A few months before.

  The door slammed with a violence that seemed to shatter the very air. The echo, like a shockwave, reverberated through the dark walls before dissolving into the icy stillness of the room. Soren, slumped in a worn leather armchair, seemed sculpted from shadow, frozen in a posture where despair vied with exhaustion. Between his fingers, a trembling candle cast fleeting shadows on the walls, as if trying to animate a room drained of life.

  Kendrys entered with determined steps, though every movement betrayed an electric tension, a restrained energy on the verge of erupting. Her boots struck the stone floor, shattering the grim harmony of silence. Her eyes, gradually piercing the darkness, fell upon Soren. His face bore the ravages of sleepless nights.

  He raised his head with a slowness that seemed to defy time. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, low, rising like a whisper:

  — "It’s late, Kendrys."

  These seemingly simple words shattered a dam within her. An ardent, irrepressible anger surged in her chest.

  — "This marriage, I won’t accept it," she snapped, her voice vibrant and sharp like a blade.

  Fire ignited within her. An unbearable heat burst from her palms, and flames erupted, tearing through the darkness. Their dancing light transformed the room, revealing every crack in the walls and every imperfection in the objects.

  Soren remained impassive. Slowly, he set down the candlestick he was holding on a desk cluttered with annotated manuscripts and books. The candle, strangely, shifted in hue, changing from mauve to a spectral green, as if reacting to the blaze that had awakened in the room. He finally stood, his movements imbued with an almost ritualistic gravity.

  — "This alliance is essential, Kendrys," he declared, his voice cold and unyielding. "Our survival depends on it."

  The flames around her flared, licking the air with restrained fury. The heat became unbearable, crushing, making the atmosphere heavy and suffocating.

  — "I’m not a pawn on your chessboard," she retorted.

  Soren fixed her with a glacial stare, locking eyes with her.

  — "If you don’t control yourself, this power will destroy you," he said calmly.

  Those words struck Kendrys brutally. She inhaled deeply, battling the fire consuming her body and mind. Her eyelids closed, and slowly, very slowly, the flames subsided. Silence returned, but it was no longer the same.

  Soren averted his gaze, his eyes settling on the candle that continued to flicker. The shifting light danced.

  — "This marriage is necessary, Kendrys," he repeated.

  She faltered under the weight of his words, as if struck by an invisible blow. Her gaze turned away, unable to meet Soren’s any longer. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper:

  — "Soren..."

  But he did not reply. His silence was not a refusal; it was an impenetrable wall. Kendrys felt tears welling in her eyes, burning like embers, but she refused to let them fall. She turned on her heel, leaving the room with a final slam of the door.

  Soren remained alone, frozen in a near-cadaverous stillness.

  Kendrys dashed through the castle’s deserted corridors, her footsteps echoing like drums on the icy stone tiles. Each echo seemed to amplify the turmoil within her, her heart pounding in rhythm with a simmering anger and an urgent need to flee. The nocturnal air, sharp and biting, seeped through the narrow windows, curling around her like a hostile embrace.

  Outside, the black night extended its veil, rendering the world intangible. The shadows didn’t merely dance around Kendrys; they twisted and stretched, forming fleeting silhouettes that seemed to watch her every move. The garden sprawled before her, a labyrinth of branches and foliage.

  She finally reached a dense bush, a thick vegetative wall that, at a glance, seemed impenetrable. But Kendrys plunged into it without hesitation. The branches parted at her passage as if recognizing her authority, revealing a clearing that seemed almost unreal.

  Bathed in the silvery light of a veiled moon, the clearing had an almost dreamlike quality. The ground wasn’t just carpeted with flowers; their petals seemed to pulse gently, emitting a fragile glow, as if they were breathing in harmony with the nocturnal breeze. The place exuded such profound tranquility that it became a sanctuary, far from intrigues, far from the invisible chains that imprisoned Kendrys.

