Day 5

I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. Yaga’s warnings about questionable things sniffing my blood magic filled me with a maddening sense of urgency.

I needed to protect myself, and I needed to do it now.

Remembering what Yaga had said about the Zemy’s Band banners, I realized I had a potential solution right at my fingertips. The village had been home to hundreds of people, each family likely possessing at least one of these protective tapestries woven by girls on the cusp of adulthood.

Without wasting another moment, I grabbed my earth-filled backpack and set out into the ruins of Svalbard. My breath danced in the cold air turning white as I moved from house to house, searching for the telltale signs of the Zemy’s Band banners.

In the first home I entered, I found two banners hanging on the walls. They were beautiful works of art, each unique in its design but all sharing a common thread of intricate patterns and symbols woven into the fabric. I carefully took them down and rolled them up, placing them gently in a sack I had brought for this purpose.

As I moved through the village, I found more and more banners. Some homes had three or four, while others had only one. Some had older banners hidden inside dusty chests. I took them all.

In what must have been the home of the village elder or the hall of records, I found an entire room dedicated to these tapestries. The walls were adorned with dozens of Zemy's Band banners, each more intricate and beautiful than the last. My heart raced with excitement as I realized the treasure trove I had stumbled upon.

I carefully and quickly removed each banner from the wall. Some were clearly ancient, their edges frayed and colors faded, while others looked fresh and vibrant, likely woven by the most recent generation of young women in Svalbard.

I had noticed the banners before but paid them no mind as I was unaware of their value. Now that I was looking at them up close, they didn’t seem to be damaged at all by dragonfire.

As I filled my sack with banners, I couldn’t help but wonder about the stories behind each tapestry. Who were the girls who had woven them? What hopes and dreams had they poured into each thread? And more importantly, how exactly did these banners ward off malevolent entities?

I spent the day combing through the village, collecting every banner I could find. By the time I finished, my sack was bulging with rolled-up tapestries.

Returning to the pub, I felt a sense of accomplishment and, more importantly, a glimmer of hope for my safety. Once inside, I hammered nails into walls and covered every available surface with the banners, making the pub look like some sort of a bizarre textile museum.

Science: 3, Paranoia: 2, Interior Decorating: -5

I mentally tabulated my personal score.

Was banner hoarding science though? It's not like I made the banners, but then again many scientists simply made discoveries based on the discoveries and tools of others that came before them.

Some of the banners were definitely hanging a bit lopsided.

“Well,” I muttered to myself as I admired my banner fortress of absolute safety, “if these banners work as Yaga advertised, then I should be the most protected witch in all of Thornwild. And if not, at least I’ll have the most festive death in history.”

“I do wonder if these things stack? Like, do more banners equal more protection, or is it a one-and-done deal?” I mused aloud as I made myself dinner. “Eh can’t be too paranoid when your magic blood is basically Jotun-chow.”

. . .

After filling my belly with another portion of dry meat and pickled vegetables, I turned my attention to the banners adorning the walls of the pub. My curiosity about their protective properties had been gnawing at me since I’d hung them up. With mild trepidation, I retrieved my makeshift Astralscope and settled down to examine the tapestries more closely.

I started with the oldest banner I could find, its edges frayed and colors faded with age.

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Peering through my Astralscope/microscope combination, I expected to see something extraordinary, perhaps shimmering motes of light or shadowy forms like I had observed in my blood. To my disappointment, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. The banner remained just that - an old piece of fabric.

Undeterred, I moved on to examine other banners, working my way through the collection from oldest looking banners to newest. Banner after banner yielded no results, and I began to feel a creeping sense of doubt. Had Yaga been exaggerating the power of these tapestries?

Finally, I came to the newest banner, its colors still vibrant and threads unmarred by time. As I focused my Astralscope on its surface, I noticed something different. It wasn’t the dramatic revelation I had hoped for, but there was definitely... something.

A faint, blurry, microscopic shimmer seemed to hover just above the fabric, like heat rising from sun-baked stones. It was barely perceptible, and I found myself squinting and adjusting the lenses repeatedly, trying to bring it into focus. But no matter how I tried, the effect remained stubbornly unclear, dancing at the edge of visibility.

