The meat is skillfully cut by the hands with calluses of the priest. Slicing it into adequately sized pieces, and placing them in the wood-fired oven at the back of the temple's interior. "I will be eating today, and there are those who will not because of me," Gregory thought. The warmth from the wood-fired oven radiated a comforting sense of home, while the flames danced in the background, reflecting in the deep eyes of the priest.
After finishing the cutting, he headed to the oven, opening its iron door with a gentle creak. He carefully placed the meat inside, closing the door. The kitchen, despite its simplicity and evident signs of wear, remained standing, resisting the passage of time and the hostile climate. The walls, made of old wood, carried the stories of those who lived in this place in every groove and every mold stain that bloomed in the less ventilated corners. Still, the environment did not succumb to decay.
The countertop, also made of wood, showed signs of continuous use: cuts, burn marks, and stains from meals prepared there. The utensils, although not many, were carefully organized so that none would be lost or broken.
The only sound filling the kitchen was the soft crackling of wood in the oven and the wind outside. The place would have continued like this, until Gregory hears the footsteps of a child entering the place.
"Mila, what are you doing here?" Gregory asked, approaching the child. "Go back to Isabel, tell her the meat will be ready soon."
"I know Gregory, it's just that..." Mila says, her light brown hair falling in waves around her face, reaching her shoulder. "It's just that I miss you. I miss you..." Her blue eyes fill with water at their corners.
"Mila, you don't have to cry, okay? I'm here," Gregory says, picking her up. "Look, I'm making food for us, okay?" The priest points towards the oven. "It will be ready and delicious soon, don't you think?" He opens a silly smile on his face.
"I love you, Gregory," Mila says as she hugs him tightly and buries her face in his shoulder. With Mila still in his arms, Gregory turns his attention back to the fire crackling in the wood-fired oven. With a gentle gesture, he runs his hand through Mila's hair, caressing her head. The movement is calm, almost reflexive, as the priest watched the flames.
"I love you too, Mila," Gregory says as he puts her down. "Go back to Pavel, Anya, and Isabel, and tell them I'll be there soon, okay?" The priest then gives her a kiss on her forehead.
The little girl then runs out of the kitchen along the corridor that would lead her to Isabel. The priest listens to her muffled steps becoming smaller as she moves away, until silence takes over the place once again. For a few moments, Gregory remembers his life before all this.
"I miss the green fields around Sarkovia, the warmth of the sun, the smell of flowers, the good music that played at night."
"Gregory, do you need help?" Isabel asks, entering the kitchen. "I can help you carry the dishes and cutlery."
"I appreciate it," says the priest. "Isabel... Having you here is a comfort to me and the children. Thank you." Gregory hesitated to say this, but his voice was firm in the end.
"You don't have to thank me, Gregory. After what happened to my mother..." Isabel tightens her hands a bit. "I thought it was the end, but you showed me that this world is fleeting and gave me hope for better days after... death."
As the kitchen returned to its usual state of silence, Gregory and Isabel shared a moment of quietude, an introspective pause that seemed to suspend time. The only interruption came from the soft crackling of the wood in the oven, a constant sound that served as background noise for both.
After a few minutes, Gregory took the first step, breaking the silence with the sound of his steps towards the oven. He carefully opened the door, and the heat emanating from inside seemed to dissipate the cold that had lodged in his bones. With a thick towel, he carefully removed the tray with the meat, exhaling an aroma that filled the kitchen and promised a dinner they hadn't had in months.
Isabel, in turn, approached with a bag of grains she had brought, opening it to reveal its humble but nutritious contents.
"Take this, it will be good for the children," said the healer. "It's not much, but I'm sure it will help."
"Anything is of great help, Isabel." Together, they began to organize the meal. Gregory placed the pieces of meat on worn wooden plates. Isabel, by his side, carefully distributed the grains next to the meat, creating a simple yet appetizing presentation. As she put the remaining grains on the last plate, the priest interrupts her.
"I don't eat grains, this plate can be for me." He gently holds her arm.
"Stop it, Gregory. You're going to eat too," Isabel responds before putting grains on his plate as well.
Gregory and Isabel prepared to bring the food to the children. They picked up the wooden plates, carefully arranged with generous portions of the cooked meat and the nutritious grains. The priest, with his robust stature and firm hands, balanced two plates on one arm and held the other with one hand, while Isabel complemented the load with the remaining plates. Together, they moved with a calm synchrony.
"Thank you very much, Isabel," the priest says as he leaves the kitchen. "Without you, I would have taken longer."
The walk to where the children were waiting was short. The temple corridor, illuminated only by the dim light of candle lanterns hanging on the walls, echoed with the sounds of their steps.