  At the center, Marte lay among the flowers. His reclining figure didn’t just harmonize with the scene; he was part of it, like a painting suspended outside time. His eyes were closed, and the silvery light brushed against his face.

  Kendrys stopped in her tracks, her breathing gradually calming, as though the clearing absorbed her agitation. Her fists, still clenched, slowly loosened.

  — "Are you asleep?" she whispered.

  Marte slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids seeming to struggle against an invisible weight. His dark gaze settled on Kendrys with a disarming intensity, burdened by a sadness so profound it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. A soft sigh, heavy with meaning, escaped his lips.

  — "I’m sorry, Kendrys," he finally said.

  — "It’s not your fault," she replied, shaking her head. Yet her voice carried a note of bitterness, a pain she couldn’t suppress.

  Marte turned his gaze away, letting his eyes wander over the silvery reflections of the moon dancing on the flower petals.

  — "This situation doesn’t please Soren either," he murmured.

  — "He doesn’t care at all!" Kendrys burst out, her voice shattering the clearing’s tranquility like a blade slicing water. A simmering anger rose within her, burning, and her entire body vibrated under its intensity.

  — "He keeps talking about power games, as if nothing else matters!"

  Marte observed her for a moment, silent, his features etched with gravity. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

  — "He didn’t choose to become the head of the bloodline."

  At those words, something shifted around them. Thorny vines gently emerged from the ground, curling toward Kendrys’ hand. Their spines brushed against her skin without harming her, like a timid caress.

  — "They feel your distress," Marte murmured, his eyes fixed on the plants.

  Kendrys closed her eyes, surrendering for a moment to the strange embrace. The vines seemed to whisper promises of calm—promises she knew were illusory but desperately wanted to believe, if only for a moment. Then she reopened her eyes, the harsh reality settling over her like a cold blade.

  — "Who am I supposed to marry?" she asked, her voice broken, trembling.

  Marte turned his head slightly, as if seeking refuge in the shadows of the clearing. His lips parted, but no sound came immediately.

  — "You don’t know?" he finally murmured, his tone laced with painful hesitation.

  Kendrys slowly shook her head, but her breathing quickened. A deep fear crept into her, tightening her throat like an icy grip.

  — "The Haunted Count of the Black Thorn family," he revealed at last.

  The silence that followed was crushing. Kendrys froze, Marte’s words reverberating in her mind like an endless echo. Her fingers trembled slightly, and she lowered her eyes to the still vines.

  — "Have you met him?" she asked.

  Marte nodded, his gaze drifting into a shadowed place where memories replayed. His jaw tensed slightly, a sign of a strain he was trying to conceal.

  — "Only once," he murmured after a long pause. "And it left a deeper impression than I ever expected."

  He took a deep breath, his hands nervously fidgeting with the petals of a nearby flower.

  — "He’s… massive. Far taller than I am. His black hair cascades down, but not like ours. It seems to absorb light, as if rejecting any warmth."

  He hesitated, searching for the right words, then continued in a lower, almost fearful tone:

  — "But his eyes… Steel gray, sharp, inhuman. When he looked at me, it was as if my mind became an open book, every thought laid bare."

  A shiver ran through Marte, and he briefly averted his eyes before continuing hesitantly:

  — "His skin is… strange. Pale, almost translucent. Not like a human face, but as if it has forgotten what it means to be alive. A whiteness so unsettling it feels as though he has never known sunlight or warmth."

  He stopped, his fingers tightening around the stem of a flower.

  — "What struck me the most is that he seems outside of time. His face bears neither youth nor age. He could be twenty-five or fifty."

  His words hung in the air for a moment.

  Kendrys felt a coldness take hold of her—not like a chilling wind, but as if her very blood refused to flow. The image of the count imposed itself in her mind, so vivid that she could have sworn he stood before her. This figure of shadow and ice already haunted her.

  — "I feel… alone," she murmured unconsciously.

