Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You blink awake, your eyes straining at the sudden light. Your head lay on your arm, protecting your face from the frosted ground below. The clothes you wore were damp and chilled, a shiver running over your body as you attempted to sit upright. A sharp ache twinged in your side, paralyzing your body for a swift moment. You had been running from something, a monster from in the woods.
You let out a whine, looking down at your chest to see your once white blouse now saturated in deep red. In a panic, you lifted your top to see dark purple and blue bruises forming along your side. The skin on your stomach was pink and raw with deep scratches. Besides the crunching in your ribs, you were alright. Still alive, and that was important.
Your eyes slowly adjusted themselves to the white snow, but a thumping had begun in your head. You glanced around for any sign of danger. Your aching eyes were unable to penetrate the now darkening woods, the trees offering no sanctuary. What time was it? The sun was low. The dark had not yet descended fully. You decided you had to move before it got dark.
You hissed as you finally sat upright, trying your best to keep the right side of your body still. Your arm was stinging, legs aching, and your entire body drained of its energy. In the little light the forest allowed the blood on your blouse looked black. It was almost inky. You had killed what attacked you. Whatever it was.
You stood up slowly, your face screwing up as you hobbled to your feet. Swaying in place, your balance unstable, you looked around for the path you had been following before the accident. It appeared snow had covered what remained of your tracks. No tree stood out to you, nor branch or bush. You glanced around the clearing, trying your best to ignore the pounding in your head or throbbing in your side. A sharp pain stabbed your side with every breath. “Fuck.” You whispered, gently holding your side.
You looked around in search of your bag. A book stood out from the snow, then a pen, then food. You followed your items carefully, picking them up one by one until you found what remained of your bag- now a shredded mess. “Fuck!” You muttered, throwing to the ground your pen and book. You filled your pockets with what you found most important; your water bottle, phone, what little food you had and a now soggy map that you tenderly folded. With a panicked pat of your coat pockets, you found what you were looking for, a photo. Tucking it gently back into your inside pocket, you looked up. The sun wasn’t gone yet, and the remnants of daylight remained. You could find shelter in that time.
A glimmer in the snow caught your attention. You walked towards it, finding your silver knife. You leant to pick it up, the wooden handle heavy in your hands. A sickly feeling stirred in your stomach as you looked over the blade. It had dried blood on it. A heavy groan sounded just beyond where you found the knife. It was dark, but you could make out a large lump in the shadows. It was panting, each breath getting fainter and fainter. You backed away slowly, the sickly feeling getting stronger as you realised what you had done. Turning and running from the beast that lay dying on the floor, you fled the clearing.

Darkness was setting in over the woods. You managed to find a trail a little ways back and had followed it, hopeful to see a cottage or light of some sort. Your stabbing side and aching legs meant you had to make frequent stops. “Christ.” You whispered to yourself, sitting on a mossy boulder. Rubbing your eyes, you allowed yourself to feel upset. It was a shitty situation, but one you put yourself in. Locating Liliana was a task no other was willing to endure, and you promised them you would find her. You took a sip of your water and ate half of an energy bar, wrapping it up and placing it in your pockets once more.
The pounding in your head was getting worse, causing your vision to whirl. You were tired. Drained. Aching. You thought back to your accommodation that was now five days back. Your mind wandered with thoughts of the fire that warmed the stone flooring and the steaming, delicious food. Now you were in an ever-twisting mountain range in the cold. "Liliana, why would you come here? You hate the cold." You scolded your sister. You stopped and looked back the way you came, longing to see the amber allure of a warm home. When none came, you forced yourself back onto your feet.
You walked until you happened upon a tunnel, man-made and sturdy in its brickwork. You grinned, knowing civilisation was near. Trying not to run in excitement, you hobbled your way through the dark tunnel, hoping nothing lay hidden, preparing to attack.
As you reached the end of the tunnel, you could feel a vibration. The distant sound of machinery clanking echoed around the frozen landscape. You grinned, drawing closer to the dim light. There appeared to be a structure in the distance and your heart leapt. You walked across a bridge towards it, the sickly feeling finally leaving your stomach. The cold winds bore through your clothes and you cursed yourself for not having a thicker coat. You shoved your hands deep into your pockets and hunched your shoulders as you made your way to the gates, smiling to see one was ajar. You brought your hand out and opened it wide enough to enter, the metal scraping on the frozen ground. The sound was loud, and you cringed, hoping not to scare those that occupied the residence.
