It was too big.

  That was my first thought. It came on a wave of teeth-rattling dread.

  He was the size of a human. Not even a particularly large human, just a bit taller and broader than average. Saerith and Vessa had been the sizes of a tall human woman and a young adolescent.

  Horace had been the size of a large barncat.

  I shivered and backed up from the birch. The handprint was at least twice as wide as mine, and much longer.

  Oily black gleamed from within the rotted bark. I swallowed.

  Luridel.

  The word echoed quietly in the back of my mind.

  Luridel.

  I could see it. Swimming behind my eyes as my chest constricted. A question. A suggestion.

  What will it do? I chewed my lower lip. I’ve already used so much magic this morning. What if, whatever this is, it’s too much?

  It wasn’t just the thought of physical pain that made me pause. I certainly didn’t enjoy my bouts of nausea and fainting, but I’d learned long ago not to be afraid of them. It was either avoid magic altogether, or accept that the aftermath of attempting it would be, at times, difficult.

  But I couldn’t afford to collapse outside the inn. Teela didn’t have time for me to waste.

  I stared up at the tree, curious and desperate to try… and turned away. There would be other opportunities. Unless the rune was going to light up a clear trail for me to follow, it just wasn’t worth spending the time. Not yet.

  I slowly paced towards the hill, scanning the ground. It was mostly half-frozen dirt and patches of yellow grass. No footprints. No tracks. No patches of decay or that slick, black oil.

  After a few minutes of pacing in a wide cross-cross, I crested the top of the hill. It wasn’t very high up; standing at the peak, my eyes were nearly level with the inn’s thatched roof. I caught my breath and turned in a deliberate circle, examining my surroundings.

  The town was all cobblestones and painted houses. I could make out a few dozen people wandering to and fro, most of them wrapped in bustling cloaks.

  And behind me was the town wall.

  It was not an imposing, defensive construction. It was more of a fence. The wood was a mottled mixture of tawny pine and ash gray. And witchwood. Not much, but I could make out smooth planks cut from glassy silver every few paces.

  And beyond the fence, on the other side of the hill, lay a woods. Dark fir trees and brittle grass stretched for as far as I could see. It all glittered with frost. The canopy wound up other, broader inclines, all of it edging towards the mountain base.

  So… what am I looking for, exactly? If I assume this monster is here in the mortal realm, and not lurking in a cellar, then… a cave. That’s the logical guess. It’s all trees around here, but I bet there’s lots of rock formations as you travel west.

  I glanced upwards. The sun was still tucked behind swirls of pearly clouds, but I could tell its position well enough. I looked back at the forest.

  Right. Ahead of me, and to the side. I guess the town gate’s on the southern end. So… what? Do I just wander into the forest? Hope to find some kind of trail?

  I frowned at the expanse of frost-dusted land. It… was not a good plan. If I had limitless time to spend scouring the first then perhaps nearly-aimless wandering would have been a fine idea.

  But I didn’t have all the time in the world.

  I had hours. Maybe less.

  Maybe no time at all.

  Frosty wind swept my hair back and bit at my face. I sniffled.

  The town Watch. I don’t care if it’s a bad idea; it’s the best one I’ve got!

  I started to turn, just as hazy sunlight fell upon something bright a little ways beyond the treeline. Silver gleamed, just for a moment, out of the dark, swaying green. I froze, squinting.

  It’s not… it couldn’t be. I haven’t seen any others…

  Heat flooded through me. It wasn’t just from the reassurance of having a living witchwood nearby. It was the sudden, fierce memory of a hundred silver branches tearing the life out of a Fae.

  Wind rustled the canopy of swaying green and I caught the flash of familiar silver again. Without another thought I climbed over the wall and ran for the treeline.

  A weapon. I can have a weapon. The dagger won’t hurt a Fae, and fire… is an option, but not if I pass out again.

  But a witchwood branch… that is something to be reckoned with.

