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A sudden gust of wind slammed the tavern door open, silhouetting a lone figure against the frostbitten gloom.
"Get inside before you let in the cold," the man seated by the hearth grunted.
The newcomer latched the door shut against the blizzard outside. "I appreciate the warm welcome," he called back. Stamping his boots against the straw-covered floor, he shed snow and ice from his clothing.
"The ale tastes like horse piss, but it'll warm you up more than kind words," the other man said, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his tankard.
"I appreciate them more than most." The newcomer crossed the room and stopped behind one of the stools cluttered near the fire. "Rare is the outsider welcomed with open arms."
"Even when they answer calls for aid."
"Just so." The ghost of a smile flickered across the newcomer's lips. "May I keep you company 'til the innkeeper returns?"
"Fire's large enough to warm us both. Help yourself." He shrugged.
The stool creaked as the newcomer sat down. "In this land, I am known as Gabriel."
"And in others, you go by a different name? Wise choice." He raised his tankard in a mocking toast. "Most call me Jack. At least, when they're not dishonoring my mother by calling me a bastard."
"Does that happen often?"
Jack tucked a lock of hair behind a pointed ear. "You would know, wouldn't you?" His blue eyes caught the firelight and held it, ethereal and bright.
"What gave it away?"
"Unless you have a caravan hidden within your cloak, you're traveling rather light. I've never witnessed a full-blooded Vistana travel alone, but there are many strange things I've not yet seen. Just so that you're giomorgo—" Here, Jack grinned, lopsided and sharp. "—as it means you understand what it’s like to be split between two worlds and fit into neither."
"Perhaps," Gabriel said, wary and guarded.
Jack leaned back, the empty tankard hanging loose his hand. "You know, only fools and those who don't need a weapon go unarmed. So, Gabriel, which are you?"
"I have a knife." Gabriel gestured to his belt.
"And in the hands of most, this is simply a very sharp, very large knife." Jack thumbed at the leather-wrapped sword hilt at his own waist.
"I see your point."
The laughter escaping Jack’s scarred lips sounded strained, as if he had forgotten how to shape the sounds. "That was a terrible jest," he accused.
"Yet you enjoyed it nevertheless." Gabriel's teeth flashed in a lupine smile.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and the tavern-keeper stepped out of the blizzard.
"Boyar Antonescu did not wish to brave the storm," she called over, discarding her snow-heavy cloak, "so instead you are stuck with old Katya." She poured three tankards of ale. "The boyar boasts you are but the first of many to arrive. I am not so hopeful. We have little gold to entice those with the means to help us, and rare is the one who saves others out of the goodness of their own heart."
"'Tis gold enough." Gabriel glanced over at Jack as the blonde man grabbed one of the new tankards and said nothing. "Tell us what you know."
"You are good people." Katya sighed. "Generations ago, Petrișa had such a person here, but one day, children began to die. Our ancestors burned this woman at the stake. As the flames licked at her feet, she swore to make the villagers of Petrișa pay. Her curse would claim seven children every seven winters.
"The years have not been kind to us," Katya continued. "Famine and plague have taken too many. We have grown desperate. Ioane vanished into the darkness a fortnight ago—the sixth child this winter. Magda, the miller's daughter, is the only child left."
"I will aid you in any way I can," Gabriel said. Jack stared into the depths of his drink.
"Your silence says much," Katya told Jack, rising to her feet. "I do not blame you for your distance. If you wish to wait out the storm, we have rooms," Katya said as she began to collect the empty tankards.
When she stepped out of earshot, Jack spoke. "Don't look at me like that. Why should I help them? They brought this on themselves by killing an innocent woman. They deserve her vengeance."
"You came here, did you not?"
"I took a wrong turn on my way to Zeidenburg."
Gabriel snorted. "Petrișa is in the exact opposite direction of Zeidenburg."
"Several wrong turns, then." Jack shrugged.
"Across the courtyard, there is a war horse stabled beside a shield—"
"How do you—"
"—a shield," Gabriel continued, "bearing the emblem of a simple, rose-tinted disc of gold. Last I heard, the Old Svalich Road was blocked by an avalanche. Only a fool or a brave man would travel a treacherous mountain pass in the dead of winter." Gabriel smiled. "So, Paladin of the Hopeful Dawn, which are you?"
"That man is dead."
"Really?" Gabriel's dark eyes glimmered. "He seems very much alive to me, but you would be the expert on such matters."
"As if you know nothing of the undead yourself," Jack said, a wry grin tugging at his lips.
"We can quibble over the nuances of magic after we break the curse," Gabriel offered. "At the least, you have smiled again." He raised his tankard.
For a long moment, Jack simply stared into the fire. "You know what they say," he said at last. "There's no point in being sad. We're all going to die in the end—best enjoy the time we have left." Jack stood and met Gabriel's gaze. "If we're going to venture out into the storm, the least you could do is cast a spell to keep us warm."
"Of course," Gabriel said with a smile.
"I doubt the curse will break merely because we keep the child alive," Jack murmured, his voice pitched low so as not to wake the sleeping girl.
"Shall we do nothing instead? Besides, which of us is the expert on the arcane?"
Jack crossed his arms. "If it were that simple, the curse would have been broken long ago. I'll believe it when—"
"Excuse me?" a quiet voice asked.
Both men turned to see Magda sitting up in bed.
"What is it?" Gabriel asked.
