Bright, indigo light cascaded toward the world below. It illuminated everything with the clarity of a bright, sunny day.

A pathway emerged from the mouth of a forest with swaying trees. Hedges with white leaves bordered the pathway for a kilometer or two, and the pathway cut left into a clearing, stretching towards what appeared to be a giant oak tree, albeit the leaves were white as snow, and the wood black like charcoal. The pathway diverged from this tree, spreading to several houses, each of them colored white, with windows accented black or red. Every house was accompanied by small plots of land where the vegetation was somewhat reminiscent of what one would see on Earth.

Further down the path, directly north of the great oak-like tree, stood a single church, two stories high and surrounded by beautiful purple flowers. The bright red doors depicted what looked like the antlers of a giant deer, with a halo of shattered stars above it.

Ewan emerged from the forest, with his blade in his right hand. He quickly noticed the path cutting left and headed for Hilda’s house, which ended up being a black, two-story home with windows on the second story that looked like ominous eyes peering down. An arch with a rectangular overhead formed a hallway that led up to the double-door entrance of Hilda’s home.

Ewan stopped to look at the plots of wheat that flanked the house, but the grains were a deep, almost crimson red. He debated tasting the wheat but decided against it. So, instead, he simply approached the door, opened it, and showed himself in.

Ewan entered the house and stepped over a light yellow rug with diamond shapes spreading from its center. To his left was a staircase that ascended and bent right before going to the second story. Directly in front of him was the dining area, showcasing a large wooden table, with a black wood stove nearby. Plates and cutlery were laid out on the table, with a single candelabra as a centerpiece, the candles partially melted from prior use. On his right, he saw the house stretch into a hallway that eventually curved left. He went down that hallway, and he saw that there were two doors, one to his right and one at the end of the hall. He opened the door to the right.

An open window bled indigo light into a room where ropes tethered on each corner of a king-sized bed suspended it from the ground. A chest sat at the front of the bed, beneath it was a rug made of the pelt of a small animal. There was a chair to the left of the bed, accompanied by a small table, adorned with a single, unlit candle and a bottle of alcohol. A set of drawers accompanied the leftmost wall, with an ornate egg sitting on top, and above there was a painting of sunrise illuminating an incomplete house.

Hilda's father, Clay, was an elderly man with withered, white hair. His face was devoid of many wrinkles, and he slept peacefully on his bed. Two blankets were pulled over his body, and he snored peacefully, like a man without a care in the world.

Ewan walked in and closed the door behind him, making his way to the seat near the bed and sitting down.

You look like you’re sleeping well, old man.

Ewan smiled. He placed the blade on the table and leaned forward, watching the rhythmic motion of Clay’s breathing.

Hilda and her father must be on good terms. I always wondered what it would be like to have a good father in my life. Even with my mom, we weren’t on the best of terms. I cared for her deeply but… we could never find a middle ground.

The wind moaned lightly outside, and Ewan’s hair fell in front of his face, his eyes growing dark.

Can’t blame my mom though. It’s my fault. While she was still alive, I should have told her how I really felt. The thing is, she always gave so much, so it felt like it would’ve been wrong for me to complain.

The indigo light bled further into the room, casting long shadows as the gradient of light changed.

The way I saw it, back then, was that if I loved her, then I should show that by never complaining… and now, it’s too late. It might be too late for me and Iona, too. There are so many things I need to do, so many things that were left unsaid. I need to fix them, but now I’m here… and I don’t know if I’ll be able to—

Ewan’s eyes grew wide as he saw a shadowy figure emerge from nothingness. It had its back turned away from him, fixated on Clay. The figure extended a scraggly, clawed hand towards Clay’s face.

Ewan grabbed the blade but the figure swept around and smacked him with enough force to send him reeling to the ground. He felt like his bones were on the verge of breaking, his breath knocked out of his lungs.

It pounced on him, lowering its horrific visage to his face, its empty eye sockets boring into his soul, and it bellowed like an alligator, opening its mouth to reveal rows of shark-like teeth.

Ewan drove his knife into its throat, making the creature recoil in shock. He took that perfect opportunity to drive his foot into its stomach, kicking it away.

He scrambled up and saw the figure convulsing as the knife thrummed and glowed a slight red.

Part of him told him to run away, but a bigger part of him told him to attack, so he dashed forward and drew the blade from the creature’s throat.

The creature fell over and dry heaved, the blood pouring from its wound, spilling onto the floor.

