The soft clink of spoons against bowls filled the cottage, mingling with the crackle of the hearth and the low chatter of Lir and Tobin as they squabbled over the last piece of bread.
Naire sat at the table, her hands wrapped around her bowl of porridge, the warmth seeping into her palms but doing little to ease the knot in her chest. The morning's deceptive normalcy—Eryn's steady presence, her mother's quiet pragmatism, the boys' laughter—felt like a fragile thread, ready to snap under the weight of the void's pulse still thrumming faintly in her blood.
Lysara's warning echoed in her mind: The dangerous ones will come.A sharp knock at the wooden door broke the rhythm of the meal. Naire's head snapped up, her spoon pausing midair, her heart thudding as the void's hum stirred, faint but unmistakable. Eryn's mother glanced toward the door, her brow furrowing, but Eryn was already on her feet, wiping her hands on her skirt as she crossed the room.
"Who'd be knocking this early?" Eryn's mother muttered, her voice low, more to herself than anyone else. She stayed seated, her eyes flicking to Naire, a shadow of concern in her weathered face.Eryn opened the door, the hinges creaking softly, and a gust of cool morning air slipped into the cottage.
"Oh, Mr. Hillmen," Eryn said, her tone curious but warm. "What are you doing here?"Naire stayed at the table, her grip tightening on her spoon, her eyes fixed on the open doorway. Lir and Tobin continued eating, their chatter quieter now, their small faces turned toward the visitor with mild interest. Eryn's mother leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on the table, watching.A man stood in the doorway, his frame broad but stooped, as if years of hard work had bent his shoulders. He was in his mid-forties or fifties, his long white beard streaked with gray, tangled and wild, framing a face weathered by sun and wind.
His clothes were simple—patched trousers, a worn tunic, boots caked with mud—and his eyes, sharp but tired, scanned the cottage before settling on Eryn."Oh, have you seen who ate my chickens?" Mr. Hillmen said, his voice rough, edged with frustration. He scratched at his beard, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "There's some black substance left over where they were, all slick and foul-smelling.
Don't know what type of thing did it—or if it was a person. I've asked everyone in the village, and no one's got answers."Naire's stomach dropped, the porridge turning to lead in her throat. Her fingers trembled, the spoon clattering softly against the bowl as she set it down.
Black substance. Foul-smelling. She knew that scent, that texture—the void's taint, the same goo that had coated her skin, that had melted from Lysara's body last night. Her breath hitched, her eyes darting to Eryn, who stood frozen in the doorway, her back stiff, her brown eyes flicking briefly to Naire with a look that said she knew, too.
"Black substance?" Eryn said, her voice calm but careful, buying time as she leaned against the doorframe. "That's… strange, Mr. Hillmen. Where exactly did you find it?""Out by the coop, near the edge of my field," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the village's outskirts.
"Right by the forest. Feathers everywhere, blood too, but no chickens. Just that… stuff. Like tar, but worse. Made my skin crawl just looking at it." His eyes narrowed, scanning the cottage again, lingering on Naire for a moment before moving back to Eryn.
"You lot haven't seen anything odd, have you? Heard there's been noises in the forest lately."Naire's heart pounded, the void's pulse quickening in her veins, a faint hum stirring in the back of her mind. She wanted to shrink into herself, to disappear, but Eryn's mother was watching her now, her expression unreadable but heavy with that same pity she'd shown last night. Lir and Tobin had stopped eating, their spoons forgotten, their wide eyes flicking between Naire and the man in the doorway.
"Noises?" Eryn said, her tone light, deflecting. "Just the usual—owls, foxes, that sort of thing. Haven't seen anything near your field, though. Have you told the elders?"Mr. Hillmen grunted, scratching his beard again. "Not yet. Wanted to check with folks first.
If it's a beast, we'll need to hunt it. If it's… something else, well, we'll need more than bows and traps." His eyes flicked to Naire again, sharper now, and she felt the weight of his suspicion, though he didn't voice it. "You're new here, aren't you?" he said, his tone not quite accusing but close. "Haven't seen you around before."Naire swallowed, her throat dry, the void's pulse urging her to run, to hide.
"I… just arrived," she said, her voice rough, barely steady. "I don't know anything about your chickens."Eryn stepped slightly in front of the doorway, drawing Mr. Hillmen's attention back to her. "She's staying with us for a bit," she said, her voice firm, protective. "Been through a rough time. Nothing to do with your chickens, Mr. Hillmen.