As they approached, the sounds of laughter and low conversations became more audible. The aroma of the food spread ahead of them, announcing their arrival before they even entered the room.
"Gregory!" shouts Pavel excitedly for the food, beginning to stand up to run.
"Don't run, I'm coming to you," the priest stops him. Quickly, the plates with food reach the children sitting on the benches of the sanctuary in front of the altar of Markhal. Although the stained glass was not well lit at night, the thirteen-pointed sun with a smile on its face could still be seen. Its eyes were open, and it gave the impression that it was watching everyone.
Isabel and the children begin to eat, even without a table present, using their laps as support for the plates. "The food seems to be really good," Gregory thought before taking his first bite. As soon as he puts the piece of meat in his mouth, the juiciness, flavor, and smell take over his senses, filling him with satisfaction.
A vision crosses his mind. Children, adults, and the elderly in Krasnaya Truda going hungry because hunting is not allowed. Unnoticed, his face is taken by disgust and sadness.
"Gregory, are you okay?" Isabel whispers, sitting by his side.
"Yes, I am," the priest says before continuing to eat. "The food is really very good, I missed a meal like this, didn't you, children?"
"Yes, Gregory, we have to eat like this every day," says Mila. "When I lived with my dad and mom, I almost never ate meat, only eggs."
"Are we going to eat like this every day now, Gregory?" asks Anya, her blond hair swinging with the movement of her head.
"Well... I don't know if every day, but for the next few days there will be meat," says Gregory. "But don't tell anyone about this, okay? This is our secret." The priest puts his index finger in front of his mouth.
"Will... will Rudy eat?" asks Pavel, hesitantly.
"Yes, after I finish I will give him food. He needs to have strength to fight now," says Gregory with a serious face.
"But don't worry, I'm sure he will get better soon..." Isabel tightens her hands. "I'm sure." Everyone continues eating until the silence is broken. "Gregory, can I see Rudy after eating?" asks Anya.
"As soon as he gets better, okay?" Gregory responds. "For now, I still want to be more sure of what ailment afflicts him." "Today I will find out, but why do I feel that I will not like the answers?"
After the exchange of words, the meal continues in a family atmosphere. The sounds of wooden cutlery and plates softly echo in the sanctuary, accompanied by the murmurs of the children as they eat. The environment is calm, with each one savoring the meal.
Gregory observes the children, a slight smile touching his lips as he witnesses the simple joy that food brings them. He eats with a thoughtful slowness, not rushing to satisfy his hunger. Beside him, Isabel eats with a calm grace, occasionally casting friendly glances that left room for something more for Gregory.
The plates begin to empty, and satisfaction is drawn on the children's faces. Mila is the first to finish, carefully cleaning her plate before looking around, her expression to the priest was one of satisfaction. Pavel, more contained, finishes his meal in silence. "Pavel has been strange for a few days, I've never seen him so quiet and down like this," Gregory thought.
Anya, with her blond hair swinging with her movements, eats quickly, trying to compete with Mila. However, with each bite, she seems to savor not only the food but also the comforting presence of the people around her.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
As the meal ends, Gregory stands up, collecting the empty plates with Isabel's help. There is a feeling of gratitude in the air, a thank you for the food. With the plates collected, Gregory looks at the children, a happiness and sadness.
"Time to sleep," Gregory says with a calm voice. "You need to rest for tomorrow."
"But Gregory... Can't I see Rudy quickly?" Anya asks with concern.
"Tomorrow I will let you, okay?" Gregory responds. "I promise. Today I will take care of him to make sure he will get better."
"Okay..." Anya says with a bit of sadness in her voice, but she understood. As the children disperse through the room, preparing to sleep on the benches covered with cloths, and the two adults return to the kitchen, Gregory exchanges a meaningful look with Isabel.
"Are you going to your house?" Gregory asks.
"Yes, I am," Isabel responds. "Why do you ask?"
"It's already very late, and it's very cold outside. If you want, I can prepare a bed." The priest then puts the dishes by the window next to the counter.
"I would appreciate it if it's not too much trouble," Isabel says with softness in her voice. As the night's silence deepened over the temple, Gregory led Isabel down the corridor towards the children's room. The lanterns hanging on the walls cast a weak but sufficient light to guide them along the familiar path. The sound of their steps echoed softly, accompanied by the rustling of their clothes as they moved forward.
Reaching the door of the room, the priest hesitated for a brief moment, his hand resting on the frame. He exchanged a look with Isabel.
"I'll go in to get the things, everything is in here," says Gregory. Rudyard's room was simple, with few furnishings beyond a narrow bed where the young boy lay. A single candle lit on a nearby table emitted a soft light, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Rudyard appeared to be sleeping, his breathing soft and regular, but his face was red, and he was sweating.