Ewan drove the blade into its body over and over and over and over again, rivulets of ichor flew like droplets of rain, splattering the bed, the floor, and his clothes as he stabbed the creature to death, his arm shaking from the impact, his eyes in a crazed frenzy.

The figure stopped moving, the pool of blackness spilling from the perforation in its body, but Ewan kept going until he was physically unable to. When he finished, he staggered beside the table, set the blade down, and fell onto the floor. He let out an exhausted breath and listened to his blade thrumming with power, glowing an even deeper red.

But the blade eventually stopped, and when he had recovered some of his stamina, he rose to his feet, turning to see Clay, who was sleeping peacefully with a smile on his face.

“Damn dude. I wish I could sleep as good as you do.”

Then he turned his attention to the creature, a humanoid-looking thing with a desiccated musculature, the skin tight over its bones. Ewan hadn’t read too many fantasy novels growing up, but he had played some video games. Unfortunately, none of that applied to this situation, so he ended up checking its pulse.

There was no pulse, but…

I can’t be too careful. This thing’s body probably doesn’t work the same way a human’s or even an animal’s does, so…

Ewan took the knife, and he sawed through the creature’s neck, carving through its flesh like tofu. It didn’t take Ewan long to realize that no knife he’s ever held had been this sharp.

He did the same to its hands and feet, the ichor ruining his clothes.

I’ll bury this damn thing once Hilda gets home. Can’t risk another one of those things attacking while I’m outside.

Ewan set the severed parts to the side, and returned to his seat, his eyes looking heavy. He set the knife down and pondered why he could see it and Siri couldn’t. He started tapping his right foot in sync with his own breathing, patiently waiting for Hilda to come home.

The puddle of ichor dried into a black paste by the time Hilda walked in, opening the door unannounced to see the carnage in the room, the blood on the floorboards, the tired man sitting near her father, and the body nearby.

Ewan looked at her, and then at the beast, and then back to her. “It came out of nowhere, literally.”

“Fuck me,” Hilda said while making her way to Ewan. “You saved my dad.”

She smiled at him with a budding tenderness in her eyes. “Thank you so much. I completely misjudged you earlier... please accept my apology.”

“Now you know what I'm good for,” Ewan said. “I don't hold any resentment toward you or anything. I'm happy that your dad is okay.”

She rested her hand affectionately on her father's head. “Me too...”

Ewan felt a warmth wash over him as he observed Hilda's love for her dad, but the corpse of the monster arrested his attention.

“I'm impressed that you were able to kill a familiar,” Hilda said. “There's more to you than you let on.”

“Are those like magical creatures that help witches?”

“I don't know too much about familiars. Most gods have a catalog for how their magic operates, but Lilith remains elusive to anyone who's not her follower.”

Ewan didn’t say anything. Instead, he got up and gestured to the seat. Hilda smiled and took his offer.

“I got lucky,” he said. “When it first appeared, it didn’t even register me as a threat. It only attacked after I came after it.”

“What I know about witches is mostly hearsay, but I heard that if a witch is weak, they can only assign their familiars to a specific task.”

Hilda took a cursory glance at Ewan's weapon. “Sick blade by the way. Very, uhm, aesthetic.”

Ewan looked at the blade. “You can see it?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Siri can't see it, but you and I can.”

“Interesting… I wonder what the properties of that item are, but that’s your business. I won’t pry too much.” She got up and took a closer look at the corpse, and as she did so, the indigo color in the room shifted to a subtle red. “She must have been siphoning my old man’s vitality, which would explain why the doctors couldn’t pinpoint a diagnosis.”

“The thing came in the dead of night. Could the culprit be someone in this village?”

Hilda got an inch away from Ewan’s face, her eyes fierce. It was as if Ewan’s words had spurred something within her, as if it had challenged her own integrity.

Ewan didn’t say a word.

“I grew up here,” she said. “Don’t you dare think bad of my home, of my people.”

“I’m just trying to he–”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “If someone here had it out for my old man, I’d know about it. So do us both a favor and fuck off.”

Ewan changed, a spark of anger that overshadowed Hilda’s own. She noticed this in an instant, so she stepped back and sat down.

“Thank you for your help…”

Ewan’s eyes softened a bit. “Thanks for the work.”

“We can let the church deal with this. Now that we have actual evidence that an outside factor has caused my father’s condition, they should be responsible for cleaning this up.” She decided to stretch a bit, inadvertently lifting her shirt to show a nice, toned stomach. “But let’s take this outside in the meantime. Then we can clean the blood off of the floors. No need to worry about waking him up,” and she pointed at her dad. “This guy can sleep through sky quakes.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And then when we’re all done, we can hit the bath afterward.”

