Mikhail’s feet dragged with every step he took. It shouldn't have cost him this much energy getting back to the house, but his eyes grew ever heavier and every breath he took drove needles into his lungs and throat. After what felt like a day, he finally arrived. The sun had already set.

As soon as he opened the door, the strange veil was lifted and he stumbled inside. Katya sat in front of the fireplace cradling Nebo.

Mikhail averted his eyes and put pressure on his wound. After a few moments of catching his breath, he started; “Katya… Aleksei, he–”

“I know.” She cut him off. “I’ve known for a while this would happen, though I didn't know how.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but her lips remained still.

He furrowed his brow. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“I can sense things like this sometimes.” She said softly.

Great, cryptic as ever. He sighed and narrowly avoided rolling his eyes at her. Come now Mikhail, show some tact.

Katya’s mouth curled up a bit, but her eyes looked sad all the same. A silence fell.

Rain descended on the wooden cabin, and the gentle crackling of the hearth almost made him feel comfortable.

Mikhail slid himself into the other chair and looked into the dancing flames. He was never one for superstitions and old wives tales, but the things that happened today seriously made him rethink this notion. Had he really hallucinated? Couldn't be, when he got to the house he was fine again. And did he really hear Katya's voice back in the forest? A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed the wound again.

“You’re wounded. Sit here, please.” Katya carefully put Nebo down and motioned to the bed. She put a kettle over the fire to boil some water, and grabbed a few clean strips of cloth out of the closet.

Mikhail groaned while climbing out of the chair and trudged over to the bed. He took off his coat and shirt, then sat down and squeezed his eyes shut, catching his breath.

Katya dragged a chair in front of him and sat down to inspect his wound. “It went straight through, it seems.” She said, gently moving his skin to see if she saw a bullet. “You’ll live, but treating it will take some time.” She looked him in the eye. Those unsettling, almost golden eyes glued to his.

“I want to ask–” Mikhail started.

She cut him off and shook her head. “No questions today. You should rest after I patch you up, tomorrow we can talk.”

That annoyed him a little, but he didn't have the energy to protest too much. “Fine, just one thing though.”

She stared at him, and slowly raised a finger in front of his eyes. “Tomorrow, Mikhail. Now sleep.” She lightly tapped his forehead, and the whole world went dark.

The sun had already passed its zenith when Mikhail stirred awake. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stretched and immediately winced because of the pain in his shoulder. “Fuck…” he muttered.

Images, smells and sounds from yesterday came flooding back. Aleksei had died. He hadn't known the man for long, but he seemed a decent sort and he did save his life by offering him shelter for the night. He stroked his beard and shook his head.

A damn shame.

It took a moment to catch his bearings, Katya was nowhere to be found, and neither was Nebo.

Guess they went out for a bit.

An acrid smell wafted into his nose, and he realized it came from his wound. Katya bandaged it, but apparently she’d applied a salve to thoroughly disinfect it, leaving him to deal with the awful smell. He pulled away the bandage a bit, and inspected her handywork. She’d stitched him up quite well with some guts, it’d most likely heal up quite well. It still smelled and hurt like hell, though.

He put on his clothes, careful not to burden his shoulder too much and stepped outside. Crisp forest air filled his lungs, and the sounds of creaking trees whispered in his ear. Though he still found it peaceful, the events of yesterday had put quite a damper on his growing affection towards the wintery woodland. There were still threats lurking other than the cold.

"Good morning." Katya's voice startled him. “How does the wound feel?”

He looked around and noticed her sitting atop the frozen well with Nebo sitting next to her. Her silver hair almost blended in with the environment if not for the single fiery red streak.

He touched his shoulder. “Better than yesterday, but I probably still shouldn't move it around too much.” He rubbed it gently. “Thank you for your help.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, but remained quiet otherwise.

Mikhail approached her and ruffled Nebo’s hair. Nebo looked up at him, but still didn't talk. Mikhail sighed, and asked; “What happened yesterday?”

Katya looked up at him, one eyebrow arched. “Aleksei passed away, was your head hurt as well?”