You slipped through the gate and scanned your surroundings. Besides the machinery clanking from below, you would have assumed the area was empty. The outside was unkempt, littered with car bodies and miscellaneous metals. You began walking towards the open doors ahead of you but stopped and contemplated your choices. It was getting dark, and the thought of being alone out here terrified you. Although, barging in and demanding a room was almost cringeworthy. Staring up at the building, you shivered to see the black smoke rising. Where there is smoke, there is fire, after all. Perhaps the owner wouldn’t mind a stranger staying- it wasn’t as if you were a threat. Praying the occupants would think the same, you entered.
“Hello?” You called. No response came. The roof dripped into a sizeable puddle you splashed through with your boot. The sound of boots on the stone floor echoed as you walked down a hallway, following doors and lights. You called in intervals, still no response. When you reached the final door in the corridor, you slowly pushed it open. It was stiff and heavy, a groan coming from it as you opened it all the way. Behind it was stairs that descended into darkness, the smell of damp and rust emanated. Your head, as if warning you of what was down there, began pounding once more. Your knees were getting weak, your vision turning off for a moment before restoring.
“Hello? Sorry to intrude, but I’m lost and injured.” You called, taking a careful step down. You were shaking, fingers still holding the open door in preparation for someone running from the depths at you. The silence was more chilling than the frost outside, and you considered leaving. You stopped that thought when you remembered the nightmarish woods behind those doors, waiting for you to return. Whatever attacked you was one of many. You managed to take down one but look what it did to you.
You found the courage to descend further and made your way into the blackness. You could barely make out your hands in front of you. You tapped along the walls till a dull light cut through the gloom. Another metal door was ahead. Through it, you could hear muffled music. It was bass-heavy, a wailing guitar cutting through the vibrations. “No wonder they couldn’t hear me.” You muttered to yourself, peering in.
It appeared to be a well-used living area. Tall shelves held trays of scraps and tools, the floor and furniture covered with thick layers of dust. “Hello? I’m lost and hurt. I need help.” You shouted weakly over the loud music. Your voice was almost unable to be made out by even yourself. You walked towards the source of music; a battered CD player sat atop a table- one of the only items unscathed by the dust. Beside it was a literal tower of CDs. The jewel cases were cracked and battered, the paper inlays missing from most. A dozen discs lay face up to not scratch.
The case that lay open on top of the CD player was ‘Heaven and Hell’ by Black Sabbath. The music was thumping, and your pounding head only worsened with the racket. You shakily slammed your finger down and stopped the CD mid guitar solo. The disk spun inside the chamber, slowly whirring to a stop.
Silence. Oh, what bliss
You rested your hands on either side of the player, breathing heavily. It seemed the room was spinning around you, your vision blurring in and out. The pain in your side was unbearable, and you took slow, deep breaths.
“Did you just turn off my music?”
You turned, your back bumping into the table. A crashing sounded from behind you as the tower of CD’s tipped onto the floor. You yelped, failing to catch the discs as they fell to the ground. “I’m sorry!” You tenderly bent to pick them up, your side screaming at you. “I’m sorry!” You weakly rambled, your words coming out like sludge. Heavy footsteps stormed towards you, grabbing your wrist and yanking you to your feet.
You turned to stare as he dragged you from the mess. His grip ached as he clutched your stinging wrist. You fought with him to let you go, the rough movement causing you searing pain. He unhanded you harshly in the centre of the room. You stumbled backwards, catching yourself on the sturdy shelf behind. You clutched your side, watching in terror as the man stalked the centre of the room. He was breathing heavily, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. It appeared he had just returned home himself as his boots were still wet with mud, snow till dissolving on his coat.
“Did you touch my music?” He asked slowly, his voice calm despite his erratic breathing. You were unable to answer, your eyes wide. You were shaking, legs barely able to keep you standing. “Are you fucking deaf? Did you or did you not touch my fucking music?” He shouted, his voice causing you to whimper.
“Yes, yes I’m sorry.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut.