Ewan took a moment to process what he had just heard. “I’m… not taking a bath with you.”

“What’s the big deal? As long as you respect my boundaries, there’s no reason why we can’t bathe together.”

Ewan’s cheeks adapted the slightest shade of pink. “My girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate me getting naked with another woman.”

“Oh, so that’s what your deal is,” and she stared him down, a playful smirk on her face. “You do well for yourself. I’ve gotta hand it to you, you’re more impressive than I gave you credit for.” She then whispered in his ear. “We can keep it between us. She’d never have to know.”

Ewan gently removed himself away from her.

“Daaaw, is that a no?”

Ewan hoisted the familiar’s body over his shoulders and left the room.

Half an hour later, Ewan was alone in Hilda’s bathroom, sitting upright against the edge of a rectangular pit filled with soapy water. Light steam issued from the bath, causing his skin to flush a slight red. He sighed happily, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

His dreams drifted to a distant memory, back when he and Iona had their first apartment. The curtains were drawn shut, the only light coming from the kitchen, where Ewan added two cans of crushed tomatoes to a pan of sizzling onions and garlic. He added some tomato puree, mixing it into the blend. Turning for the salt, he saw Iona, dressed in a purple nightgown, tired with a smile on her face.

She sauntered to the counter and embraced him. “I know you and her haven’t been getting along, so thanks for doing all of this.”

“I’ve been friends with her longer than you, babe. I’m not the one with the problem,” he reached for the salt and pulled away, adding it to the sauce. “She’s the one with the problem.”

Iona placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s not fair.”

“Iona, it is two-twenty in the fucking morning. I should be in bed, but instead, I’m in the kitchen cooking my mother’s best friend’s cousin’s pasta recipe.”

“You sound… upset.”

“I am upset,” and he gave her his full attention. “That’s not to say I’m not supportive of what Ana is going through, but she needs to take her anger out on the person she’s actually angry with, not me.”

A pot of water boiled, so Ewan added salt.

“You two used to be so friendly with each other…”

“Sometimes people grow apart. It is what it is.”

“But you should make an effort to connect with her again. She’s been there for you before, hasn’t she?”

“You’re right… I just need time. I need time away from who she is now, and especially her psycho fuckboy boyfriend.”

“I think… you should also… try connecting with him, too. Maybe you can be a little nicer? I don’t like the guy either, but I do it for Ana. She wants her friends to support her relationships, you know this. So why don’t you be the bigger man?

The mood of the room completely changed. There was an almost tangible animosity in the atmosphere.

“I’m not trying to be buddy-buddy with a guy who beats women.”

“Oh babe, can we not do this tonight?”

Ewan opened a drawer and procured some pasta. He opened the box and added the noodles to the boiling water, and then he stirred the sauce and lowered the heat. He didn't face Iona. “You tell me you tolerate him for Ana’s sake, but that’s not how I see it.”

“I don’t like where this is heading…”

“That night you never came home. You were with him. Why?”

“Can we please change the subject? I don’t feel comfortable talking about this right now.”

“Whenever I choose to open up, you run away.”

Beneath his angry eyes, there was a deep sorrow and longing, but he didn’t say a single word. He left Iona, standing there alone.

The water in the pot boiled over.

Ioana sighed and reduced the heat on the stove. The pale moonlight filtered through the curtains, and it started to snow outside.

The last thing Ewan remembered was being at his mother’s grave, surrounded by frosted trees, holding a bouquet of flowers, while the snow fell around him. He set the flowers down, and the starlight breached through the clouds, shining down on him like silent, heavy rain.

Ewan woke up, his body flushed from the heat. He dried off and clothed himself. As he was getting dressed, the door opened, revealing Hilda in a short leather skirt and a loosely fitted shirt. Ewan waved to her.

“You’re still here.”

“I dozed off for a bit,”

“Come sleep in a proper room,” and she lifted her shirt and pulled out an envelope with a blue wax seal, flapping it in his direction. “But before you go to bed, let’s get to know each other a bit more.”

Ewan took the letter from Hilda. “Thank you.”

“You’ve earned it,” and she made her way to the door, walking slowly and methodically.

“Before I head out, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“The church can handle it. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Hilda took her leave and Ewan followed her, closing the door behind them. They made their way to a guest room, on the second story of the house, a cozy space that was faintly illuminated by the light outside, the curtains halfway closed. They walked to the bed, which was centered beneath the curtains, and Hilda pointed to a nightstand, which had a crystal sitting on top of a bunch of interconnected rings.