  Marte, ever watchful, tried to dispel the oppressive tension with a faint smile.

  — "My plants didn’t sense him the way you or I did. They seemed… drawn to him," he said. "They clustered around him, as if they recognized him in a way I don’t understand."

  These words, instead of calming her, deepened her unease. The thought that he could exert an influence even over nature itself sent a shiver through her. Kendrys nodded, but her mind was already elsewhere, seized by an internal storm.

  As she left the clearing, each step felt heavier, as if the ground sought to hold her back. Yet inside her, a rage was building, growing stronger with every movement. This anger, familiar and dangerous, consumed her entirely. She clenched her fists, and an intense heat spread beneath her skin.

  Her breathing quickened, short and fiery, as though each breath fed the blaze rising within her. The heat beneath her skin became unbearable, radiant, and soon, her entire body was engulfed in an incandescent fire. Flames erupted, rising from her arms and legs, dancing across every inch of her being. They didn’t burn her flesh, but they completely overtook her.

  Her limbs seemed ready to explode under the intensity of this raw energy. She clenched her fists, her fingers crackling with flame, and realized she could no longer stay. If she let this fury run free, the tranquil clearing would be reduced to ashes.

  In an almost instinctive motion, her feet left the ground. The flames surrounding her propelled her with terrifying lightness, each beat of her heart fueling the power that carried her. She rose, a blazing silhouette fleeing the clearing.

  The icy night air whipped against her face, powerless against the fire that burned within her. The flames did not waver; they pulsed, alive, vibrant, responding to the storm raging in her mind. The clearing disappeared behind her, swallowed by shadows, as she propelled herself toward the rear of the castle.

  As she approached the rocky, barren lands, the flames illuminated the cracked stones.

  Kendrys landed heavily among the rocks, a wave of heat radiating from her. Her flames, brilliant and fierce, licked the night air, casting a flickering, otherworldly glow over the desolate landscape. The surrounding silence, dense and suffocating, was broken only by the relentless crackle of her fire.

  She stood motionless for a moment, her eyes scanning the darkness. The flames danced around her. Her breathing, harsh and rapid, echoed like the roar of a forge at full blast.

  Her gaze fell upon an immense rock ahead—a dark, unyielding monolith, indifferent to the chaos she carried. It defied her with its stillness, a silent force unmoved by her fury. Kendrys advanced, each step driven by fierce determination, her flames intensifying with every movement.

  Reaching the massive stone, she stopped, her clenched fists trembling under the heat and rage boiling within her. Without hesitation, she pressed her burning hands against the rock’s rough surface. A wave of searing heat burst from her palms, penetrating the stone, breaking its resistance.

  The rock groaned, fissures spreading under the assault. The surface, once solid and unyielding, began to warp and soften, melting like molten metal. Kendrys let out a guttural, hoarse cry—a mixture of rage and release. Her arms sank into the softened stone, her flames surging until the air around her vibrated with intensity.

  But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. She stepped back slightly, the flames swirling around her in a furious storm, and then brought her fists down on the rock with devastating force. Each blow unleashed a wave of heat so intense that the air seemed to shatter into invisible fragments.

  Shards of stone flew in all directions, sparkling in the heat like fragments of stars torn from the sky. Kendrys continued, striking again and again, her movements becoming almost mechanical, driven by uncontrollable rage. The ground trembled beneath her feet.

  At last, the flames began to subside, weakening as her breathing slowed. Around her, there was nothing left of the rock. Where it once stood, there remained only ashes and gleaming fragments, faintly glowing in the night. Kendrys straightened, her fists still clenched, her gaze fixed on the empty space before her.

  Her ragged breath echoed in the returning silence, but the storm within her still raged, lurking just beneath the surface.

  — "Calm yourself, Kendrys."