“So, you can reply to my questions.” You heard his boots slowly approach. “and you entered my factory because…?”
“I'm inured... I need help."
“Ah… you’re not local.” He mused. Opening your eyes, you saw he was smirking. You clenched your fists. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“I said I was lost.” You bit back, angered by his amusement to your dismay. “There's something out there. It attacked me and I need help, please!" Despite your strong voice, your eyes began tearing in fear. Your vision became blurred, and you quickly brought your hand up to wipe your tears. The man remained unphased and you quickly realised your words were falling upon deaf ears. “I can leave. I’m sorry for intruding.”
“No, no.” He brought his hand up to shush. “You don’t have to leave. It’s late and the woods are… dangerous at night.” He took a step forwards. You pressed your back against the wall.
"Look," his hand raised to move a rogue piece of hair from your face. “You’re bleeding.”
“I think it would be better if I left.” You gulped, finding the strength to begin moving towards the door, not taking your eyes off the man.
“I don’t think you quite understand what’s happening here...”
“Excuse me?” Your voice began to falter.
Behind you, the door slammed shut.
“Sweetheart, you’re not leaving.”

Chapter Text

He watched you from across the room, in his hand a lit cigar that he puffed on. Under his sunglasses, you could feel his eyes piercing you. He was taking in everything you were, his breathing now steadied. Above the round shades, his thick eyebrows furrowed. The air was dense, just moments before he had physically dragged you to sit in a chair. His barking voice still ringing in your ears. Sitting down had made you feel slightly better, but the queasy feeling in your stomach began to grow. At least you were off your feet, and if you were to faint, the floor wasn’t so far.
“Who sent you?” He asked suddenly, the quiet tension snapping. You looked up at him.
“No one sent me.” You said weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open.
“I find that hard to believe,” He sighed, “I’m not well-liked by those fuckers in the village. Mostly due to that supersized bitch running an all you can drink blood diner.” He sat forwards; the cigar gently held in his fingers. “So, I ask you again, who sent you?” His words were slow as if you were too stupid to comprehend his question.
“No one sent me.” You spat, copying his tone. He slowly extinguished his cigar on the chair arm, then leapt up, his arm extended. The air flexed as a knife landed in his hand. In a blink, he was at your throat. It was sharp against your skin and you froze, afraid that even the slightest movement could cause a laceration. He gripped your hair with his free hand, pulling your head back to expose more neck.
“Sweetheart, I advise you not to get snappy with me. I’m not the person you want as an enemy.” He whispered, his breath hot on your skin. You gulped, feeling your throat rise and fall against the blade. “So, for your sake I suggest you talk.”
“Please, please…” Your words came out in a sludgy mess, “I’m telling the truth, please don’t, please!” You squeezed your eyes tight as he ragged your head back further, causing your back to crack uncomfortably. The burning began spreading across your scalp from the pressure.
“Who. Are. You?” He pressed harder.
“My name is Y/N. Something attacked me in the woods- I’m not from here!” You weakly said, words failing to form sentences in your head. Your sweating hands were holding the sleeves of his coat, gently trying in a futile attempt to pry him off. “I got lost!”
“What attacked you? Describe it.”
“I-I thought it was a man. But it was feral- a crazed look in its eyes. It wasn’t human. There were more, surrounding me! I, I can’t think. Please, you’re hurting me!” Saying this made him grip harder. “I got turned around! The snow hid my trails!” He gripped harder. “I’m searching for my sister. She flew to a village near here. She never wrote to us to say she arrived! I’m looking for her. Please, believe me!” You were sobbing, unable to breathe. He loosened his grip slightly. “She’s my best friend. She could be kidnapped or… or dead in the woods! I just need to get her home. I need her back!” You garbled the words out, no longer thinking of what you were saying. You were a sobbing, snotty mess. The man loosened his grip further, the blade lowering from your throat.
“You came here of your own volition?” He whispered. You weakly nodded. “You really don’t know who I am?” You nodded again. A slight chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t know where you are?”
“…No.” You barely spoke the words, your voice trembling. Your body felt heavy and tired, the pain in your head now becoming a crashing. The room spun faster as his grip loosened. Suddenly he let go, causing your head to dive down towards your chest. You caught yourself and grabbed your neck, checking for cuts.