I set aside my tools. The faint shimmer I’d observed on the newest banner was intriguing, but I couldn’t help feeling that I was missing something crucial.

I sighed, setting aside my Astralscope and rubbing my weary eyes. Feeling frustrated, I turned my attention to the pile of books and scrolls I had salvaged from the ruins.

Picking up the first tome, I opened it eagerly, only to be met with an incomprehensible jumble of symbols. I flipped through page after page, hoping to find something I could understand, but it was no use. The writing system was completely foreign to me, a stark reminder of the gaps in my knowledge of this new world.

Undeterred, I moved on to the next book, and the next. Every volume presented the same challenge – rows upon rows of indecipherable text. Alas, my Master could not teach me to read for she too was an illiterate witch.

Just as I was about to give up, I came across a large, leather-bound book that felt heavier than the others. Its cover was adorned with intricate embossing that depicted what looked like stylized beasts locked in combat with men wielding long spears.

Intrigued, I carefully opened it.

To my delight, this book was different. Instead of dense text, its pages were filled with detailed illustrations.

These weren't just simple sketches; they were detailed, almost lifelike depictions of creatures that seemed to have sprung from the darkest corners of imagination.

The first image that caught my attention was of a massive, hulking beast with the body of a man fused somehow to the body of an elk, grotesquely distorted, stretched and misshapen. Its head bore enormous elk antlers, and its hands - of which there were six - ended in wicked claws. The creature's eyes, even in the illustration, seemed to hold a terrible intelligence. Below the image, a single word was written in an alphabet I couldn't read, but I knew instinctively that this was a Jotun.

Turning the page, I found myself face to face with a creature that seemed to be made entirely of shadows. Its form was vaguely humanoid, but it lacked distinct features, appearing more like a hole in reality than a physical being. Tendrils of darkness swirled around it, and the artist had somehow managed to convey a sense of cold dread emanating from the figure.

The next illustration showed a being that appeared to be half-woman, half-tree.

As I continued to flip through the pages, my eyes widened at the array of fantastical and terrifying creatures depicted within. One illustration showed a beautiful woman with emerald skin, writhing snakes for hair, her gaze so sharp that I found myself momentarily frozen. The caption beneath, though unreadable to me, likely identified her as some sort of Medusa.

Other Gorgon-like things followed, each more bewildering than the last.

Another page revealed a massive serpent, its coils seeming to stretch beyond the confines of the illustration.

Another revealed a girl that was half human half cat, her silver-blue eyes slitted like a pair of diamonds. She was wearing a simple pale dress. Unlike the other beasts she didn't look spooky, just harmless and cute.

I turned the page to find a creature that appeared to be made of living flame. Its form was vaguely humanoid, but its body flickered and danced like a bonfire. Where its eyes should have been, there were only pits of intense, white-hot fire.

The last page of the book depicted a pale, wrinkled woman wearing a skull mask, wearing a dress made from red-tinted bones. I could guess that the label beneath tagged her as a Volva-Yaga witch.

I shut the book with a shudder. Why was my Master wearing bones? Was there some sort of magical protection within such?

There was an old animal bone within my pile pilfered from the tannery. I picked it up and examined it. It was becoming crystalline too, albeit quite slowly.

Remembering Yaga’s instructions about sinking into the earth for protection, I decided to give it a try. I walked onto my pile of blessed earth and plants, feeling slightly ridiculous as I prepared to attempt this feat.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, “here goes nothing.”

I lay down on the earth on my back, spreading my arms and legs out as if I were making a snow angel. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on the feeling of the soil beneath me. I imagined myself becoming one with the earth, sinking down into its protective embrace.

Nothing happened.

I opened one eye, peeking around the pub. I was still very much on top of the earth mound, not in it.

“Come on,” I grumbled, closing my eyes again.

This time, I tried to visualize the process more vividly. I pictured the earth softening beneath me, welcoming me into its depths, hugging me. I even wiggled my fingers and toes, as if that might help me burrow down somehow.

Still nothing.

Having given up on further earth-diving attempts I manually buried myself in cosy, blessed soil, hoping that my witchy Master would provide me greater insights tonight to work with.