  Soren's voice slipped into her mind, soft yet weighed down by a familiar fatigue. That murmur, almost reproachful, made her shiver—not in relief, but in irritation. A sharp defiance stirred within her, a silent rebellion against this intrusion. She hated his ability to breach her mental barriers, to force an intimacy she had not consented to. Every time, she felt stripped bare, exposed, as if her thoughts were being wrenched from her, and that sense of helplessness only stoked her fury further.

  The flames around her responded to this anger, flaring up and crackling with almost feral energy. Their reddish glow bathed the surroundings in an infernal hue, while the ground beneath her cracked under the searing heat. The fissures spread like luminous veins, and fragments of stone shattered and melted into molten pools. The air itself seemed to bend under the heat, rippling like a distorted canvas.

  — "You risk terrifying the ones you seek to protect," Soren continued, his voice almost detached. "Come back to me."

  She closed her eyes, struggling to contain the storm raging inside her. Her ragged, labored breathing sounded like a fiery bellows. She inhaled deeply, pulling air laden with heat into her lungs, and forced herself to channel her power.

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, the flames began to recede. They flickered, hesitated, and then extinguished one by one, leaving only residual warmth around her. Kendrys opened her eyes to the scene of desolation she had left in her wake.

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  The ground, once solid, was now a cracked, blackened expanse. The stones, reduced to ashes or glittering fragments, still bore the scars of her rage.

  His voice dissipated in her mind like a mist, but his command remained, heavy and imperative. Kendrys stood frozen for a moment, her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. Her eyes fixated on the ashes and dust she had created. She hated obeying. Even more, she hated feeling like a threat she couldn’t control.

  At last, she raised her gaze toward the horizon, where the castle stood like a dark, unmoving silhouette, unyielding in the face of her turmoil. A deep sigh escaped her lips. She knew she had no choice.

  With a fluid, almost mechanical movement, she rose into the air. The remnants of the clearing faded beneath her, the residual warmth of her flames yielding to the biting chill of the night. Yet, the icy wind could not quench the fire still burning within her.

  Kendrys strode toward Soren’s office, her brisk pace betraying an irritation she no longer tried to hide. The door, ajar, allowed a flickering light to seep through—the only movement in an almost oppressive darkness. Inside, Soren sat slouched in his armchair, motionless, his gaze fixed on a dying candle. The fragile, wavering flame cast undulating shadows on his expressionless face, while melted wax carved winding trails.

  She stepped in, her footsteps halting just before the light. He did not lift his eyes.

  — "Did you call me?" she finally asked.

  Soren lifted his head slowly, his empty gaze passing through her. The silence he allowed to stretch between them carried a weight that seemed to fill the entire room, pressing down on Kendrys. Finally, he spoke, his tone flat, devoid of warmth:

  — "Bandits have been spotted in the south, a few dozen kilometers from the castle. They must be stopped."

  Kendrys felt a wave of anger rising within her, her fist clenching instinctively. She hated that tone, that way he issued orders as though she were nothing more than a pawn in a game he controlled.

  — "Why me?" she growled, her voice vibrating with rage.

  Soren did not move. He remained still, his silhouette merged with the shadows, his face as unyielding as a wall.

  — "You seem to need an outlet," he finally replied.

  She glared at him, her fiery gaze searching for a crack in that impassable wall. But there was none. Soren was a block of ice, unshakable, and every interaction with him reminded her of the same lesson: striking this wall only fed her own fury.

  She took a deep breath, but the air she swallowed did nothing to extinguish the fire burning inside her. Kendrys knew he wouldn’t change his mind. No more than she could ignore the order he had just given.

  Without a word, she turned on her heel. The cape she wore swirled around her, a fleeting shadow in the dying light of the room. The door closed behind her with a sharp snap.

  *****

  At dawn, as the day barely began to break, painting the sky in pale gray hues, Kendrys entered the courtyard. A black horse awaited her, imposing, its flanks glistening faintly under the morning dew.

  The animal stood still, yet it radiated a contained energy. Kendrys approached with determined steps, her fingers closing around the reins. In one fluid motion, she mounted the horse and urged it forward.

