The Sunday Market was a spectacle of stalls and tents which popped up in the center of Bramblebog on weekends.

As Raziel’s mother dragged him through the market, dark expressions locked onto them. Villagers gave them a wide berth, almost tripping to get out of their path, as if Raziel carried an incurable disease.

Isara Ravenbone [Maid] stopped at a stall with fish hanging from rafters. “Two marks for the gaptooth trout? The big one.”

The fishmonger slowly took down the slimy, nut-brown trout, his gaze never leaving them. “You sure you want the big one? I heard your family’s one short now. Less mouths to feed.”

His mother’s expression went cold. “Nothing happened to my niece.”

“People are sayin’… well…” He glanced deliberately at Raziel.

“Spit it out,” said Isara.

By now, news of Kindred’s disappearance had spread through the village like wildfire. When Raziel’s cousin never returned to the party, Aunt Mielle and Uncle Callum frantically organized a manhunt. This exposed a new problem. A second kid was also missing. Raziel Ravenbone.

When Raziel scraped himself off the shed floor and trudged to the Ravenbone cottage, a small army was waiting for him, and they all had questions. He answered truthfully. The issue? No one believed a word he said.

Raziel’s fists clenched tighter at the memory, his knuckles blanching paper-white.

The kind, pure-hearted [Mayor]’s son, and the other True Family boys couldn’t possibly have pressured Callum Holt’s only child into entering the Dark Forest.

No. It had to be Raziel’s fault.

After all, wasn’t Raziel a wild child who loved wandering around the Dark Forest? Weren’t all Ravenbones evil dark arts practitioners? In other words, untrustworthy and the scum of the earth?

Aunt Mielle had come forward and quietly admitted that Kindred had been talking about leaving Bramblebog for a while. Otherwise, Raziel’s body might be full of shrapnel right now.

The fishmonger shrugged with false nonchalance. “People swear the Holt girl and that kid went into the Dark Forest together. And only he came back out. Did somethin’ to her.”

Isara grabbed the trout from him. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. Kindred left the village because she wanted to travel the world. It’s only a shame her dramatic exit caused everyone to worry.”

‘She didn’t leave!’ Raziel wanted to cry out. ‘Her room is still full of packed bags!’

Raziel could see the deciding and the weighing in the man’s eyes. Not for the truth - no, Raziel was strange, and he had strange red eyes, of course he was guilty - but for whether offending Isara Ravenbone was worth the trouble. After all, she was a paying customer.

The fishmonger scrubbed his fingers through his tangled beard then accepted the iron coins. “Aye. The Holt girl isn’t known for thinking things through.”

Isara kept the wicker basket at her hip, her eyes forward. Not once did she look at her son.

////

That night, Ferrin Ravenbone [Tinker] caught Raziel leaving the cottage. A rifle too large for Raziel’s frame was strapped to his back. Every knife in the house was attached to his belt.

“Where are you going?” asked his dad smoothly.

Raziel glowered at him. “I’m going to search the forest for Kindred. She’s still out there. I know she is.”

The man’s jaw ticked. “Your cousin left the village. Let her go.”

His blood boiled in his veins. This lie. Why was everyone repeating it? Why didn’t his own family believe him? He was there when it happened! “She didn’t!” he spat. “Something happened to Kindred in the forest. She could still be out there, waiting for us to rescue her! Don’t you care about her at all?”

Both Raziel’s parents and Kindred’s parents acted so defeated. Weren’t they supposed to love and care for her? Why weren’t they throwing themselves into the Dark Forest, doing everything they could to find her? It was pathetic. It was disgusting.

The thought of Kindred, cold and scared, slowly dying somewhere made his heart clench in agony.

The being he’d run into wasn’t a beast. It was a spirit. When it came to spirits, there were many different types, and they all had different motives. There was a real possibility that the spirit had simply stolen Kindred’s face and dumped her somewhere.

Or maybe the same mysterious force that had saved Raziel had also saved Kindred.

Ferrin took Raziel by the shoulders. Gray met red. “You said you trusted me. Trust me now. Kindred left, okay?”

Raziel jerked his shoulder out of his father’s grasp. “Coward.”

“Listen to me! Raziel!”

“It’s easier for you if Kindred snuck out of Bramblebog, isn’t it? That way, you don’t have to confront Olster and his friends. Everything can stay the same.” Raziel glared at his dad from the corner of his eye. “Do you even know what they really thought of her? They hated her. She was half Ravenbone, and they never let her forget it. They wanted her to die.”

For some reason, Ferrin burst out laughing. It was a crazed kind of laugh. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Just trust me, Raz. Just keep on trusting me for a few more years. Then, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Raziel grit his teeth. “Whatever you have to say… I don’t want to hear it.” He left the house and his father didn’t even try to stop him. The man was chuckling so hard he had to grab the door frame to steady himself.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Raziel didn’t find Kindred that day.

Or the next.

//

There was a gaping hole in the Ravenbone household where Kindred used to be. A wound that Isara Ravenbone couldn’t mend, or that Ferrin Ravenbone couldn’t hammer shut with iron nails. Kindred’s memory haunted every crevice of the home. Instead of wild laughter, there was the sound of the shutters creaking as a breeze blew past. A month after Kindred’s disappearance, Isara still cooked food for four bellies. The spare bedroom remained untouched. Kindred’s clothes hung silently in the closet, and her school books were strewn across her desk. No one had come in to re-cap her lipstick, or tidy her bed, or wash the window where she had finger-drawn a bird into the glass.

Kindred hadn’t been with the Ravenbones long, but it had been long enough.

Every night, Raziel waited patiently for his parents to fall asleep. Once his dad started snoring, he counted from zero to one-thousand, and then slipped off into the Dark Forest with only the moon as his witness.