The priest goes to a piece of furniture where some thick cloths and furs were kept, which could serve as an improvised bed without much discomfort. Gregory returns to Isabel with the cloths and a blanket.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get something better, this was all I had," says Gregory.
"It's okay, really," responds Isabel. "The bed at my house isn't much better than sleeping on the floor." The healer pauses. "At least here, I'm not alone..."
"Isabel..." Gregory places his hand on her shoulder. "Whenever you feel alone, please come here. Everyone is welcome in this house, especially you."
The healer just hugs the priest. The candle lanterns illuminating the corridor made their shadows dance on the wall. Her arms were around his body, when Gregory moved, Isabel just tightened her grip.
"Gregory..." Her voice could barely be heard. "I'm scared... I don't know if we'll last much longer here, or if they'll let us die of hunger standing... But I don't want to die. Not here, not like this."
"Isabel, it's okay to be afraid, but we must have faith," responds Gregory calmly. "We will not die here, and better days will come for all of us."
"I hope so..." Isabel lets go of the priest. "I have faith that better days are coming." The priest then arranges a place for Isabel to sleep in the temple, near the children. He lines the floor with several thick layers of cloth and places an improvised pillow of hay for the healer to sleep on. Gregory briefly says goodbye to everyone, as he returns to the temple's kitchen.
As soon as he arrives, he quickly picks up a plate and cutlery he had set aside for Rudyard. Meat and grains, just like everyone else had eaten. The priest approaches Rudyard's room, placing his hand on the doorknob and hesitantly turning it, afraid of what he might find on the other side.
The boy was still there, on the bed, unconscious, as if he were dead. His black hair flowed down the sides of his face. However, his caretaker knew he was still alive. Gregory approaches Rudyard, red as a bell pepper, sweating profusely. The priest lightly places the back of his hand on the young man's neck. "He's burning up, and this fever isn't going down at all. If it continues at this rate, he only has a few days left."
Carefully, Gregory prepared to feed Rudyard, despite the young man's feverish and unconscious state. Placing the plate with meat and grains beside the bed, he fetched a small spoon among the utensils he had brought from the kitchen. With gentle movements, Gregory cut a small piece of meat, mashing it together with the grains to form a mixture that was easier to swallow.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently supported Rudyard's head on his arm, lifting it slightly to facilitate feeding.
"Rudyard, it's time to eat a little," whispered Gregory, although he knew the young man might not be able to hear him. With the spoon, he scooped up some of the mixture and brought it to Rudy's closed lips. There was a slight response; the boy weakly opened his mouth, allowing Gregory to deposit the mixture on his tongue. The priest watched attentively as the child chewed and swallowed, but noticed that his canines were a bit larger than normal.
"Dad... Water," whispers Rudy weakly.
"Yes, Rudy," says Gregory. "Try to eat, you need strength." Gregory continued to feed Rudyard, and from time to time giving him water to drink to quench his thirst. "Eat and drink so you can get strong," the priest thought. After finishing the last spoonful of food, he watched the boy in silence.
"Dad..." whispered Rudyard. "Make the wolves stop howling..."
"What wolves, Rudyard?" asked Gregory. His body felt that something was wrong. "Enough, I'm going to get the book," thought the priest, hoping for any response from the young man, but the boy had passed out. Gregory stands up from his chair, and silently exits the room.
When he's in the corridor, he takes a quick look at the children and Isabel, confirming they are sleeping before entering his room. The priest lights a candle, a single candle to illuminate the entire room. Gregory carefully pushes his bed to the side, before removing a plank from the floor and taking a book wrapped in a black cloth.
The fabric was velvety and quite comfortable. The priest felt some tiny hairs on his fingers. Hesitantly, Gregory begins to remove the cloth, almost as if it were a mummy. Several turns are made until the black cloth began to disappear, and the book could be seen.
The book's skin was old and worn, made of leather. It was visible from above and the side that the pages were thick and yellowed. On the cover, what appeared to be some golden drawing was almost entirely faded.
Upon opening the first page, a text could be read illuminated by the dancing candlelight: "Property of the Imperial Nyx Lancaster family of the North." The priest took great care in turning another page.
A bad feeling took over his body, as if something evil was written in the book. "There's nothing good I can read here, but I need to look for something," he thought as his eyes slowly read the beginning of the next page.
"There are strange things that cannot be explained but in this book, I have cataloged them. The horrors I saw after the fall of the Demon King mark the soul and life of any man. This bestiary serves only one purpose, to warn everyone about the invisible dangers that live in the forests far from society, in places that humans would never look. I hope my words serve as something, and be careful of the horror."
