Ventos rests a hand on my shoulder. But he doesn’t pull me toward him. He doesn’t demand I turn. “For whatever it’s worth… The vampir don’t steal faces to be wicked or deceitful. Honestly, we don’t even enjoy it. I certainly don’t. It’s painful and uncomfortable to be squeezed into another body. If I could spend the rest of my days without ever doing it, I would be content.”
I never expected Ventos to be a comfort…but he is. I glance over my shoulder. The strange face is less alarming now that I’m expecting it. I’m glad, however, that I don’t recognize whatever hunter it belonged to. This would be harder if I knew the man whose blood had been taken for it.
“I’m better now,” I insist to myself more than him. “We should keep going. We have to get back to Midscape tonight.” The thought of how haggard Ruvan looked when we were leaving makes me want to do this within an hour. If I’m wrong, and the Hunter’s Elixir fails to keep Ruvan strong, we need to start immediately planning what we can do next for him. I will not let him go off somewhere to die. As long as I draw breath, so shall he.
“You’re not going to hear me arguing,” Ventos says. “I hate the way this world feels; I want to leave as quickly as possible.”
“How this world feels?”
“It’s… I’m not quite sure how to put it. Callos would have a better description for it. But this world is quiet. It feels dead. The hum of magic that exists within living creatures is here, too, but it’s fainter. There’s not a whisper of greater power everywhere like what’s in Midscape.”
I try and think if I can feel a difference between this world and Midscape, reaching outward with my mind, my heart, and searching as I walk. I can feel a difference, but I can’t be sure if it has anything to do with magic. It might feel different because this is my home.
I’m finally home.
Our steps are silent along the cobblestones of the main road. Even though we make haste, we don’t sacrifice stealth for speed. By the time the moon emerges from the clouds we look like two hunters returning to the fortress early from patrol. Not that anyone sees us. The houses are shut tight for the full moon.
I wonder how much of the uneasy silence is due to the invisible scars left by the Blood Moon. People are still mourning losses, made all the harder by survivor’s guilt.
The road takes us into town. Ventos pauses in the main square, looking up at the bell tower.
“It’s of our make. There is no question about that,” he murmurs.
I can see it, too. There’s no way I could’ve before I went to Midscape. But now that I’ve spent time in Tempost, the vampir’s architecture is undeniable. It’s eerily similar to the bell towers of the academy. “This really was once all your land.”
“The far southeast reaches,” he agrees. “I swear, the Elf King that carved the Fade had no sense of geography. I hear the fae lost a lot of land in the cleaving, too.”
“I wonder if humans are fighting the fae too,” I murmur. The silver mines we source from are far to the north, right past where the fae lands would’ve once been according to the maps I saw at the museum. Perhaps that’s why the silver supply stopped. I think of another town just like Hunter’s Hamlet, battling fae instead of vampir. “Do fae hate silver, too?”
“Not that I know of. But Tempost was shut to the rest of the world before I was born in an effort to contain the curse so I never met a fae.” Ventos shrugs. “That’s a better question for Callos.”
“Right. Anyway, let’s keep going.” But the thought of silver has me swinging wide through town. Before I know it, I’m really back.
“Where are we?” Ventos looks at me curiously, no doubt because I’ve inexplicably stopped in my tracks.
Home.
I stand in the spot the Succumbed stood a month ago when it turned my way, when I drank the elixir and changed my life forever. The silver bells have been taken down from the eaves over the door, and the salt is gone from the doorstep. Tied around the knocker is a black ribbon—a symbol of mourning, of death. They’ve been on the other doors of Hunter’s Hamlet, more than I have ever seen, but this one is different. This one steals my breath. Is that ribbon for my brother? For me? Or both of us?
But everything, save for that black ribbon, is the same as I’ve always known it. The curtains are pulled tight over the swirling glass of the windows. My mother’s window on the second floor, right next to mine, is dark. I’m certain if I went inside, I would hear her snores.
“Floriane?” Ventos whispers.
“My family’s home,” I finally answer, tearing my eyes from the ribbon on the door.
“We don’t have time for—”
“I know,” I admit. “I’m sorry…just one thing.” He grabs my wrist as I start toward the side of the house. “One thing, Ventos, I promise. That’s all. Please.”
Our eyes lock. Disapproval radiates off him. He doesn’t want to allow this to happen, but he already knows he has no choice but to let me. He knows I won’t leave without being allowed this; I can see it in his expression. His fingers slowly uncurl.
“A minute, no more, and no one sees.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to sneak around my home.” I maneuver back and around the house. Set apart from all the other dense buildings of Hunter’s Hamlet is the smithy. Too noisy. Too hot. Too much of a fire hazard to be placed too close to anything else. Under cover of darkness, I slip inside and head right for the hearth.
It’s warm.
I cover my mouth to prevent the sigh of relief from escaping as a whimper of emotion. Mother has continued the forging. I’m not really surprised. This is what we were meant to do, what we were raised for, all we’ve known. The women of the Runil family hammer metal. We are the mothers of sword and shield for Hunter’s Hamlet.