"The man studied Eryn for a moment, then nodded, though his eyes lingered on Naire a second longer. "Right," he said, his tone grudging. "Well, if you hear anything, let me know. Can't afford to lose more livestock, not with winter coming." He turned, his boots scuffing against the dirt path, but paused, glancing back. "And watch yourselves.
Whatever did this… it ain't natural."Eryn nodded, her smile tight. "We will. Thanks for letting us know." She closed the door, the latch clicking softly, and leaned against it for a moment, her shoulders tense, her brown eyes meeting Naire's across the room.
The cottage fell silent, the boys' chatter gone, Eryn's mother's hands still on the table, her gaze heavy.
Naire's heart thudded, the void's hum louder now, a warning she couldn't ignore. The black substance, the missing chickens—it wasn't Lysara, not anymore, but something else. Something she'd unleashed when she killed her father, when she broke the chains in the void."That was no animal," Eryn said, her voice low, meant for Naire alone as she crossed back to the table. She sat, her eyes searching Naire's face, steady but urgent.
"You know what it was, don't you?"Naire's hands trembled, her fingers curling into fists to hide it. She wanted to lie, to say it was nothing, but the truth was too heavy, too real. "It's… the void," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something I let out. Something that's still coming."Eryn's mother exhaled sharply, her eyes narrowing, but she didn't speak, her silence heavier than words.
Lir and Tobin exchanged glances, their small faces pale, sensing the shift in the air but not understanding it.Eryn leaned closer, her voice low, fierce. "Then we need to stop it," she said. "Before it hurts anyone else. But you have to tell me everything, Naire.
No more hiding."Naire's throat tightened, Lysara's words—they'll take you, keep you as theirs—burning in her mind. The cottage felt normal, looked normal, but it was a lie, and she was the crack in its foundation. She nodded, her voice shaking. "Okay," she said. "But not here.
Not with them listening."Eryn glanced at her mother, her brothers, then back to Naire, her jaw tightening. "Tonight," she said. "After they're asleep. We'll figure this out together."Naire's chest ached, Eryn's resolve a lifeline she didn't deserve but couldn't refuse.
Outside, the village hummed with life, oblivious to the void's shadow creeping closer. But Naire could feel it—the hum, the pulse, the promise of something worse than Lysara, something that wouldn't stop until it claimed her.
The breakfast dishes were cleared, the clatter of bowls and spoons replaced by the soft hum of morning chores. Lir and Tobin, their bellies full of porridge, bolted out the cottage door, their laughter echoing as they chased each other into the yard, the wooden hoop they loved rolling unevenly across the dirt.
The normalcy of their play felt like a fragile shield, holding the void's shadow at bay, but Naire's chest tightened with every giggle, knowing it could shatter at any moment.
Inside, the cottage was quiet, the hearth's embers glowing faintly, the scent of bread and herbs lingering in the air. Eryn's mother stood by the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag, her weathered face calm but her eyes sharp, fixed on Naire with that heavy mix of pity and caution. Eryn sat across from Naire at the table, her brown eyes steady, her hands folded in front of her, waiting.
The weight of Mr. Hillmen's words—black substance, missing chickens, something unnatural—hung between them, a silent demand for answers.Naire's hands trembled in her lap, her fingers twisting the hem of her borrowed tunic.
The void's pulse thrummed faintly in her blood, a reminder of Lysara's goo seeping into her, of the dangerous ones she'd unleashed. She'd promised to tell Eryn everything, but the truth felt like a blade, ready to cut through the fragile warmth of this place. She swallowed, her throat dry, and forced herself to speak."I'm not… from here," Naire began, her voice rough, halting.
"Not just Rhysha. Not anywhere… human. Not anymore." Her eyes flicked to Eryn, then to her mother, searching for judgment, but finding only quiet attention. "I was born in a village, far from here. My mother… she loved me, even though I was… wrong."Eryn's brow furrowed, but she didn't interrupt, her hands still, her gaze urging Naire to continue."My father wasn't human," Naire said, the words heavy, raw. "He was… something from the void. A place of darkness, of chains, of things that don't belong in this world.
He… made me, with my mother, and left me with his blood. His taint." Her voice cracked, memories of her childhood flooding back—the whispers, the fear in her village, the boys' fists, the bodies she'd left broken. "I didn't know what I was, not really.
Not until I ran."Eryn's mother leaned against the kitchen wall, her rag forgotten, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she stayed silent, listening.
