Page 110 of Blood of the Fairest

Nixie souls carry a strong sulfur scent, yet I find no traces of it here.

Strange. I have never come across water in this forest without nixies plaguing it.

Why is this wicked wood withholding its many horrors? Where are the mists of blood, or the ravening trolls, or covens of witchfolk dismembering the dead for their bones? Given how far we have ventured into these cursed trees, I should already be dripping with the gore of hostile monsters.

Eris must find this as unsettling as I do, for I hear his perturbed hum.

Meanwhile, Verena grins up at me. "I'm sorry, did you just sniff the air?"

I realize my hand is still holding her close. Her floral scent and sparkling eyes fill my chest with a warmth I long to bask in.

But this is not the place for it.

Reluctantly, I release her and step onto the bridge first, testing it before continuing on.

"A huntsman knows his tricks."

"If you say so, Fido," the otherworldly woman shrugs as we journey down the path, which is now nearly impossible to make out. "Merrick made this place sound like a living nightmare, but so far it hasn't been that⁠—"

She cuts off abruptly with a gag, covering her nose and mouth.

I know why. I can scent the blood, too, but it is not human. It is the rotten stench of monster blood.

A moment later, when we turn around a bend in the wood, the source is clear.

Ida's cottage is nestled between the trees, just as small and comfortable as I remember despite its new Loomdark surroundings. The cottage is made after the manner of homes in Isenmere, with colorful exposed timbers and a mirror affixed to the front door—only that mirror is now cracked, the door left ajar.

On the steps leading up to it, a leibwraith's head lies, dripping with freshly spilled blood. Its body is several paces away, hacked to pieces.

Eris must know of these blights. The moment he glimpses the decapitated monster, he swears and vanishes from my axe. He must be searching the reflections within Ida's home to determine what I already know to be true.

That old woman would never carelessly leave her door open.

Ida was consumed by the leibwraith.

Verena covers her face to hide from the gore she loathes.

"That is the ugliest fucking wolf I have ever seen. Look at the size of that thing's ears, and those bulging eyes? Ew."

"It is not a wolf," I say, stepping in front of her when I scent more monsters nearby. Already, my hands are itching to spill blood. "It is a leibwraith."

"A what now?

"A soul-consumer. It takes the form of sharp-toothed beasts, but leaves its prey conscious and whole—physically alive, but soulless. Leibwraiths always travel in packs," I add, drawing my axe.

Eris reappears in the axe I hold, his voice alarmed.

"The old woman lies soulless in her bed, but she is not alone. A red-hooded child stands in there with her. She must have killed that leibwraith, but now her soul is also gone."

"Holy shit," Verena gasps, uncovering her face.

My gaze locks onto the eyes of another leibwraith, prowling silently through the dark forest toward us. Another creeps in behind it.

Twigs crack elsewhere. I roll my shoulders back, preparing to fight.

We're surrounded, meaning I will soon spill a great deal of blood.

As much as I shall enjoy the inevitable slaughter, it almost certainly means my curse shall seize control.