  I hurried along, stopping every few paces to bend branches or leave a snapped twig pointing back towards town. Durst may have given up on taking me hunting, but he made sure I knew how to leave a trail when wandering the woods.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Another bitter breeze nipped at my cheeks, and the firs creaked from all around. They weren’t the head-high pines I was used to; rather, these were trees that stood tall and proud, with dense needles stretching out far above my head and gradually blocking more and more of the dull sunlight. The farther I went, the darker my surroundings became.

  After a while, I slowed to catch my breath and nuzzle my cold nose and cheeks into the borrowed cloak. The branches around me creaked and their delicate needles rustled.

  Still… still too quiet. No birds. No animals. It’s… it’s just me, out here.

  Fear started to catch up.

  It whispered beneath the muffled leaves at my feet. Breathed at the back of my neck.

  Told me I wasn’t safe.

  I stood shivering, eyes darting to the looming trees all around. They stood ancient and uncaring.

  Animals get quiet when there’s a predator nearby. When… when they know there’s danger.

  Could a Fae wander freely beneath a canopy like this? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think so, but… it was just so dark. So dense. The light peeking down from above was sparse, just scattered rays of muted gold illuminating the odd patch of brittle grass and dead wood on the forest floor.

  What if it’s not in a cave? What if it’s just… here? Wandering around in the shadows? Waiting for foolish victims to go tromping out into the woods?

  I spent a moment trembling, then lowered the cloak and sucked in chilly air through my nostrils. The rush of cold shocked me back into movement.

  Well, I suppose that will solve my problem, then won’t it? If the monster finds me, then I’ll… I’ll… set it on fire?

  His face, unworried and amused, flashed through my mind. I imagined what the result of attempting to set him on fire would be.

  Probably not in my favor.

  I frowned.

  He was my only real experience with a Fae. My conversations with him and my brief interactions with Horace, Saerith, Vessa, and wretched Forthys were all I had to help gauge what this creature’s behavior might be like.

  Unless it was like the shadow hound; a bloodthirsty beast bent on indiscriminate violence.

  No. It’s been hiding out here for years, based on what Gil said. Hiding, making pacts, stealing people away… without everyone knowing. It’s smart. It has goals and wants, but it isn’t just randomly attacking the town.

  Not like the dog, then. More like Horace. Or the… the lord. Ugh. I need to actually ask what his name is. If he’ll even tell me; if what Horace said is true, Fae don’t just tell people their names. I suppose they make names up? I don’t know. But having a name, even if it’s not real, would be nice. Not because I care to know, just so that it’s easier to think of him.

  Not that I want to think of him.

  But for a moment, I couldn’t seem to think of anything else.

  Pale fingers brushing wilted roses. Coaxing them back to vibrant life. Soft, rich laughter. Eyes that held too much intent.

  He was flirting. In the garden. With me.

  I pushed a low-hanging branch and its army of pine needles aside. My pulse quickened. From the exertion, of course.

  He was just trying to make me uncomfortable. Watch the helpless mortal squirm. Not… not actually trying to be charming.

  None of that was charming.

  Salt. Get it together, Brin.

  Right. The monster. It’s smart. Probably powerful. Probably not as powerful as him, or it wouldn’t need Gil and whoever else to help it find victims. So maybe I can destroy it with fire. In the middle of the woods. As I pass out. Salt. Not much better than trying the fire in the middle of a house full of liquor.

  Maybe I can make a deal with it.

  The thought slammed into me like a stone wall. I stopped midstep, fighting down nausea.

  It was an awful idea. My very bones screamed out against the thought of binding myself to another monster. And what would the result be? What would it want? Would I have to stay in this town, kidnapping innocents and dragging them off to gods-know-where? Would I have to offer myself up as a willing victim?

  If it meant saving Teela…

  Taking someone else’s life was not an option. In no world would I ever consider such a thing. But offering my own as some sort of trade for her…

  I swallowed.

  Right. Cross that bridge when I get to it. Ideally, fire or a witchwood branch will be enough. Or perhaps just asking very, very nicely.

