Oriana already knew she was in the north due to the aching chill in the air, but the “white caps” could only be referring to the White Giants. She was farther north than she had thought. Her mind wandered, attempting to remember the villages closest to the imposing mountain range, when one of the townsfolk yelled out, “Protect our town! Protect, Sardorf!”
A chorus of “Aye!” rose around her, ale sloshing onto the tavern's wooden floorboards as tankards raised into the air.
Sardorf. Oriana had heard of the town. It was small, without a lot of natural crops or means of supplies to trade. She recalled a conversation she once overheard about how the small northern town nestled beneath the White Giants “wouldn’t last another winter.” If that were true, these people wouldn’t go down without a fight, not after what she had just heard.
Oriana kept her head down and headed straight for the elderly man stationed behind the bar, motioning for a tankard of ale.
As she watched the bustling scene around her, Oriana couldn’t help but notice that the lonely barkeep was practically sprinting throughout the tavern to bring both food and drink to the patrons. The idea formed itself. She had no place to go, and her home was…there would be nothing to go back to. Even if she could.
When the barkeep made his way back to the bar, half-empty tankard in hand, she reached out, grasping his arm to gain his attention. “Might you be in need of some help?”
31st Day of the First Moon, 1100
Sardorf was a tiny village with little more than seventy townsfolk that sat just south of the large mountain range dividing the frozen northern plains from the rest of Svakland. Oriana had woven her enchantment all throughout the small town, integrating herself into the minds of the people and securing a room at a barley farm due east of the village. As her enchantment took root, she was instantly disguised and included as one of the townspeople. And now here she was an entire month later, and no one was the wiser of who she was or what she had done.
“Here’s your first month’s pay, lass.” Kieran, the owner of The White Fox, handed her a small jingling pouch of coins. The sound of the clanking coppers was barely perceptible over the loud table of men singing the chorus of a bawdy tune, one too many in their cups.
“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile.
“You’re a hard worker, lassie. Hiring you is the best decision I’ve made. Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off? Head out and do something fun before the sun sets.” Kieran dried a freshly cleaned tankard with a ragged cloth. When she made no motion to move, he flicked the rag at her and yelled, “Get!”
Oriana turned, hanging her dirtied apron on a hook by the bar before heading out the door. She shielded her eyes from the bright sun, which had just reached the low point on the horizon so as to blind anyone who was looking straight ahead on their walk. Oriana shivered against the cold. It had only gotten brisker during the month she had lived in this town. No matter how warm the sun’s rays were, there was always a chill in the north. Oriana pulled her cloak tighter around herself.
With a soft and weary sigh, her shoulders sagged in resignation. The visions of the night in the field sprang unbidden to the forefront of her mind. She shook them away almost instantly, feeling the sting of unshed tears hovering behind her eyes. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of the events of that night, that her heart didn’t constantly ache for the lives she had taken, along with the ones that had been taken from her. Oriana attempted to push it all into the dark recesses of her mind. Not the healthiest thing, she agreed, but she had done it in the past and could do it now.
She still didn’t know exactly what Anthes had done to her, but she hadn’t felt the urge to kill–that bloodlust–since that night, which was strange. No matter how deep the pit within herself she kept it locked in was, there was always an inkling of that darkness hovering just beneath her surface. Maybe she had finally succeeded in forcing it to such a depth inside herself that she could no longer feel its presence. But knowing Anthes and the specific nature of his words that night, there was more to it than that. Much more.
For now, she was content to meander through the streets of the quaint town she had nestled herself into. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and sweet almond pastries. Her mouth watered in response. She decided to celebrate her first month’s pay and purchase a flaky pastry, nibbling on the treat as she headed to the barley farm.
Birds sang high above while distant chirping echoed from the depths of the wood, crickets, frogs, and rodents, creating a symphony of wildlife. She loved this peaceful walk from the village to her cottage, and it was all the better with a delicious almond pastry in hand. She breathed in the crisp fresh air, turning her face up toward the sun to feel the last inkling of its waning warmth before the night.
She let her eyes search their surroundings, finding herself wishing the forest was larger, thicker, and more whimsical. This far north, everything was colder and drearier. No greenery except for the sparse pines and scattered bush. Everything was the same shade of green and brown wherever you looked. Still pretty in its own way, but rather dull.
She ached for a bit of warmth, for flowers of every color, for crystal clear sprawling seas. Perhaps she would travel to a new part of the world once she had saved enough coin to do so. All she knew was Elscar. And although its beauty was fathomless, she knew there was more out there waiting for her.
She couldn’t imagine going back to her home there, not now, possibly not ever, not after what Anthes had done. She could still recall his face looming over her, cold and pious, an expression of contempt forever locked upon his long, lean features. She could still feel his fierce, crimson gaze as it bore into her, dripping with disapproval. She blew out a shuddering breath, a cloud of steam rising above her.
By the time she finally made it to her lodgings, it had grown considerably colder. The sun's rays were just barely peeking through the frosted trees at her back. She thought about stopping by the main house to give the farm owner her first month's rent, but her fingers were already stiff and aching from the cold. She needed to thaw them by the fire. She would pay him in the morning.
She practically sprinted the last few steps to her small single-room cottage, slamming the wooden door behind her. Kneeling by the empty fireplace, she fumbled with the iron and flint, her frozen fingers shaking. Finally, a flame flicked to life. Oriana snatched the heavy woolen blanket from her straw bed on the cottage floor and wrapped it around herself, crouching as close to the fire as possible without bursting into flame.
She glanced out the window, watching as the final beams of sunlight descended into darkness. The night was clear. A speckling of stars twinkled amongst the midnight sky, and in its center, a full moon glowed brightly.
She sighed as her fingers and toes began to warm. It was then that a strange, dizzying sensation washed over her, the force of it nearly knocking her back. Every muscle in her body tensed. Her blood boiled. A feeling of pure rage that spread through her veins like wildfire. Her breathing quickened and her heart felt as if it might pound its way through her chest with each beat. She clenched and unclenched her fists from the rush of it.
“No…” A growl escaped her lips as her features shifted, the enchanted glamour she had set in place reversing on its own accord. She reached to tap her well deep within, but it was empty. Her magic was gone. “No!” she screamed. “What has he done?”
She ran to the looking glass that hung beside the window. All she could do was watch as her hair melted back into straight snow-white locks. Her eyes shifted to their natural vivid green, but then again to a glowing, monstrous yellow like that of a nocturnal creature, her vision suddenly sharper as if she were seeing in the beaming rays of daylight.
“You have control,” she chanted. “Keep it separate, lock it down deep.” But it was of little use. She witnessed in horror as her forehead morphed from its smooth and silky complexion to a grotesque, bumpy mass leading down to her nose–now in a sharp, menacing hook. And if that wasn’t horrific enough, every tooth in her mouth began to elongate, grinding against one another and pushing out in a wave of pain until she had a mouth full of razor-sharp, jagged fangs. She stumbled backward, gasping in terror. The monster had broken free once again.
It was then that a knock sounded at her door. Her head whipped toward the wooden frame, alert. She could hear a steady thumping on the other side. A heartbeat. Oriana licked her lips instinctively.
“Oriana?” came a voice from the other side of the door along with another soft knock.
“Come in,” she drawled, moving away from the moon’s ghostly beams and blanketing herself in shadow.
The door creaked open, and Liam–the cottage owner–stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him against the biting cold. “I wanted to stop over to see whether you had the rent for this first month?”