  She set off without a backward glance, the castle quickly dissolving into the morning mist. The hooves struck the ground with hypnotic regularity, each impact resonating like a heartbeat. The wind, cold and sharp, whipped against her face, but Kendrys did not falter. Every part of her focused on a single goal: to move forward.

  The day stretched into an unrelenting gallop. The landscape blurred past her, hills rising and falling like waves of stone, offering no refuge, no respite. The sun, high in the sky, bathed the land in a harsh light, emphasizing the arid expanse of the horizon. Kendrys, resolute, kept her eyes fixed on the distant line where the sky met the earth.

  It wasn’t until dusk approached that the first touches of color appeared in the sky. The deep red of the setting sun, mingled with golden hues, painted the clouds like a fiery canvas. Yet this beauty went unnoticed. Kendrys did not slow. Her horse, loyal and tireless, seemed to share her resolve despite the fatigue weighing on their muscles.

  Finally, as the shadows of night began to stretch, Kendrys spotted a village nestled between two hills. From afar, it appeared as a dark smudge, a cluster of bricks in a barren landscape. The dying light of the day wrapped the place in an eerie, almost otherworldly aura.

  A shiver ran involuntarily through Kendrys. It wasn’t fatigue. Instinct, that trusted ally she never questioned, whispered a warning. She slowed her horse, letting it trot gently as she approached.

  The village’s narrow streets seemed abandoned, deserted. The silence was absolute, yet not soothing—it was dense, tangible, weighed down by an invisible tension. The houses, built of dark, time-worn bricks, stood like silent silhouettes. Their crimson fa?ades seemed to absorb the last rays of daylight.

  The windows, black and gaping, resembled empty eyes that tracked her every move. Even her horse, usually stoic, snorted softly, its ears twitching nervously. Kendrys reached for her weapon, her senses sharp, every fiber of her being taut.

  She stopped in front of a stable set slightly apart from the other buildings, its crude architecture amplifying the desolation that emanated from the place. After a brief hesitation, she knocked on the rough wooden door. The sound of her knocks echoed in the silence like a strangled cry.

  The wait was long. Too long. Kendrys frowned and knocked again, this time more insistently. A flickering light appeared behind a grimy, small window, casting an indistinct shadow inside. Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a bald man with a stern expression. His hard features and piercing gaze scrutinized her with palpable distrust.

  — "What do you want, girl?" he asked gruffly.

  Kendrys, upright and impassive, met his gaze squarely.

  — "I’m looking for a place to sleep and feed my horse," she said.

  The man studied her for a moment, his eyes drifting toward her black steed, still restless.

  — "That your horse?" he asked at last.

  She nodded, her expression remaining stoic. However, the metallic glint of two silver coins she pulled from her pocket seemed to erase any reluctance. The change was immediate—his expression softened.

  — "Boy!" he barked, turning toward the interior. "Take care of the lady’s horse!"

  A thin boy appeared at the top of a narrow staircase, his ill-fitting clothes accentuating the fragility of his frame. He descended awkwardly, avoiding eye contact, but managed a hesitant smile in Kendrys’s direction before taking the horse’s reins and leading it away.

  — "Follow me," said the young man.

  The room he showed her was tiny and austere, a simple stone box where the walls, covered in peeling paint, seemed to close in around her. A sour smell lingered in the air. The bed, though covered with clean sheets, looked as hard as a block of stone. Kendrys approached it briefly but quickly turned her attention to the narrow window.

  Outside, the night stretched out like an abyss. The dim light of a few lanterns wasn’t enough to pierce the darkness. The blackness felt almost alive. Crossing her arms, Kendrys stared into the void warily.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned abruptly, on guard. The boy entered timidly, his hesitant steps creaking on the wooden floor. He didn’t lift his eyes.

  — "I’ll bring your meal at 9:00 PM," he said in a low voice.