“That's not what I’m talking about, though I am very sorry about that.” He averted his eyes and shifted from one foot to the other. “I should have paid more attention, he didn't deserve it.”

Katya rubbed her hand against her heart. “No, he didn't. But all of us have to go at some point, some earlier than others.” She put one hand on Mikhail's shoulder. “But thank you for your words. You couldn't have done anything, it was just his time.”

He nodded. “Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what I meant was what happened after… you know.” He looked at her again, scratching his head. “Oh never mind, I probably imagined the whole thing.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She cocked her head slightly. “No, you didn't imagine it.” She was lost in thought for a moment, then turned around and walked back towards the house. Nebo followed her. When they reached the front door, she waved for Mikhail to follow her inside. “Come.”

He wanted to say something, but then decided against it and resigned himself to following her.

He kicked his feet against the outside wall before stepping into the house. When he came inside his eyes scanned the room, but Katya and Nebo were nowhere to be seen. Perplexed, he stood still for a while until a vague shimmering in the corner caught his attention. His eyes widened. He turned his gaze toward it, but as soon as he tried to focus on what was there, his sight turned blurry and he couldn't make out what it was he saw. He pulled his eyes away, dropped into a cautious stance and tried to grab one of his daggers. He forgot to take them back.

“Calm down Mikhail, it's just us.” Katya said, undoing the hex. It was as if she appeared out of a whisp of quicksilvery smoke. She stepped towards one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and perched down. “Sit next to me, I’ll explain.”

A cold sweat trickled down Mikhail's back. The trembling that ran all over his body had nothing to do with the cold this time. He’d seen many tricks and sleight of hand in his fourty-one years of living back at the Crowery, as well as enough murder, thievery and swindling to last a lifetime. Things no person should have to see, or do to survive. None of those things had ever truly frightened him as much as this.

He took a shaky step back, covering his body a little with his good arm as if to protect himself from whatever this was. “I’ll stay right here.” He said, much less certain than he intended it to sound.

Katya met his frightened gaze. “No, you won't. Come here, sit down, and listen.”

The words reverberated through his bones, and before he knew it he was fixed in the chair, trembling like a whipped dog.

“Listen to me, Mikhail.” She said, still staring at him, unblinking. “I mean you no harm. I understand you're scared, but let me explain.”

Mikhail thought he saw her eyes slightly tremble, but he wasn't sure if he was imagining it.

Calm yourself.

He breathed deeply and slowly, over and over, until he felt the shakiness subside a little and the fog of fear in his mind clear bit by bit. If she meant to harm him, she could have slit his throat last night, or the night before. She wouldn't have treated his wound either, or gone through the trouble of mixing a salve. She wouldn't have hummed tunes, or looked after Nebo every moment of the day either.

She squinted her eyes slightly. “Have you calmed down?”

He nodded, but it cost him a lot of willpower to even manage that.

Katya sighed. She blinked once, and one of her hands shot up to her eyes, shielding them from the light. Behind the cover of her hand she clenched her teeth together and hissed painfully. Mikhail felt his muscles relax, as if he had been a mere puppet and his strings were just cut by an invisible knife.

It seemed her hold of him vanished as soon as the eye contact was cut. He looked at the silvery haired woman cautiously, but made no further moves.

Katya removed her hand and steadied her breathing.

“Give me a moment, please.” She said, her voice slightly raspy. “It puts an enormous strain on my eyes when I do this if someone is particularly unwilling to do something.” After a few minutes, Katya seemed somewhat back to her normal self, though she still made a weary impression.

“I’m sorry for doing that,” she said, turning her eyes to Nebo. “but-”

“Don't look at the boy.” He growled. “Keep your eyes locked on anything but his or mine. I’m warning you, from this distance I could snap your neck before you even uttered a single letter.” His entire body tensed. He saw a flicker of hurt cross her face and somehow a pang of regret rose in his chest, but he couldn't take the risk right now.

“I understand your mistrust.” Katya almost whispered. “If you want, you can blindfold me, but please let me explain myself.”

