustion followed, his chest ice-crusted, muscles shaking like they’d been scraped from the inside out.
He barely had the strength to crawl. Some primal instinct screamed away, away, spurring fingernails to claw against floorboards, coaxing weakened limbs to drag him across the kitchen.
He made it outside. Into the snow. Shivers racked him to the core, bone-deep and insatiable. His shoulder throbbed—burned, though he couldn’t crane his neck to see the wound. His wrist itched. He clawed at his sleeve, fingers raking flesh as he pulled back flannel.
A strange golden symbol marked his skin, hot and glowing.
Smoke itched his nose.
Someone screamed.
He moaned at the effort of shifting onto his knees, vision spotting. Hold on. He clutched the foreign mark on his wrist and willed himself to hold on to consciousness. What was that light in the windows of his home? That crackling sound?
Fire. Flames spread along the porch, up the eaves. Faster than fire should spread.
Another scream.
His sister’s scream sparked a moment of clarity. And panic. His sister was inside. Their home was burning. He needed to get to her.
Every muscle quaked as he pushed to his feet.
Then, every muscle gave out. He collapsed to the snow.
His breaths shallowed. Black bloomed across his vision as he tried to crawl, to drag himself across the snow. He had to get to her. He had to…
A woman stood over him.
She was tall. Dark hair fell past her shoulders, no longer laced with snow, sheened with orange from his burning home. She said nothing. Her expression said nothing, lips drawn to a mild line.
It must have been a trick of the firelight. For a moment, her irises seemed to glow gold.
She reached for him. He screamed again.
But he had no strength left to run.