The letters were written in red ink on a yellowed page. A quill pen seems to have been used for the very well-done calligraphy. The priest then begins to flip through the book.
The pages pass through his fingers, while his eyes quickly read whatever is written looking for symptoms similar to Rudyard's. Creatures and monsters, carefully drawn on the pages. Descriptions of their weaknesses and behaviors. Strange symbols representing them.
Gregory's heart beats with force and sorrow, feeling that something bad is about to happen. A malevolent sensation permeates the words read by the priest in the weak candlelight, attempting to corrupt and break him. Each page turned is heavier than the last, with each revealing something worse. He feels the dark presence of the book watching him as he views illustrations of strange, inhuman creatures, as if every drop of his blood deeply fears this horror.
Time passes, maybe an hour or two. The priest, now halfway through the book, flips through the pages quickly, resisting the urge to stop reading when something catches his attention. The drawing of a monster under a full moon, a werewolf, its body sprawled on the ground with its powerful claws digging in. Its eyes are deep and sharp, like those of a top predator, its teeth exceptionally sharp, especially the canines. "Werewolves are cursed by nature, hated by the world for abandoning their human nature and embracing their bestial side. I've encountered a few in my conquests, but they all seemed to come from some barbaric tribe on the island of Gundyr."
The original writings of the first writer end there, but new information has been added to the bestiary by someone unknown. "Lycanthropy comes from two confirmed sources: Gundyr and New Eudoria. The barbaric tribe took advantage of navigation to hide in the new world and form a new cult of monsters there."
Gregory turns the page to continue reading about the creature. "I need to find the symptoms; there must be a way to confirm. Oh Markhal, don't do this." The high fever that never subsides is the body temperature of werewolves. Even when not transformed into a beast, the canines are larger, the tips of the ears may become pointed over the years, and abnormal body hair may appear. A special weakness to silver is also noted, burning the skin and marking it with a scar.
The words weigh heavily on the priest's chest. He closes the book and wraps it again in its velvet cloth before hiding it beneath the floorboards. "There's only one way to confirm now." Gregory then takes a small silver-coated candle holder from his desk, heavy-hearted, and hides it in his pocket. He leaves his room in the dead of night, the outside completely dark with the candles out. "Isabel and the children are sleeping, perfect."
He crosses the corridor to the children's room door, opening it quietly. He enters the room, now lit by a candle at the end with a weak light illuminating the boy's face. The sweat dripping from him, the exhaustion visible on his face. "It's all right, there's no chance it's that. Must be pneumonia or a strong cold."
Gregory sits next to Rudyard in the chair, watching him sleep. Even in his suffering, the priest sees only peace on his face. "Maybe this is the last peace of my life," he thinks before lightly touching the support to his forearm.
For a moment, the priest waits for any type of reaction while keeping it pressed. Seeing nothing happens, Gregory calms down and removes the support from the forearm; only to see a burn underneath it.
For a moment, his fingers weaken, and the candle holder nearly falls before he firmly grasps it again. Gregory observes the perfect burn of a ring on Rudyard's forearm. "He never had that mark; it wasn't there a short time ago," he thinks. The raw, slightly pink flesh is shown to the priest.
"And now? We're all going to die. There's no way to save him. When they find out, they'll kill him," his mind throbs with thoughts of their death. No one would understand, no one would accept. They would all be burned at the stake if Gregory didn't hand him over and someone found out.
After a few long minutes of silence and observation, the priest can't believe what he sees, even though it's real. "There must be some other explanation," he thinks, but deep down, he knows he's right.
Gregory just gets up, keeps the support with him, extinguishes the candle now near its end, and as he leaves the room, he turns to Rudyard. "Good night, Rudy," he whispers.
The priest returns to his room, sits in his chair, takes a piece of paper, some ink, and a pen. Gregory starts writing a letter, correcting every small mistake with more ink. After finishing, he transcribes it correctly to another piece of paper and burns the first under the candle.
"This letter is for you, Rudyard."
A little more than a day passes. Isabel returns for dinner the next evening and again sleeps with the children in the temple. Gregory can't stop thinking about Rudyard for a moment of his day, thinking about what to do to try to save him without sacrificing everything and everyone.
Rudyard's fever hasn't improved at all. "Is it luck or misfortune his survival?" the priest thinks. During the morning, he decides to leave as soon as the sun rises to enter the forest where there were footprints. Even with his body still sore and the cold freezing his bones, a heavy layer of fur protects him well.
Gregory is now just a few minutes' walk from his temple when he notices two people approaching through the trees. A man and a woman, both in the emperor's special forces uniform. The man is injured, and his pants are bloodied. "We're going to die."