  Kendrys, seated on the edge of the bed, watched him intently.

  — "Why not downstairs?" she asked.

  The boy hesitated, visibly searching for his words. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally replied:

  — "If you prefer… you can come downstairs at 9:00 PM," he said at last.

  She nodded, marking the end of the exchange. The boy slipped out, his footsteps echoing as he moved away, leaving Kendrys alone.

  She lay down on the bed, her hands clasped behind her head, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each second weighing like a burden. The tension in the air did not dissipate. Kendrys closed her eyes.

  At precisely 9:00 PM, Kendrys sat up and descended the narrow staircase. Each step creaked under her weight. She reached the dining room, a cramped and oppressive space where the uneven stone walls seemed to curve slightly, as if closing in around her.

  At the center of the room, a round oak table dominated the space. Its deep grooves and worn edges spoke of years of rough and indifferent use. Seated on the edge of the table, the boy she had seen earlier was diligently peeling vegetables.

  — "Your mare is magnificent," he said suddenly, looking up at her.

  Kendrys, surprised by the remark, inclined her head slightly, a faint smile brushing her lips.

  — "Thank you. Her name is Elia. And you can use 'tu' with me," she added, her tone softening.

  The boy hesitated, his fingers nervously fiddling with a chipped knife.

  — "I’ve never seen a horse so beautiful," he finally admitted, his eyes briefly lighting up with admiration.

  Kendrys shrugged with a short laugh.

  — "She is beautiful, it’s true, but she has her own personality."

  The boy nodded, a clumsy smile crossing his face before he stood and disappeared into a small adjoining kitchen. When he returned, he carried a steaming bowl of broth and a piece of bread, which he placed carefully in front of her.

  — "Thank you," she said simply, taking the bowl in her hands to savor its comforting warmth.

  She bit into the bread, but it proved as hard as a stone. Frowning, she tried soaking it in the broth to soften it, but even then, it stubbornly resisted.

  The boy, standing near the table, watched her silently. His gaze followed her every movement with poorly concealed attention. Kendrys raised her eyes to meet his.

  — "Are you hungry?" she asked bluntly.

  The boy blushed immediately, lowering his gaze as he fidgeted.

  — "No, no," he replied hastily, shaking his head with exaggerated fervor.

  Kendrys, not pressing further, reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver coin, holding it out to him. The boy hesitated, his eyes lingering on the coin with visible longing, but he eventually shook his head, politely refusing. Determined, Kendrys stood up and, without a word, gently took his hand and placed the coin into his palm.

  — "Keep it," she said.

  He looked up at her, surprised, before lowering his head, murmuring a nearly inaudible thank-you. His fingers closed around the coin.

  Kendrys returned her attention to the meal. The bread, true to its nature, remained as unyielding as wood. With a sigh of defeat, she set it down on the table, finally turning her gaze back to the boy.

  — "Have you heard anything about brigands?" she asked.

  The boy seemed to freeze. His hands, which had been nervously smoothing his shirt, stilled. He lowered his eyes, scratching his head hesitantly, his dark hair becoming even more tousled.

  — "Yesterday… there was an attack on the village," he murmured. "Seven people… dead."

  Kendrys remained silent. Her gaze rested on the boy, whose features hardened.

  — "Were there any survivors?" she asked.

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes dark with a somber glint.

  — "No," he said gravely.

  The silence between them stretched, heavy and almost tangible. Kendrys searched for words to fill the void, to offer some semblance of comfort, but none came to her.

  — "What time did it happen?" she finally asked, returning to what she knew best: getting answers.

  — "During the night," he replied.

  Suddenly, Kendrys stood, her abrupt movement slicing through the silence that had settled between them. She grabbed her coat and slipped it on.

  — "Where are you going?" the boy asked, his voice tinged with a hint of panic.

  Kendrys turned halfway toward him.

  — "I need to think," she said simply, heading for the door.

