HOW THE SHADOWS FEAST
vi. to lure the prey

the fourth night

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THE VOICE HAD RETURNED.

At midwinter, it had been nothing but a soft whisper, easily mistaken for the wind that brushed the treetops and its sighs in the masonry. Since then, it had become more fervent each night.

All the last years, Katinka had been sure to be free again, that by entering the convent, she'd leave all the dark creatures behind, that it only took the power of purifying herbs, blessed candles, and prayers to never hear them again.

But there was this bodyless voice, slipping through the crack of the door, whispering in her ear, and reminding her of the cruel truth that her hopes had been nothing but foolish.

Where the darkness once had sunken its teeth into it never left again. It poisoned her flesh, bone, and blood. Yes, Katinka should've known better than to expect her curse to be lifted. All the begging and tears shed at her bewildered father's feet to send her away when she was still a child had been useless.

Today, these ancient walls were the only home Katinka had left, but they had all but abandoned her.

Ironically, beside her, Saskia—the cursed girl—peacefully slept. She seemed unbothered by what kept Katinka up at night and her knees cleaving to the cold floor despite clearly disliking the burning herbs and barely ever praying.

Katinka's eyes were fixed on the flame, hoping its light could burn the darkness fogging her sight.

I beg you, Bright Mother, keep the shadows out ...

"Put out the candles, child. Open the door." It was not Perhta who had answered her but that voice that had spoken from the hound's foul mouth.

"Go away," Katinka aspirated.

"But you begged for help in prayer. Here I am, answering."

"I did not pray to you." It was Perhta she called, and the Bright Mother did not speak in such venomous tongues.

A soft chuckle. "There is no use denying it. You already let me into your heart and soul. Why else would you hear me?"

This had to be a lie, of course. Howsoever this demon surmounted all the convent's protections, it could not be because of Katinka. "Leave me alone, please. Please."

"Isn't the silence of the world lonely?"

No, it's freedom, she wanted to yell, but instead simply said: "You do not belong here."
Since when did demons pose such questions? Since when did they ask her anything at all?

No, this was different. Wildly different from all the ghosts, spirits, and demons. It seemed all too human, too powerful—and too cruel.

"And you do belong here?" asked the bodyless creature, almost amused.

Tears clouded Katinka's eyes, for she knew it was right: She was an insult to the sanctity of this place. A poor possessed one not worthy of Mother Gesa's or Perhta's love. But I never asked for this curse.

"Is it truly a curse if Perhta is the mistress of the dark, too, humankind and demons both?"

This devil could read her thoughts? "But it's not for humans to stray from her light and wander in the Bright Mother's shadows."

"We're not so different, child," the voice whispered, caressing her cheek with the softest breeze. It smelled of ashes and snow. "I wish for freedom, too."

"Freedom, I cannot give you, demon."

"I think you can. And I could grant you yours."

"I—I would face punishment, endless suffering."

The wind almost manifested into something all too similar to the touch of a cold hand fondling her face. "Aren't you in hell already?"

"Perhta keep me safe!" Katinka bit her lip, hard enough to feel hot blood dripping down her chin.

"Maybe it is her, who you should want to be kept safe from?"

Please forgive me. Katinka's fingers embraced the timidly flickering flame. It burned her fingers before she put it to death. However, Katinka wished it had consumed her and all her darkness whole.

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When Saskia awoke, the sheets beside her were empty and cold. In a soft breeze, the door, ajar, swayed open and closed again, sighing like an old woman with every arduous movement and letting chilly air creep inside. The candles were out.

And Katinka was gone.

A shiver ran down her spine, fear taking root in her stomach. If someone ever dared—or even wished—to leave their cell in the Nights of Smoke, it was Saskia herself. Katinka, however, afraid of those times more than anything else would never do such a thing.

She slipped out of the covers and ran out into the endless corridors without caring to cover her body with something warmer than the shift she was wearing. Part of her wanted to call her, but the other knew full well that whatever had happened was not for judging eyes. Better not wake the beast.

