Red-violet petals washed over the leaves of a great quickthorn tree. The tree stood in the center of a small clearing, sporting its unique color against the warm colors of autumn. Its branches wrapped around the roof of a small hut, which nestled its walls up against the trunk.

An eerie mist lingered in the warm air that drifted through the clearing, especially over the small creek that led us to this unnatural glade.

“Have your legs turned to stone? Hurry up and get inside before your heart petrifies.” Wary steps carried me toward the man who beckoned me into his home. In stark contrast to his silky skin, raggedy clothes hung on this thin frame. The style was similar to the clothes the villagers wore. Green moss and odd feathers wove themselves into his dark hair.

“How do I know I can trust you?” I replied.

“Makes no difference to me, I always wanted a lawn ornament. If you’re going to stay out here, then do me a favor and strike an intimidating pose. Having a templar knight at my front door might help keep the wolves away.” Without another word, he turned and entered his hut.

A tree in full bloom just before winter, strange mist, and warmer air all marked the enchantments in this place. No evil brushed against my senses, but my condition left me unable to tell if they were just ill curses in clever disguise.

Another few steps closer brought a myriad of strange scents to my nose. They weren’t unpleasant, but I didn’t want to imagine what they could be. A strange symbol blackened the wooden door. I recognized it as an old ward against evil, from a time before the gods of light came to save humanity from darkness.

My eyes wandered to my left hand. Stone scales already coated my fingers where skin once was. Moving it was becoming more difficult as the stone rooted deeper. My good hand rested on the hilt of my sword as I took the final step inside.

The hut was small. A bed rolled across the floor in one corner. Jars full of strange powders and liquids sat on shelves which lined the walls. The healer sat on a cushion near a table, working to grind something in a stone bowl.

“Take off your shirt and sit down.” He commanded without even looking up.

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I did as instructed, sitting down on what little space there was next to him. The petrified scales were tighter together and thicker the higher up my arm they were. Already, my shoulder looked like smooth marble.

He examined my arm carefully, and began to spread a strange, red paste over the stone. When he leaned close to coat my shoulder blades, my whole body began to heat up. The strange chemical brought some feeling back to my limb, and I could move my fingers more easily.

“This will hurt,” he said.

“What,” before I could finish my question, he ripped the fang out of my shoulder. My yell echoed in the tiny hut. The pain faded quickly as he blew some blue powder onto the wound.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t reverse it completely. I can only stop it from spreading and make it so your arm will move normally again.” The warmth in his voice was surprising. Genuine regret replaced the sarcasm he had greeted me with.

“What is this stuff you used?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer. Part of me still suspected the dark paste was made from some manner of dark ritual.

A wicked grin spread across his face, which inched very close to mine. “What if I were to tell you that it's made from the blood of innocent children and ground bones retrieved from an old grave?”

My back hit the wall as I shot backwards across the floor. Glee lit up his face, and a hearty laugh ripped from his throat. I began to draw my sword from its sheath.

“Relax,” he chuckled. “It’s just berries and petals from the tree outside. The quickthorn tree is sacred to the aes sídhe, and can cure most of their poisons.”

“And what magic have you used to make the tree bloom even as winter creeps closer by the day?” I demanded.

“I’m sure you saw the mist outside? That’s fog made from the hot spring bubbling behind my house. Years of warmer, wetter air has confused the tree. It never blooms at the right time of the year anymore. Last year it bloomed twice.”

Fear and adrenaline ebbed slowly from me. His words made sense. Like the symbol on his door, the man seemed to know a lot about the old ways of the druids.

He might not have been aes sídhe, but druids could be just as dangerous. While not inherently evil, they learned their craft from the fairies and quickly became corrupted. Most of their knowledge and ways were banned from the holy empire.

“And what kind of herb did you use to save me from the witch?” I knew it had taken more than an herb to clear my lungs of the dying witch’s ashes. Knowledge of herbs was not forbidden, but the old rituals certainly were.

His moss green eyes looked right into me. His hand rested on the amulet, letting his fingers brush against my chest. My ear tingled as he whispered, “Are you afraid I’m going to eat you?”

Laughter once again rang from his throat as he stood up from our spot on the ground. Panic rose again through my core. Even with my amulet on, I wasn’t able to move with him so close to me. What kind of enchantment had he used that my amulet couldn’t protect me from? This man was still hiding something.

“You should go take a bath in spring. There’s a lot of iron in the water, it should help loosen the joints in your arm. When you’re done you should return to the village before night falls.” He opened the door, making it clear it was time for me to leave.

I had no proof that evil lurked in this tiny forest hut, and he did save my life. I decided to leave my investigation alone for the time being.

“Thank you,” I paused.

“My name is Glyn. Glyn Dhu.”

“Arlyn.”