The first rays of dawn pierced through a canopy of trees and gently illuminated the sleepy cabin nestled at the edge of the forest. The morning air was crisp and filled with the soft chirping of birds.
Amelia stepped out of her modest home carrying a basket brimming with freshly washed clothes. She hummed a gentle tune as she hung the garments on the line.
As she reached for another article of clothing, the rustling sound of wings drew her attention. She turned her head just in time to witness a portly crow, its feathers gleaming a deep jet black, alight on the grassy patch a few feet away. A creature whose ominous presence preceded him.
Amelia felt a shiver run up her spine. "Shoo! Get away!" she exclaimed, waving her hands in an attempt to scare the bird off. The crow's beady eyes narrowed as he hopped closer, seemingly undeterred by her efforts.
Suddenly, in a swift and unexpected move, the crow darted forward and pecked at the back of her hand. Amelia gasped, jerking her hand back as a sharp pain blossomed. A line of crimson welled up where the crow's beak had broken the skin.
"You wretched bird!" she cried, cradling her injured hand. The crow in response, merely let out an irritated caw before flapping his wings and taking flight, disappearing into the canopy of the trees.
With a resigned huff, Amelia took one final glance at the sky before turning away to enter her home. Inside, she rummaged through a wooden cabinet, finally producing a small tin of ointment. She sat herself by the window, as she applied the soothing salve to her hand, wincing occasionally as the sting subsided.
As she tended to her wound, an uneasy feeling settled in her chest.
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The door behind Amelia squeaked audibly as Damian entered. A rabbit-like creature with a blue colored coat was dangling lifelessly from his grip, its fur matted with the evidence of an unfortunate encounter with a hunting trap. Stepping into their home, a triumphant yet weary smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Looks like we'll be eating like royalty again tonight!" he announced, satisfaction quite evident in his eyes.
Damian placed his prey onto a roughly carved table, quickly turning his attention to Amelia who was seated nearby, while her face grimaced in pain.
"Oy, let me take a look," he said, noticing the ointment. Extending her arm, she displayed a wound smeared with pungent salve.
Grabbing a rough bandage, he carefully wrapped it around her injury.
With the bandaging done, they turned their attention to preparing a meal while holding a small conversation. He deftly skinned the rabbit-like creature while she prepared a kettle and some aromatic herbs, moving fairly efficiently despite her discomfort.
As the kettle began to whistle, the air filled with the scent of herbs boiling inside of the water. Damian spoke, "I was thinking, maybe we should head into Rhysling. Get a few chickens, we could start a small coop. It'd make things a bit easier…"
She paused, contemplating the idea. "It would, but with the changes the Empire is pushing, it could be a hassle to get in. Remember? The coins are being replaced with some kind of promissory notes. We don’t have any of those yet."
Damian grunted due to her reminder.
Their conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence afterwards, each absorbed in their tasks. In their small corner of the world, there was nothing except enjoyment for peaceful routine and the other’s company.
Their fire crackled, the smell of cooked meat mingling with the earthy aroma of herbs, anchoring them in the present moment.
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As the sun climbed higher, the couple finished their meal. Amelia wiped her hands on her apron and stood up, stretching her back before glancing at Damian.
"Let's get back to the garden," she said.
Damian nodded. They stepped outside, their tools already leaning against the cabin, ready for work.
The half-prepared garden lay before them, rows of soil turned but not yet ready for planting.
They dug and tilled, their efforts bringing order to the patch of earth that would soon enough, bear the fruits of their labor.
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Time passed by, the sun reached its zenith and cast sharp shadows across the ground. Sweat glistened on Damian's brow as he straightened up, shading his eyes with a hand.
"Let's take a break," he suggested.
Amelia nodded in agreement, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. They trudged back to the house, running away from the midday heat.
As they neared their home, the crow from before landed on the roof, shaking his head as if mocking them.
Damian's expression hardened. He bent down and picked up a stone from the ground. Without hesitation, he hurled it at the bird. The stone sailed through the air with surprising accuracy for an impulsive throw.
The crow let out an indignant caw as he dodged the projectile. His feathers ruffled in anger as he took flight again, disappearing into the sky with a furious flap of wings.
The couple retreated into their home once more.
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Twilight painted the sky in hues of purple and orange.
Their gentle talk filled the room.
Damian leaned back in his chair, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Wonderful dinner," he said, grinning at Amelia.
