I’m finally home.
Our steps are silent along the cobblestones of the main road. Even though we make haste, we don’t sacrifice stealth for speed. By the time the moon emerges from the clouds we look like two hunters returning to the fortress early from patrol. Not that anyone sees us. The houses are shut tight for the full moon.
I wonder how much of the uneasy silence is due to the invisible scars left by the Blood Moon. People are still mourning losses, made all the harder by survivor’s guilt.
The road takes us into town. Ventos pauses in the main square, looking up at the bell tower.
“It’s of our make. There is no question about that,” he murmurs.
I can see it, too. There’s no way I could’ve before I went to Midscape. But now that I’ve spent time in Tempost, the vampir’s architecture is undeniable. It’s eerily similar to the bell towers of the academy. “This really was once all your land.”
“The far southeast reaches,” he agrees. “I swear, the Elf King that carved the Fade had no sense of geography. I hear the fae lost a lot of land in the cleaving, too.”
“I wonder if humans are fighting the fae too,” I murmur. The silver mines we source from are far to the north, right past where the fae lands would’ve once been according to the maps I saw at the museum. Perhaps that’s why the silver supply stopped. I think of another town just like Hunter’s Hamlet, battling fae instead of vampir. “Do fae hate silver, too?”
“Not that I know of. But Tempost was shut to the rest of the world before I was born in an effort to contain the curse so I never met a fae.” Ventos shrugs. “That’s a better question for Callos.”
“Right. Anyway, let’s keep going.” But the thought of silver has me swinging wide through town. Before I know it, I’m really back.
“Where are we?” Ventos looks at me curiously, no doubt because I’ve inexplicably stopped in my tracks.
Home.
I stand in the spot the Succumbed stood a month ago when it turned my way, when I drank the elixir and changed my life forever. The silver bells have been taken down from the eaves over the door, and the salt is gone from the doorstep. Tied around the knocker is a black ribbon—a symbol of mourning, of death. They’ve been on the other doors of Hunter’s Hamlet, more than I have ever seen, but this one is different. This one steals my breath. Is that ribbon for my brother? For me? Or both of us?
But everything, save for that black ribbon, is the same as I’ve always known it. The curtains are pulled tight over the swirling glass of the windows. My mother’s window on the second floor, right next to mine, is dark. I’m certain if I went inside, I would hear her snores.
“Floriane?” Ventos whispers.
“My family’s home,” I finally answer, tearing my eyes from the ribbon on the door.
“We don’t have time for—”
“I know,” I admit. “I’m sorry…just one thing.” He grabs my wrist as I start toward the side of the house. “One thing, Ventos, I promise. That’s all.Please.”
Our eyes lock. Disapproval radiates off him. He doesn’t want to allow this to happen, but he already knows he has no choice but to let me. He knows I won’t leave without being allowed this; I can see it in his expression. His fingers slowly uncurl.
“A minute, no more, and no one sees.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to sneak around my home.” I maneuver back and around the house. Set apart from all the other dense buildings of Hunter’s Hamlet is the smithy. Too noisy. Too hot. Too much of a fire hazard to be placed too close to anything else. Under cover of darkness, I slip inside and head right for the hearth.
It’s warm.
I cover my mouth to prevent the sigh of relief from escaping as a whimper of emotion. Mother has continued the forging. I’m not really surprised. This is what we were meant to do, what we were raised for, all we’ve known. The women of the Runil family hammer metal. We are the mothers of sword and shield for Hunter’s Hamlet.
But the relief of knowing she carried on, even without me, staggers me for a moment.
I head back to the hidden door behind the smithy, overwhelmed with nostalgia. It feels as though I just locked this door, bidding the silver within to stay safe over the night of the Blood Moon. I’m half expecting Drew to walk in for our training as I spin the tumblers on the puzzle lock. The code hasn’t changed and the lock comes undone.
I wouldn’t dare to leave a written message. I don’t even think I know how to write enough words to tell Mother all that’s happened. But I can’t leave without putting her worries to rest. I take a small bar of silver and turn it perpendicular to the others, resting it right at the top of the stack.
You must keep the silver tidy, Floriane, Mother would instruct.It is rare. Sacred. We keep it safe. We respect it and pay honor to it at every step of our process.
She hammered those lessons into me, time and again, until the silver was always lined up just so. But once she finds this bar so out of place, she’ll know. It’s a message only she can read behind a door that only I could unlock. “I’m alive, Mother,” I whisper. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”
I lock up and leave.
“You get what you needed?” Ventos has taken to standing just off the street under a doorway, out of the moonlight.