He trudged through the undergrowth until the canopy turned black and then he went further still.

The air was cold and clammy like a ghostly breath. Gnarled trees reached for him, their twisted fingers snagging on his clothes. Silvery moonlight twisted in strange patterns on the forest floor. There were shadows for things which didn’t exist. Voices on the edge of hearing beckoning him deeper into the woods.

Raziel didn’t move rashly. He watched and he waited. He only walked when the wind rustled the leaves, and he learned to step in a way which didn’t leave footprints. He memorized every sound of the forest, and its every silence. When the crickets stopped chattering, Raziel held his breath as to not produce even the slightest sound. When the crows fled, he knew to flee with them.

Every night, Raziel searched the Dark Forest for his missing cousin.

He couldn’t describe it in words, but he knew Kindred was still out there. He could feel it in his bones. He felt her in the breath of the forest. The voices, sometimes, sounded like his cousin asking him to find her.

She wasn’t dead.

All he’d seen was a monster wearing her face.

Aunt Mielle had become a trembling recluse, only leaving the house to attend church. Raziel was Kindred’s only chance. He’d save her from the spirit, bring her back home, and everything would be back to normal.

Aunt Mielle would strut around the village again, doing the thing she loved most - showing off and making other women jealous. His parents would be able to smile freely again. Best of all, Raziel and Kindred would find those True Family boys and make them pay.

He just needed to find her.

//

A spray of dirt flew across the forest floor.

Raziel’s features contorted again and he kicked the ground a second, a third time, taking his frustration out on the loam under his shoes. Breathing heavily, he stared at the silver constellations overhead, his red eyes burning eerily bright.

“Kindred, where are you?”

As the nights grew longer he felt her presence less and less. The whispering had new things to say, promising power and endless riches, if only he would step deeper into the darkness. Even the Dark Forest was forgetting about her.

A painful thought occurred to him - that maybe she had died the day of the [Mayor]’s party, and he was chasing echoes. Raziel shook his head, refusing to believe it. If Kindred was disappearing then he needed to work even harder to find her. How could he live with himself if he didn’t bring her back?

He should’ve punched the beast wearing her face, demanding it to return her back.

He should’ve… he should’ve been stronger.

Why had she run into the Dark Forest alone? Raziel paused, a sick feeling in his stomach. She wasn’t alone. Kindred had the Beast Card. Maybe having the card gave her a sense of confidence, maybe -

Raziel shook his head.

His senses were duller than they needed to be. Dark, bruise-like crescents marred the skin under his eyes, and he looked sickly pale. Night after night of poor sleep had taken its toll.

After warring with himself, he decided to head back to the village, helplessness in his heart like a black blade.

When he was nearly home he stopped in his tracks.

Through a curtain of trees, a bonfire blazed. A group of figures in hooded black robes stood around it, talking in low voices. There was a very sinister air about the scene.

There were many dangers in the Dark Forest, beasts and spirits only being one of them. Some said the biggest threat in the forest were the people hiding inside. Outlaws, dark arts practitioners conducting horrible experiments away from prying eyes, and other such heretics.

But this was so close to Bramblebog. These figures had to be from Bramblebog itself.

Raziel trained his ears, trying to catch their conversation. Hushed tones slip-sided over him like fallen autumn leaves. At this distance he should’ve been able to understand them, but he couldn’t. Against his better judgment he slid closer, so close the fire glowed hot on his skin, and flecks of dying embers shot out like pellets.

“-baptism is no longer enough. The spirits devoured the girl the moment she left the village border. We need a stronger ritual than this,” one of the figures [Rancher] murmured, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Complain later. The moon is almost in position."

"Yes, Benedict’s instructions were clear. We cannot afford any mistakes."

“Quickly. They’re coming.”

“Hold it down.”

A shriek pierced the air. The goat thrashed back and forth, its burbling cries distorting around the silver spear in its neck. Blood, black as night, flowed from the wound and was collected into a silver bowl by a kneeling figure [Hunter]. Raziel backed away, his face twisting in horror and revulsion.

Faded green serpent tattoos curled up the kneeling figure’s hands and arms.

Uncle Callum?

Bile rose in his throat and the world felt like it was spinning.

He feverishly started recognizing the figures by the way they held themselves and the classes floating above their heads. Most belonged to a True Family. A few didn’t. The only people he couldn’t place were those who kept very still and very quiet, not even clearing their throat, or sniffling their nose, and had the default class of [Bramblebog Villager].

A procession of smaller figures walked up, hoods drawn tight. The smallest one was half as tall as Raziel. The rotund [Mayor] gathered them together.

Kicking its legs one last time, the goat slumped over. Rancid black liquid matted its gray hair. Coin-slot eyes stared dully, unblinkingly in Raziel’s direction. White maggots squirmed in its wound, multiplying and falling to the ground.

The animal was all dried out. It looked like it had been dead for a week.

“With dying blood and breath, I invoke the name Asteron,” the figures chanted as one, low and guttural. “With dying blood and breath, I invoke the name Phegor. With dying blood and breath, I invoke the name Noz-Yogath. With dying blood and breath, I invoke the name Barbaros!”

Raziel’s heart leapt in his throat as mana flooded the area. It tasted like rot on the back of his tongue, choking, cloying rot. All the hair on his body stood up. A visceral need to escape clawed through his insides. If they discovered he was spying on them… he forced his body to step backwards - it was hard, so hard - like his bones had rusted over.

No.

No.

A thick pillar of flames roared into the sky.

“Four Fallen Kings, bless our children!”

Suddenly, from behind, a calloused hand clamped over Raziel’s mouth.