The forest was a place of silence, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. It had an oppressive stillness, a void that made even the faintest noise seem amplified. Adelheid stood in a small clearing, the pale moonlight filtering through the skeletal branches above. Her cloak billowed faintly in the breeze, her hands tucked into its folds as if to guard against the cold. But it wasn’t the chill that made her posture stiff—it was the anticipation.

She didn’t wait long.

From the shadows emerged a figure, her steps noiseless on the frozen ground. Mary, cloaked in red so vibrant it seemed to bleed against the dark forest. Her face was pale and angular, her movements unnaturally smooth, like a predator who had long perfected the art of the hunt. She stopped a few feet away, her ember-like eyes glinting in the dim light.

“Adelheid,” Mary said, her voice light and sweet, but with an undercurrent of malice. “I didn’t expect you to come to me so soon. Desperation makes fools of us all, doesn’t it?”

Adelheid stiffened but held her ground. “You agreed to help me. This is no time for games.”

Mary’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I always help, in my own way. But let’s not pretend you’ve come here for anything noble. You’re not looking to save those children.”

Adelheid’s jaw tightened. “I’m looking to end their suffering. There’s a difference.”

Mary tilted her head, studying Adelheid with the curiosity of a cat toying with its prey. “Is there? Or are you simply looking to end yours?”

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Adelheid’s hand clenched within her cloak. “You know what I need. The wolves won’t touch them as long as I’m alive, and even if they did, they’d make too much noise. Ruprecht would hear it, and the fool would rush out to save them. No, I need… precision.”

Mary stepped closer, her smile widening. “And you thought of me. How flattering.”

“This is no indulgence, Mary,” Adelheid said sharply. “It’s mercy. Quick. Painless. They’ll think it’s the forest that claimed them, and their father won’t have to suffer the truth.”

Mary let out a soft, lilting laugh. “Oh, Adelheid. Always so pragmatic. And what do I get in return for this little service of mine?”

Adelheid’s expression didn’t falter. “What you always want. Their blood.”

Mary’s eyes glimmered, her smile taking on a sharp edge. “And what of the bodies?”

“Return them,” Adelheid said firmly. “Ruprecht will need proof. Make it look like a bear did it. Quick, brutal. He’ll grieve, but he’ll believe it.”

Mary’s smile faded slightly, replaced with something more serious, though no less predatory. “And you’re sure he won’t question it? Men are simple creatures, but even they can sense when something is… off.”

“He won’t question,” Adelheid said, her voice steady. “He wants to believe in something—anything—that absolves him. Give him a tragedy that makes sense, and he’ll cling to it.”

Mary was silent for a moment, her gaze piercing as if searching for cracks in Adelheid’s resolve. Then she nodded slowly. “Very well. I’ll do it. But understand this, Adelheid—mercy is not in my nature. I’ll do it my way, and you’ll have no say in how it’s done.”

Adelheid’s lips pressed into a thin line. “As long as they don’t suffer.”

Mary’s laugh was low and cold. “Oh, they’ll suffer less than you, I promise.”

Adelheid turned to leave, her cloak swishing through the frost-covered underbrush. But Mary’s voice stopped her before she could disappear into the trees.

“You know,” Mary said, her tone light but her words dripping with venom, “if you’d only let me handle them sooner, you could’ve spared yourself all this trouble. And them.”

Adelheid didn’t respond. She vanished into the shadows, leaving Mary alone in the clearing. The goblin’s smile returned, wicked and full of anticipation.

“This will be fun,” Mary murmured to herself, her ember-like eyes glinting in the dark. “Fun indeed.”