Page 230 of Vasmora

I pushed my way through the crowd, snatching one of the torches from a spectator. At his altar, Sacton Crain stood beside Governor Grimsby, a smile on his face as he stared over what must’ve been the entire village of Foxglove.

At a tight grip of my arm, I swung around to find Moros clutching me.

“Let go of me!” I growled, wrenching my arm free. “You lay another hand on me, and by the gods, I will set you aflame and rejoice in your screams!” The words flew out of me, and it wasn’t until I’d already said them that I noticed the crowd had quieted, their attention turned to me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood upright as I glanced around at all the watching eyes.

“Gods? Only heathens believe in more than one god!” Moros snarled, pointing at me. “The girl is a witch!”

“Witch! Witch! Witch!” The villagers chanted around me, and I swiped out at them with the flame, backing my way toward Aleysia.

“Yes!” I screamed, and all of them gasped in unison. After all, no one, not even The Crone Witch, had ever willingly admitted to the accusation. “I am a witch. I am capable of magic and power beyond what your small minds can comprehend.” I pointed toward the archway. “Do you want to know what lies on the other side of The Eating Woods? Because I’ve seen it.”

All eyes remained fixated on me, and twisting toward a woman in the crowd, I lurched forward, the flame leading the way. “Give me your cloak! Now!”

With trembling hands, she unlatched her cloak and tossed it toward me.

Keeping my eyes on them, I lowered just enough to pick it up and hand it back to Aleysia. A glance over my shoulder showed her reaching out for it, her eyes cast downward in shame. I turned back toward the crowd to find one of the men advancing toward me. When I lunged forward, he backed up, tumbling onto his ass. “You fools have no idea what awaits you. Monsters. The likes of which you’ve never seen before. And they will crawl into your village like an infestation, turning you into mutations.”

Silence hung thick, their eyes fixated and fearful.

“Most of you will die. Only a handful will make it to the temple.” I swept my finger over the crowd. “And you’ll sacrifice your children in hopes of appeasing the god he—” I pointed to Sacton Crain. “—told you would bring it all to an end, except you’ll rot away in your tomb. Because monsters don’t care about sacrifice, or what god you pray to.”

“Blasphemy!” Sacton Crain cried out. “She’s lying! She must be banished, alongside her wretched sister!”

I turned to face him, and whatever small remorse I’d carried for having killed him faded beneath the rage pulsing through me. “My father resides in a cell in the temple dungeon because he saw visions, as well. Banish me to the woods. I’ve already seen how this ends, and I am not afraid of what dwells there.”

A gentle grip of my shoulder had me turning to see Aleysia shaking her head. “Maevyth, what are you saying? This is … this is not you. Father is dead. He died months ago.”

I turned to Aleysia. “Father is alive. His death was a lie.”

“Is this true, Sacton?” someone in the crowd asked. “Is their father in the temple dungeon?”

“Of course not!” Sacton Crain let out a nervous chuckle. “What reason would I have to imprison a devoted follower of The Red God?”

“Show us! We demand to know the truth!” another shouted.

“Truth! Truth! Truth!” they chanted, moving away from Aleysia as they gathered around Sacton Crain.

“If he’s lying, he should face judgment from The Red God!” It was Governor Grimsby who spoke that time, and the crowd cheered in unison.

In their distraction, I gripped Aleysia’s shoulders. The urge to drag her through the woods, knowing how it would turn out in the end, pulled at me. “Run,” I said instead. “Run far away. To the Lyverian Mountains, if you have to, but get away from here.”

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, girl?”

The sound of that voice skated down my spine, and I turned to see Moros standing behind us. The crowd had disappeared, leaving only the three of us standing before the woods.

“This changes nothing,” he said. “You are still mine. No matter what you try to unravel, the threads cannot be broken.”

At the same time that a glint of silver in Moros’s hand hit my eye, Aleysia ran forward. “You leave her alone!” she screamed, and I lunged for her as she rushed toward Moros.

“No! Aleysia!”

Her spine snapped straight, body trembling, and when she stumbled backward, Moros held a knife, its blade coated in deep red that spilled across the snow.

“Aleysia! No!” I darted forward, but before I could reach her, my surroundings shifted in a blur, the abrupt movement pulling me to a halt. Nausea gurgled in my stomach, and I doubled over, collapsing to the ground, eyes clamped shut.

When I opened them, I was staring down at the ground, where drops of red speckled the white snow.

A bird’s caw drew my attention to the archway, where a raven hung impaled on a piece of thick bone.