Hilda snapped her fingers, and the crystal hovered above the rings, humming lightly. The surface of the crystal shimmered, and light sprung from its center, illuminating the room as if it were a large campfire.

Ewan smiled like he was a giddy child.

Hilda sat on the edge of the bed. Ewan sat next to her, placing the letter on the nightstand.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“What’s your opinion on the local church?”

Hilda tapped her cheek twice, her eyes looking up and away. “Anwyn has always been good to me, and that’s really all I need. What about you? What god have you sworn fealty to?”

“When it came to higher powers, I could never make up my mind.”

“I hope you find one for you. A man without a god is like a fish without water.”

Ewan smiled at that remark, but there was no happiness in his eyes. “Did you choose your religion, or was it something your parents decided for you?”

Hilda let her body hit the bed, placing both her hands behind her head. “My parents chose it for me, but I’ve been happy with it. I had the opportunity to choose other options, but I never felt the need to.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Parents generally want what’s best for their children, don’t they?”

“Well, hypothetically speaking. If a parent doesn’t communicate, how can they know what’s best for their child?”

Hilda took a moment to think, “I… know that not everyone has a good relationship with their family. I think the mistake that parents make is that they want to believe that a blood relation and an intimate relation are the same thing, but they’re not.”

“Yeah, that makes perfect sense. We’re on the same page.”

“Oh yeah, what you feel is valid, dude, but if even one of your parents raised you, you need to be grateful.”

“I get where you’re coming from,” he said. “But if anyone chooses to have a child or more, it’s their responsibility to be a parent. A child gets no say.”

Hilda sat up and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “And you’re not wrong. I’m not even disagreeing with you, but a parent who stays is better than a parent who leaves.”

“You’re a lot friendlier now. What’s up with you?”

“It’s important for women, no, wait… it’s important for people to size other people up. I didn’t know what you were good for, but I’ve got a better sense of you now. So, naturally, it’s easier for me to open up to you.”

“How quaint.” Hilda elbowed Ewan in the stomach. He didn’t flinch.

“Why’d you hit me?”

Hilda flopped onto her bed, laying on her stomach. “No one likes to be rejected.”

“Feels bad.”

“You’re never going to get another chance with me.”

“Damn, that’s crazy.”

Hilda curled up. “You’re lucky. I even wrote you a stupid letter. I coulda gave you your keep and sent you on your way.”

“You’re right. Thank you.” “You’re literally the only man to ever turn down a proposal from me.”

“Good for you.”

“Rejection kinda sucks. I don’t like it that much.”

“Builds character.”

“Thanks dad,” and she grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

Ewan looked at her and smiled.

She unfurled herself, stretching on the bed. “Speaking of which, he’ll definitely want to meet you. If you left without him getting a chance to thank you, I’d never hear the end of it. I love my dad, but I’ve got enough on my plate.”

She repositioned herself so that she was standing in front of Ewan, leaning forward so that her face was almost level with his. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. I know we started off a bit rough, but I’m hoping we can be friends.”

The light flickered and dimmed.

Ewan smiled.

They stared at each other for a moment, basking in the silence.

“You should get some sleep. It may be a long day tomorrow.”

She left him alone then, to his own thoughts, his own devices.

Ewan snapped his fingers and was bemused that the crystal responded, floating down to rest on the interconnected rings. The light vanished like a candle being snuffed out. He drew the curtains close, got in bed, and did his best to fall asleep.

Kyokai’s throat, a calm river that split the land in half, created a border between two territories. A stone bridge crossed the river, connecting the countries together. Flowers shaped like bells bloomed along the riverbank and bridge, each of them ringing like wind chimes as they glowed a fading blue light.

On the left side of the bridge was Cottonheart, a village that sprawled with life. The lights broke through the fading night, while people flooded the streets, flowing from one building to another. Gossip and songs flowed like a river, while children played like they didn’t have a worry in the world.

But everyone avoided the bridge.

Almost everyone.

A child ran to the bridge, but he was stopped by several people. His eyes grew wide as the strangers took him back.

In the distance, Chlo, a middle-aged woman with black hair and black eyes, wearing a blue dress, called out to her son. “You are never to cross that bridge.”

The people parted from the child, like a school of fish evading a predator. Chlo picked her son up and walked back into the village pulsing with life.

“Why not, mommy?”

“You need to pay more attention. Everyone knows why you should never cross this bridge.”