"I need to go." Magda slid from beneath the covers and moved towards the chamber pot. When neither man moved, she stomped a bare foot. "I need to go!" she repeated, louder. "I can't go while you’re watching!"
In the half-darkness, the men shared a glance, red-faced, before they hurriedly exited the room, leaving the door ajar.
Just as they settled themselves on either side of the door, a metallic crash filled the air. Magda let out a high-pitched screech, and they raced back into the room. A dark, feathered shape reached in through the open window and lifted the child with ease. Jack lunged forward, failing to grasp her foot before it cleared the windowsill.
Rushing outside, Gabriel followed the creature’s tracks. Jack swore when he spotted blood in the snow and quickened his pace as Magda's cries filled the air. The pair left the village behind, racing through the forest until they reached the skeleton of a single-room hut. Jack and Gabriel paused just before crossing the threshold, the air too quiet, too still.
"If we slay the beast, we can save Magda." Jack drew his sword.
Gabriel shook his head. "T'will not necessarily break the curse. Assuming a spell created the creature in the first place, at best it would twist into a new form. We should—" Gabriel cut himself off as the paladin charged forward. "Jack! What are you doing?"
"Leave this place," a voice hissed. Jack stopped and squinted up at the rafters, sword raised. Where the blade caught the moonlight streaming through the holes in the rotten structure, it glowed. "Outsiders caused enough harm to my mistress, burned in the name of seven slain babes. Long after her passing, I remain here. Her final wish: revenge."
"Would it appease you if we gave her a proper burial?" Jack asked. "Atonement for the sins of the villagers."
"Never," the familiar said. "Never again will outsiders soil my mistress' memory. Seven children from each generation shall I claim—seven children each winter 'til Petrișa's last hope dies!"
Jack heard the rustle of feathers too late. A bone-white face swooped down out of the darkness, and behind him, Gabriel cried out in pain. The owl flew skyward, dodging the bolts of flame streaking from Gabriel's fingertips.
One blast connected, singeing the familiar's left wing, and as the owl plummeted to the ground, Jack lunged forward. Steel rent flesh, his sword pinning the screeching familiar to the ground. On contact, white-tinged flame smoldered it away into trails of black mist. The air burned with magic.
Gabriel collapsed to his knees with a hiss. When Jack moved to help him, Gabriel waved him away. "Find the girl first."
"Right." Jack scanned the room. "Magda, where are you?" he called out.
Frowning at the lack of response, Jack followed the footprints limping across the dust-covered floor, leading deeper into the hut. Blood drenched the floorboards, and Jack fought down the fear strangling his throat. He halted before the ruins of a bed, braced himself, then peered behind the wreckage.
He should have known they would fail.
Jack turned, pale-faced and trembling, and stumbled back to the entrance where Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, clutching the front of his tunic with a white-knuckled fist. He met Jack’s gaze with an unspoken question.
Jack shook his head. "Let me see your wound," he rasped out, throat tight.
Gabriel’s arm dropped to his side. Jack set a gentle hand on his shoulder, a warm light radiating from his touch. Gabriel sagged into the doorframe as the magic flowed through his body and his wounds knit themselves closed.
"No need to strain yourself over a shallow wound," Gabriel chided.
"You have a unique definition of shallow." Jack pulled away and stepped outside. The first rays of dawn peered over the horizon, painting the sky with smears of rose-gold and orange. Despite the dust and grime of long travel, his hauberk gleamed in the sunlight. "We need a shovel."
Gabriel snorted, then inhaled a slow breath. On the exhale, the air hummed with magic. The ground rumbled beneath them, and a wave of soil and snow surged skyward, engulfing the hut. Moments later, the pillar of earth collapsed in on itself, leaving behind only a neat square of dirt.
Jack stared, slack-jawed.
Gabriel smirked. "You have met precious few wizards if that impressed you."
"In my defense," Jack began, toying with the hilt of his sword, "few advertise themselves, and fewer are as handsome as you."
Gabriel opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, then cleared his throat. "With time, the forest will reclaim the plot, and the wounds will one day heal," he murmured, staring down at his boots.
"The clerics used to say that with death came new life," Jack bit out, "as if death was a reward for a lifetime of suffering." He spat on the ground. "Though we broke the curse, Petrișa has lost its last child. We failed."
"Did we?" Gabriel met his gaze, steady and even. "Petrișa no longer suffers. Whether it thrives or its people scatter across the land has little bearing on what we accomplished today: a victory."
Jack laughed, harsh and bitter. "Even the darkest night cannot last forever," he recited, voice pitched low. "Dawn approaches, and I am its herald: bearing hope, salvation, and surcease to those lost in the eternal night." Jack turned to Gabriel. "I speak those words each sunrise, though most days, I do not believe."
"Lift your head, Jack — 'tis all we can do. No more, no less."
"You sound like the clerics." Jack fell silent and watched the sunlight spill across his shield, the glare bright enough to make his eyes sting. "I'll try to remember that."
"If you forget, I will remind you."
"Will you?" Jack raised a brow.
Gabriel looked away. "We should return to Petrișa."
"And after?"
"I suppose you shall simply wait and see."
"Will I?" The corner of Jack's mouth curved upward. Despite himself, a huff of laughter escaped his lips, the sound less strained than before. "I look forward to it, then."
Without a glance behind him, Jack turned and started the trek back toward the village, Gabriel at his side.