He looked around and saw the cloth strips on the table. Next to them were a knife and a bloodied handkerchief. His blood. She most likely cleaned his wound with that before bandaging it. Guilt washed over him again, but he decided he had to be sure of Nebo's and his own safety for now, as her eyes were too much of a risk.

He yanked one of the cloth strips off the table and motioned for Katya to come closer. She bowed his head towards him, shutting her eyes. Carefully, he bound the cloth strip twice around and fastened it at the back of her head.

His heart sank. Looking at her like this reminded him of certain things he didn't like remembering. He sighed, and buried his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. “Speak.” He said.

She thought a bit before speaking. “I’m what you would call a witch,” She said. “though where I’m from they call my kind Arcaneborne.”

Mikhail tensed. Normally, he would've burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he just heard, but he had experienced the things she could do for himself. He’d seen the shroud cover the forest and heard her voice enter his head. He had seen her appear out of thin air and he had felt the hold she had on him.

So she was a witch. An Arcaneborne, whatever the hell that was. He composed himself and asked: “What exactly do you mean by ‘Where I come from’?”

“It means I’m not from this world. I came here from my own, because I had to flee.” She said.

He squinted his eyes. “Why did you have to flee?”

Katya stroked Nebo's hair, comforting herself as much as him. She turned her face away from Mikhail.

“My eyes.” She said. “Even among the Arcaneborne, an Ocularus is a rare and sometimes hated sight.”

Mikhail nodded and ran his fingers through his black hair. The silence was deafening. “Go on.”

“The Ocularii are known for having the ability to command people when they lock eyes with them, which makes them mistrusted. People generally don't like having their free will taken from them, as you-” she made a gesture to Mikhail. “-have just experienced yourself.”

Mikhail glared at her. “It’s a disgusting feeling. Don't do it again.”

“I promise, I won't. I’ve expended too much energy anyway, so I couldn't do it even if I wanted to.” She said, a wry half smile forming beneath the blindfold. “That's the thing, because we're so rare, nobody knows much about us. Others think we could command a man to take his own life, and he'd do it without question.”

“You can't?” Mikhail cocked an eyebrow.

Her half smile widened. “Do you think I could? I just made you sit down, shut up and listen and you saw how much pain it caused me.” She shook her head. “No, ordering a man to end his own life would either blind me, kill me or drive me insane. Or all of the above.” She paused. “Some could do it, but those are far stronger than I am.”

Mikhail wasn't fully convinced. He knew there was a good chance she was telling the truth, but he knew too little of what she spoke of to trust her just yet. She and Aleksei had been kind to him up until now, but trust is built in a matter of years, not days. He slouched in his chair, Katya wasn't the only one with a headache.

What was he supposed to do? If he wanted to make sure he and Nebo would be safe, he could just cut her throat right now and be done with it. It's what he would've done in the past, no life is worth more than your own, after all.

He wrung his hands. His heart pounded in his chest, and with every heartbeat the headache became worse.

He scanned the room that'd been his home for the last two days to clear his thoughts. The hearth, the strangely well-made painting, the terrible carpet, Nebo in Katya's arms. The old worn-out table, the strips of cloth, the bloodied handkerchief, the knife.

His eyes lingered on the knife before looking at Nebo, unbothered and comfortably snuggling up to her.

He closed his eyes, and with a sigh he reached out his hand to remove Katya's blindfold. No life was worth more than your own, but looking at Nebo made him realize that that might not be true anymore. Maybe Katya’s was also a life worth sparing.

He looked up at her eyes. They were bloodshot, and the golden glow he'd seen earlier had faded to a more subdued amber shade. She hadn't lied, somehow he felt it. She was completely exhausted.

“Don't make me regret this.” He said, looking away. “My head is killing me. Let's get some rest and tomorrow you can tell me all about where you come from, I don't think my brain could handle it right now.” He got up and grabbed his daggers, then walked back to the bed.

“Mikhail?”

He sighed and turned around. “What is it?”

“Thank you for trusting me.” She said, bowing her head slightly. “I won't let you down.”

He lay down and shrugged. “We’ll see.”