  Before she could reach it, the boy took a quick step and grabbed her arm. His fingers trembled. Kendrys stopped, surprised by his boldness. His eyes were shining.

  — "You can’t go out," he murmured in a pleading voice. "The brigands are still in the area, and if…"

  He trailed off, visibly searching for his words.

  Kendrys’s expression softened.

  — "I’ll be careful," she promised with a smile—a gesture she didn’t often make.

  But he shook his head.

  — "Then I’m coming with you."

  Before she could respond, he grabbed a belt hanging from a hook near the door and fastened it around his waist. A knife dangled at his side. Kendrys placed a hand on his arm.

  — "It’s not necessary," she said.

  — "I can’t let you go alone," he replied.

  Kendrys sighed, a mix of irritation and resignation. She finally nodded.

  — "Fine," she said at last. "But stay behind me."

  They stepped out of the inn, leaving behind the flickering light and warmth. The cold night air wrapped around them instantly, sharp and heavy with moisture. The darkness was as black as ink, with the faint glow of lanterns illuminating only a tiny portion of their path.

  Kendrys led the way, her senses on high alert, her boots striking the ground with steady rhythm. The boy gripped the hilt of his knife tightly, his eyes scanning the shifting shadows that danced with the wind.

  They moved through the deserted streets, bathed in the pale light of the moon. The boy walked beside Kendrys, his eyes wide, frantically searching the darkness. His labored breathing echoed in the silence.

  They stopped in front of an imposing house, a dark, massive silhouette outlined against the night sky. Its three stories seemed to rise defiantly, absorbing all light and emanating an almost crushing presence. The windows, black and gaping, resembled empty eye sockets, and the fa?ade exuded an unsettling aura.

  — "We should go back to the inn now!" the boy pleaded.

  Kendrys crossed her arms and looked at him calmly, her piercing gaze meeting his. She shook her head.

  — "We’ve barely started," she replied.

  The boy clenched his fists, his shoulders tense like a bowstring about to snap.

  — "I know, but it’s dangerous…" he murmured.

  Kendrys noticed how his hands trembled, his fingers clutching at something unseen for stability. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but fear seemed to pull him back like an invisible force.

  — "You can go back. I’ll join you," she declared.

  — "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitant.

  — "We’ll meet at the inn," she said firmly, putting an end to the discussion.

  Kendrys turned and approached the black door of the house. As she placed her hand on the cold handle, a jolt of energy coursed through her, an electric sensation that made her shiver slightly. She felt a strange tension.

  The handle turned slowly, and the door creaked open, the sound almost imperceptible.

  A gust of icy air escaped from within, wrapping around her like a warning. Kendrys raised her free hand, and a flame burst forth from her palm.

  — "Don’t go in," the boy murmured, his voice barely a whisper. His wide eyes glimmered with desperate fear.

  Kendrys gave him one final look.

  — "I’ll be careful," she said.

  She stepped over the threshold, letting the darkness engulf her. The door closed slowly behind her, cutting the boy off from the faint halo of light she had carried with her.

  Outside, he stood motionless, alone in the night, his hands still trembling slightly as he stared at the house, as though it might swallow him whole.

  Inside, the darkness was profound, but the light of the flame dancing in Kendrys’s palm pushed back the immediate shadows around her. Its flickering glow cast strange, shifting shapes on the worn walls, distorting every detail into an almost surreal vision. Each of her steps elicited a faint creak.

  She moved slowly, her senses heightened, scanning every corner illuminated by her flame. The shadows, though temporarily banished, seemed always ready to return, lurking just beyond her field of vision.

  Kendrys kept advancing, her eyes searching for clues in the illuminated space ahead, her mind remaining on high alert. She knew that this light, though comforting, might also attract things she couldn’t yet see.

  But something was wrong. A smell, faint at first, began to creep into her nostrils. It was acrid, sharp, almost organic, and it grew more unbearable as she moved forward. Kendrys wrinkled her nose, instinctively trying to locate the source of the stench.