She smiled back, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes. "You know," she began hesitantly, "I've been thinking about us expanding our little family."
Damian's grin widened. "Really? You mean...?"
"Yes," she nodded, her voice softer now. "I think it's time."
The conversation quickly took on a more passionate tone, words mingling with laughter and shared glances that spoke volumes.
Dinner forgotten, they moved toward the bed. Clothes came undone with eager hands; the air grew thick with tension and desire.
Damian leaned down to plant gentle nibbles along Amelia's neck. Her eyes fluttered closed in pleasure until a strange breeze brushed against her skin. Her eyes opened and shifted toward the door.
There, standing in the doorway, was a figure draped in a high-quality robe that swayed slightly as if caught in an invisible wind. His presence was an intrusion into their intimate moment.
Amelia gasped, pushing Damian away slightly as she struggled to comprehend the apparition before her. The robe's rich fabric and intricate patterns were definitely out of place in their home.
Whoever he was… he simply stood in the doorway, the soft flutter of his robe the only sound breaking the silence. His eyes, deep pools of darkness, scanned the room with dispassionate curiosity. The intimate scene before him didn't faze him; such moments were mere trivialities in his world.
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The man moved quickly towards them, his gaze penetrating and unnerving, taking in every detail of Amelia's reaction with an unsettling calmness.
A flutter of wings announced the crow's arrival. The portly crow landed on his shoulder, feathers ruffled with indignation. With an accusatory squawk, he pointed a wing directly at Amelia.
His voice cut through the room like a blade. "Mistreating Nyx, were you?"
Amelia's face turned ashen, her mouth opening and closing in shock.
Damian's reaction was more immediate. He scrambled off the bed, eyes wild. Grabbing a clay mug from the nightstand, he charged at the intruder with a yell that echoed through the small cabin.
The mug shattered against Silas's head, shards scattering like confetti. Silas didn't flinch; instead, he moved with a swift grace. His hand shot out and closed around Damian's neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
"This," Silas rasped, his voice a chilling sound that filled the room, "is a language I am much more proficient in."
Damian struggled, feet kicking futilely as he gasped for breath.
Amelia screamed from the bed, pulling the sheet over herself as if it could shield her from the terror unfolding before her eyes. Her cries echoed off the walls, mingling with the crow's triumphant caws.
The man tightened his grip, watching Damian's face turn red with veins bulging on his forehead.
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Soon enough he made himself at home, moving with a casual air as he approached the table to finish off the half-eaten meal left there. Each bite methodical, almost ritualistic, as if nourishment was secondary to the act itself.
As he eats, he unrolled a piece of parchment, its surface covered in strange symbols and intricate diagrams of the human body. The parchment was a manual of some kind, a rare and esoteric artifact based on its quality, the man seemed to be studying it with keen interest.
Nyx, planted himself in front of the man. The bird squawked insistently, wings flapping with a fervor that demanded attention. The man, without breaking his contemplative gaze from the manual, reaches out to scratch Nyx on the head. The gesture is both affectionate and absent-minded, a practiced routine between master and familiar.
Nyx satisfied for the moment, allowed the man to move towards the pot suspended above the fireplace. The stench of the room meanwhile was a pungent blend of corpses and blood.
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He pulled out a bundle of herbs and a murky glass phial, placing the herbs into the pot and letting them simmer throughout the night.
He cleared the bed of the unfortunate souls, climbing atop and settling into a meditative pose, letting the rhythmic bubbling of the concoction lull him into a state of focused tranquility.
Hours pass, and a foggy morning arrived, the air heavy with the scent of dew and decay. The pot began to behave strangely; the violet, smoky liquid within started to swirl with a life of its own, defying gravity as it flowed seamlessly into the phial in front without spilling a single drop or wisp of vapor.
Routinely to him, the man picked up the now-filled phial. He then exited the cabin, each step eerily silent on the wooden floor.
Nyx, his vindictive crow, flapped his wings with a quick, ferocious intensity at the fire inside.
The flames in the hearth roared to life, greedily catching onto the wooden furniture, casting a sinister glow that danced in his dark eyes. The crow then followed the man, landing gracefully atop his master's shoulder, singing a hauntingly happy song that broke through the morning mist's quiet. The man walked away without a single backwards glance, the cabin behind him transformed into a blazing inferno.