The child reached for the bridge, unable to grasp it in his hands. “But sometimes I see people cross from the other side, and sometimes people cross over… why can’t I?”

“I’ll tell you again when we’re back home.”

The child frowned. He hated that answer, but he wouldn’t tell that to his mother. So all he could do was look at Northwich, the other village across Kyokai’s throat. There were no lights, and no people minging about. There was nothing going on.

That place was as quiet as a grave.

“Mommy, I think I see someone. She’s waving at us.”

“Pay no mind to the people as Litchfell,” and her eyes grew incredibly dark, like a soldier with a thousand-yard stare. “They’re nothing but trouble.”

The child and his mother eventually faded into the crowd.

Siri stood with her hair fluttering in the breeze, her body seemingly obscured by the darkness of Northwich. She brushed her lush, green hair from her face as Lundon appeared beside her.

Lundon wore a form-fitting black shirt that was tucked into her black skirt, complete with black stockings that had avian motifs. Her hair was undisturbed by the breeze as if it flowed around her rather than past her. “Did... anything interesting happen while you were on the other side?”

“It’s almost silly that you’d even ask me.”

“I was just trying to have some small talk with you.”

Siri walked away from her friend, away from the village lights, and deeper into the dark embrace of Northwich. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s hard to be happy right now.”

“I’m not asking you to be happy with it. But if you fixate on the end result, you’ll be miserable.”

Siri stepped on a dead plant, and they continued down a road flanked by tall, gloomy buildings. “I’m already miserable.”

“She tried to send goods to her family, and her associate was caught. It wasn’t long before he traded his life for hers.”

Siri stopped walking. “Did they even let the guy live?”

“Of course not…”

“What a fucking waste.” Siri felt the tears well in the corner of her eyes. “So where’s she now? What happened to her?”

“She’s in holding, at Jilosi…”

“...if they already have her, why were we even involved?”

The wind surged past them.

“You know the answer,” Lundon said. “Our duty is her death. The supreme leader has chosen us.”

Siri lowered her head, and her hair fell over her face, concealing everything but her frown.

Lundon remained stoic, showing no emotion on her face or in her eyes, like a cold and calculating machine, but inside she felt for her friend. But she had no further words for comfort, so she waved her hand and the shadows around them twisted into a circular formation that started to spin counterclockwise. The shadows became opaque as the formation rose from the ground, forming a cylinder that enveloped them both. The cylinder moved without making a sound.

Then it dropped like a curtain, and the two women were gone.

A flourish of white flowers blanketed the facade of a tall, dark building. Slivers of rose-colored light illuminated a beaten path that led toward an assembly of gnarled trees, forming an almost rectangular perimeter around the property.

On the inside, the light from the outside world splayed through the stained glass windows, sending fragmented rainbows over the rows of wooden pews that flanked a wine-colored rug that ended at a gilded altar. On either end of the altar stood wooden figurines, each of them holding a censor that burned an incense that smelled of cut roses.

A middle-aged man built like a linebacker, wearing a tailored pink and black suit, prayed at one of the pews, his grizzled hair falling over his face.

The doors to the room creaked open, and a young, fair-skinned woman with brilliant blue eyes and short, wavy blonde hair, wearing a white, button-up shirt and a flowing, blue skirt walked into the room. While she dressed modestly, it could hardly conceal how well-endowed she was. She made her way over to the man. “I thought you might be here.”

He opened his blood-red eyes, but the color turned into a soft gradient that quickly shifted into a light brown. “What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You can at least try to sound like you’re happy to see me.”

“I am trying.”

She sat beside him, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her lap. “Ram requested that you do her commission.”

He stopped praying. He faced the woman while the light shined between them.

“She doesn’t make requests often,” he said. “Does this have to do with Charlotte’s miscreant?”

She smirked. “No, not Char. It’s about Hilda. Something about her old man and some mystery illness. I guess it’s been going on for some time now. She wanted to commission you sooner, but, well, you know what happened.”

“We should kill Jacob. Damn child is a menace to everyone.”

“Yeah, even Chlo’s been thinking about it. Hopefully, it’ll happen soon, but that aside, are you going to accept her commission?”

He rose from the pew, towering over the woman.

She looked at him with a friendly, albeit slightly fearful, smile.

“Why didn’t Ram come to me personally?”

“You’ve never been the easiest person to get a hold of.

He headed for the entrance. “I’ll get started immediately.”

She watched him go, allowing herself a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. Now that she was alone, she redirected her attention toward the stained glass and the light draped over her body like intangible silk.