"I killed people," Naire said, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands clenching into fists. "Not because I wanted to, but because… something in me did. The void. It came out when I was scared, when I was hurt. I ran to the forest—the Veil of Pyre. That's where I met him. My father.
"Eryn's breath hitched, her eyes widening, but she didn't speak, letting Naire's words spill out."He called me his daughter," Naire continued, her voice trembling. "Said I was his, that I belonged to the void. He was… horrible.
Chains, bodies, a voice that didn't sound human. I fought him. I dragged him into the Veil of Pyre's lake—a pit of darkness. I thought it would end him, end it all. But it didn't." She paused, her throat tightening, Lysara's red eyes flashing in her mind. "I broke something.
The chains he used to bind things—things like him, worse than him—they're free now. Because of me."Eryn's mother exhaled sharply, her arms crossing, her pity giving way to something harder, more practical. "And that woman last night?" she asked, her voice low, steady.
"The one you fought outside?"Naire nodded, her hands shaking. "Her name was Lysara. She was one of them. She said I freed her when I killed my father. She wanted me—said I was a key, a bridge to the void. She said more are coming. Dangerous ones.
They'll kill… everyone. And they'll take me."Eryn's jaw tightened, her hands unclenching, one reaching across the table as if to touch Naire's arm but stopping short. "Why you?" she asked, her voice fierce but quiet.
"Why do they want you so badly?"Naire's eyes dropped to the table, the void's pulse quickening, a faint hum stirring in her chest. "Because of what I am," she said, her voice hollow. "My father's blood—it's in me. It makes me… strong. Different. I can do things—things I don't want to do. Last night, with Lysara… my eyes turned black. I bit her, tore her apart. And her blood, her essence, it's in me now.
It's making the void stronger."Eryn's mother stepped forward, her eyes narrowing further, but her voice stayed calm. "And this black substance Mr. Hillmen found? That's part of it?"Naire nodded, guilt twisting in her gut. "Yes. It's the void's taint.
It's… spreading. Because of me."The cottage fell silent, the only sounds the distant laughter of Lir and Tobin outside, oblivious to the weight of Naire's confession. Eryn's mother straightened, her arms uncrossing, her expression unreadable but resolute. "You didn't choose this," she said, her voice firm, cutting through the silence. "But you're here now, and you've brought it to our door.
So what are you going to do about it?"Naire's breath caught, the question hitting harder than any accusation. She looked up, meeting the woman's gaze, then Eryn's, whose brown eyes held no pity, only a stubborn determination. "I… don't know," Naire admitted, her voice shaking. "I want to stop it.
I want to keep you safe. But I don't know how."Eryn leaned forward, her voice low, urgent. "Then we find out," she said. "Together. You're not alone, Naire. Whatever's coming, we'll face it. But you have to trust me.
"Naire's chest ached, Eryn's words a lifeline she wanted to grab but feared would slip through her fingers. She thought of her mother, the village, the bodies she'd left behind. She didn't want to bring that destruction here, to this cottage, to these people who'd given her a chance at something human.
But the void's pulse, Lysara's warning, the black substance in Mr. Hillmen's field—they were all signs that time was running out."There's something else," Naire said, her voice barely audible, her eyes fixed on the table. "Lysara said… the void doesn't let go. It's in me, and it's not going away. If I stay, it'll keep coming. For me. For you.
"Eryn's mother's eyes softened, just for a moment, before hardening again. "Then we make a plan," she said, her voice practical, unyielding. "You can't run forever, girl. And we're not throwing you to the wolves. Not yet.
"Eryn nodded, her hand finally crossing the table to rest on Naire's, her touch warm, grounding. "We'll start with the village," she said. "Talk to the elders, see if anyone knows about the void, about things like… what you've seen. And we'll watch for signs—more of that black substance, anything strange.
You're not fighting this alone."Naire's throat tightened, tears pricking her eyes, but she forced them back. She didn't deserve this—Eryn's trust, her mother's resolve—but she couldn't refuse it, not when the void was closing in. "Okay," she whispered, her voice steadying.
"But if it comes to it… if I'm too dangerous… you have to let me go."Eryn's grip tightened, her eyes fierce. "Not happening," she said. "We're in this together, Naire. Get used to it.
"Outside, Lir's laughter rang out, bright and carefree, but Naire could feel it—a faint hum, distant but growing, vibrating through the earth. The void was watching, waiting, and the dangerous ones Lysara had spoken of were closer than ever.