The chapel with Perhta's effigy, lightened by low-burning candles, was vacant—except for the giant hound sitting at her marble feet. Now, it did not seem as dead as before. No bone showed beneath its inky fur but the eyes still glowed an unnatural red—the fires of the underworld.

"Where is she?" Saskia asked, panic almost slipping into her voice.

Not answering, the creature's lips simply curled into a smile, seemingly mocking her and the goddess whose sacred space it had entered.

"What do you want?"

"I heard you. Now you are to hear me," the wolfhound answered.

You ought not to show fear towards demons and ghosts—it earned them all the more power over you, let them crawl deeper and deeper into your mind and soul—but at the moment this seemed impossible. Her fingers kneading the fabric of her shift, softly trembled.

"I fulfilled your wish. Now, I demand a sacrifice."

"My wish?"

"Your prince to be gone. He is. I can give, and I can take, desetnitsa."

Sickness flared up in her stomach. "I did never wish for him to be dead," she croaked.

Untouched, the wolfhound's ear twitched. "It was his fault alone. He did not listen to the warnings and entered my woods."

"Your woods?" Saskia asked, perplexed.

The creature cocked its head. "Who else do you think they belong to? This petty little prince and his henchmen?"

What on earth was this being? Like a wood sprite, it looked not. But on the other hand, what did she truly know about the world of spirits?

Saskia's eyes flicked to the box.

A husky laugh emerged from the hound's throat, crawling with the stench of smoke through its long sharp, teeth. "No, I do not want some coins like a silly little ghost."

"What else could I give?"

"The wolves are coming, desetnitsa. Better help your little fawn. We will meet again very soon."

Saskia didn't waste time asking questions. Whatever this creature was, whatever it wanted, whyever it knew this, it did not matter. Through a door that was ajar, she surged out into the night.

Instantly, the cold of the snow bit her naked feet. However, Saskia barely felt it—it was the sight making her freeze to the bone.

The seven men wore masks similar to the hooved beasts: with curled horns, gaping mouths releasing hungry, red tongues, and demonic eyes.

The Order did so because they came so the true monsters did not, punishing one before they could punish all and reminding any villager of Schwarzhain what would await them if they were not here.

One of them had his gloved hand in Katinka's hair whose eyes oozed wild, pure panic. Beneath this mask, there could've been anyone.

Still, Saskia knew it was Silvan.

"Go back inside, Sister. She's already lost to us," he said.

She wondered if he was smiling now and if this smile could be even more cruel than that monstrous one his mask displayed.

"No ..." Saskia breathed.

"We found her talking to demons. She was the one who broke the rules and brought death upon Schwarzhain." Voice obscured from the wooden mask Saskia could not tell for certain if there was bitterness in it. However, this felt like vengeance.

Perhaps her sister had been right: This man was dangerous.

"Lord, I beg you. Katinka would never—"

"Fear does not equal devotion, Sister. Too much of it and every faith is spoiled."

This could only be her fault, Saskia knew. Caught up in burying all the bones, she had not seen that she was digging fresh graves, too.

"But—What will become of her?"

"That's none of your concern."

Everything in her wanted to fight, dig her nails into his fur coat, sink her teeth into his hand, and tear Katinka from his arms. Or at least scream to punish her instead, for it was she who had broken the rules.

However, Saskia knew it was hopeless. Where would it get them if they took her, as well? What use was there in fighting armed men with bare hands? Men that did not only have the convent and village on their side but the gods too?

And Katinka must have known, as well, because she did not even try to speak her cause even though she was innocent. Must have been. When the Order of Wolves pronounced a judgment nothing was left to say. Thus, she seemed to accept her fate without any resistance but only silent tears.

Saskia couldn't do anything but swallow her burning rage, stand and stare, naked feet already frozen numb in the snow how they dragged Katinka away.

I will bring you back. I will, she thought, hoping her sister could read it in her eyes.

"Don't weep, Sister. There is no use in shedding tears over a cursed girl."

Saskia may have been cursed, too. But even more, she was a curse to others.

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15 497 words

milestone 3 ✗