  Speaking of witchwood… is that… oh.

  My knees grew weak and I bit down a cry of despair.

  It was desecrated.

  Every bit of it. Warped. Bent. Torn. Ravaged.

  I threw myself towards the stooped silver trunk. It was cracked in half. One side stretched up, gleaming sadly amidst the green firs. The other half of the trunk was connected, at its base, but dragging across the forest floor and streaked with mud. There were tears all along the wood; places where glassy silver bark had been ripped up in strips, and where something sharp had gouged holes into the tree’s very flesh.

  And the leaves. I nearly wept. They were still. Silent. Blacker than sin and soft as a whisper, but unmoving. Dead.

  Not dead. Killed. Someone, or something, did this intentionally.

  I had no idea what kind of tool could have torn the bark and gouged the holes. But I’d watched Royce chop firewood enough times to know that the trunk had been split by a woodcutter’s axe.

  And everywhere, all around… rot. Decay.

  It wasn’t on the sacred tree. But the ground nearby, and scored into the bark of nearby firs… I could hardly breathe through the stench. Dead flesh. Fetid plants. The foliage around the ravaged witchwood was a palette of festering greenery. Slick, oily black glistened on the ground and the trees. Any grass nearby was gray and wilted; rotting where it grew.

  The wild thought to burn it all away came and fled as I cupped the velvet leaves.

  “I’m sorry,” I told them. It wasn’t anywhere near enough, but it was all I had. Tears dripped down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I… I’m sure you were very brave.” I sniffled.

  Luridel.

  Light pricked behind my eyes.

  The symbol danced.

  Shone.

  Wanted.

  I shivered and looked around, feeling suddenly very lost.

  I… I can’t! Surely I can’t. This morning was too much. Nothing will even happen; I'll just faint again.

  I stroked my fingers along the once-smooth silver longingly. I couldn’t stay here, no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I suddenly felt like a lonely child reaching out for the comfort of one of my beloved trees. No matter how much I wanted to stay and mourn this once-beautiful guardian.

  Teela needed me to keep going.

  I started to rise, whispering a farewell to the fallen tree. And then a voice like silk and sin murmured through the back of my mind.

  For someone like me… unless you bring an entire wretched tree with you, I’m in no real danger.

  I froze. Stared down at the witchwood. Breathed.

  Durst’s arrows didn’t kill him. Renner’s bolt didn’t kill him.

  Whatever this prowling monster was, a branch might not be enough.

  Especially like this. Unmoving and silent. Still silver, still standing, but… dead. Not the dead of a normal tree, with shriveled roots and rotting bark and warped gray wood. But… as though it had given up. Stopped fighting.

  You have, in the waking world, something that could kill me.

  I swore. My blood boiled.

  Ashes, I’m such a fool! I had a weapon. Something powerful. If it could kill him, surely it could kill just about any of them!

  And I just… handed it over.

  …Are there more?

  More shards, surely. Teela had confirmed it. More weapons? Perhaps. Probably. And I knew exactly who might have one.

  I could ask.

  The thought left me breathless. My heart pounded.

  He’d tried to give me a chest full of jewels. It stood to reason, then, that I would have been able to carry them into the waking world.

  I could ask for a weapon.

  A thrill of excitement lanced up my spine.

  It was an insane idea. Mad. But… it held a glimmer of hope.

  He’d clearly been upset about me finding a Fae in the mortal realm. He had ordered me to run. To abandon my friend and save myself.

  He thought I still had the shard; that made me valuable. I could lie, could tell him the shard was in a very safe place; somewhere I only knew, and I’d keep it hidden away forever unless he gave me something else to kill this monster with. Perhaps he could even help me figure out how to find this creature.

  “Okay,” I breathed out, straightening my collar and squaring my shoulders. “Okay. You wanted to prove you’re benevolent and kind and all that salt, right? Wanted to give me a reason to trust you? Well, here’s your chance.”

  I stepped to the fallen tree, lifted my fingers, and traced.

  “Luridel.”