  Her gaze fell on a door leading outside. Passing through it, she discovered a garden overrun by wild vegetation. Tall, dense grass brushed against her legs. The air, heavy with moisture, seemed to carry the nauseating smell, which grew increasingly potent as she approached a wooden shed, half-hidden by a tangle of thick brambles.

  The shed seemed to be waiting. Kendrys, pulling out her knife, began cutting through the brambles. Each stroke sent shards of thorns falling to the ground, while the branches scratched at her clothes. When she finally reached the door, a wave of apprehension washed over her. She took a deep breath.

  As she pushed the shed door open, a swarm of flies suddenly erupted, a dark, writhing mass seemingly expelled by the room itself. The buzzing that accompanied them filled the air, sharp and frantic, drilling into Kendrys’s ears with an almost painful intensity.

  The insects, black and glistening, swirled around her in chaotic spirals. Their wings vibrated in the flickering light of her flame. Some darted toward her face, their legs brushing against her skin. Kendrys instinctively stepped back, raising her arm to shield herself while waving the other hand to drive them away.

  The dense, disorderly swarm fled the shed like an uncontrollable exodus, bursting into the night as a disjointed mass. The buzzing, deafening at first, began to fade as the flies dispersed.

  With them came a nauseating stench, immediately enveloping the space around Kendrys. It was an acrid, suffocating odor—a mixture of decay and rusted metal. It clung to her nostrils, sharp and almost alive. Kendrys wrinkled her nose, her stomach churning under the assault of the foul smell.

  The air was thick, heavy. Kendrys brought her arm up to her face, attempting to filter out the unbearable odor.

  She entered the shed cautiously, guided only by the flickering light of the flame in her hand. As soon as she stepped inside, a viscous liquid clung to her shoes, emitting a dull and unpleasant squelch with each step. A shiver of apprehension rose within her, but Kendrys, accustomed to far worse situations, moved forward carefully.

  The walls, illuminated by the light, were streaked with long trails of deep crimson. What at first glance appeared to be paint was, upon closer inspection, something far more sinister. Kendrys didn’t need to examine it long to realize its true nature—it was dried blood.

  She noticed the dark stains streaking the walls, forming chaotic, disorderly patterns. Some trails ran down in uneven waves, stopping abruptly as if they had been interrupted.

  She clenched her jaw. This was neither the time nor place to let fear take hold.

  The floor was cluttered with debris long abandoned to decay: rotting wood, stained scraps of fabric, and a thick layer of dust smothering every surface. The stagnant air carried a sour stench, a blend of mildew and something more acrid.

  Her attention was drawn to a chest, half-buried beneath the debris. The rusted lock seemed ready to give way with the slightest effort. With a precise kick, she forced the lid open, the action punctuated by a dull thud.

  Inside, dusty and insignificant objects were piled up: fragments of tools, pieces of tarnished metal, and half-disintegrated fabric. But it was a book, lying at the center, that immediately captured her attention. The cover, worn and cracked, was marked with indecipherable symbols.

  Kendrys reached out cautiously, her fingers brushing against the damaged surface before grasping the book. A strange warmth seemed to emanate from it. When she opened it, the yellowed pages revealed intricate symbols and hastily scribbled notes in a language she didn’t recognize. The characters, drawn by a nervous hand, seemed to vibrate under the light.

  She didn’t have time to linger. A dull noise from outside shattered the silence. She closed the book abruptly, her heart racing as she tucked it under her coat.

  Kendrys turned toward the door. As she stepped out, the cool night air swept around her. A few meters away, the boy stood motionless, his face pale and his wide eyes fixed on the entrance as if fearing she might vanish.

  — "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice trembling.

  Kendrys nodded.

  — "Yes, let’s head back to the inn," she said.

  The boy, relieved, nodded. Together, they left the overgrown garden, their footsteps echoing softly on the hardened ground.