“Then you mustn’t know what happens around these parts… Oh boy, aren’t you lucky?” He laughed. Your eyes were stinging. Your throat was aching, and it was taking every bit of remaining energy you had not to scream. You wanted to yell at him, attack him, but your weak body proved no match.
He walked away and observed you once more. The room was silent, yet your head was pounding, like a banging drum getting quicker and closer. Everything was so confusing to you- a man who could summon objects at will seemed impossible. Perhaps you saw it wrong? You leant forwards, head in hands and knees spread apart. Your mouth was filling with saliva, and you cringed, knowing what may come next.
“Don’t you dare.” He whispered, slight humour in his voice. It amused him to see someone so vulnerable and terrified. You shook your head and took deep, steady breaths, focusing your mind on the stained wooden flooring. You followed scratches with your eyes until they met with the door. You considered it. Your were hands prickling with sweat. You could run. The possibility was there. You shuffled your feet, almost giddy with the idea, your hands gripping the edge of your chair.
A quick motion from him made you jump as the door slammed shut. A faint yelp left your mouth, your hand coming to cover it. Your eyes snapped back to him, watching as he slowly lowered his clenched fist. He tilted his head, and an expression formed on his face that you couldn’t quite make out. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” He smirked, “You wouldn’t get very far… in your current condition, that is. Which reminds me, sweetheart-“ He walked towards you, leaning slightly to get a better look at your face. He tilted his head again. “I’d like to take a look at you.”
You didn’t move.
“Even if you are an incredible actor, I don’t think you could fake that green tint your face has developed. So, whether you stumbling onto my property was deliberate or not, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.” He stood up slowly, taking off his coat and hat. He rested them on the chair. He wore a white vest, his strong yet scarred arms on show. He gently took off his round sunglasses and placed them in his coats pocket. “You have to have been pretty quick and strong to kill that… thing in the woods.” He walked towards the tall shelves. You closed your eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. He was mumbling to himself. The sound of shifting metals and opening drawers echoed in the quiet room.
“You wouldn’t believe the state of the bodies I’ve found there.” He murmured in an amused tone, “Grown men with limbs torn off… faces missing… hell those things are pretty lethal… Aha!” He grinned. You looked up to see him carrying a red medical kit. He handed you it and walked towards the back of the room you hadn’t yet been to. There was a curtain that worked as a makeshift partition, and the sound of running water told you it was a kitchen. He walked back to you and crouched down till you were on eye level. “Yet somehow you survived them. Now, how does that work?" He paused to glance at your eyes. "If you make it through the night, colour me impressed.”
“Make it through the night?” You mumbled, looking at his face. Without his hat or glasses on, he was rather attractive. His face was scarred and dirty. His grey hair was pulled back into a loose bun, pieces of hair flittering onto his face. He must have put it up when you weren’t looking.
“You don’t look too hot, and the way you stumbled around earlier told me you aren’t feeling too hot either.” He whispered, “I might have to shoot you if you’re too broken.” He grinned as if what he said was amusing. Seeing your solemn face, he coughed, “Like a horse? Shoot them? Never mind, the point is I don’t kill useful things.”
“But you do kill?” You whispered, feeling your body become cold. He opened the medkit, pulling out plasters and painkillers. The kit looked untouched, everything still wrapped and neatly placed. You thought of his scars and wondered if they were old.
“I’m a mechanic. I fix. But believe me, if you were to try anything, I wouldn’t hesitate.” He hissed. You cringed, remembering the feeling of a cold blade on your neck. He raised his hands, in his clutched fist was a wet cloth. It looked a bit grubby, but so did everything else, so you kept your mouth quiet. He began dabbing the cut above your eyebrow. “If you aren’t useless and you don’t scrap; you aren’t wasted energy.” He concentrated, his tongue sticking from his lips. You felt faint, the mixture of his cigar breath and stuffy air in this room made you woozy. “Hey, stay with me. I haven’t had company in a while, so talk. Keep it going.” He tapped your cheek lightly, you fluttered your eyes open.
“What about?”
“You can think of something. You don’t seem as stupid as you appear, albeit a little slow with your responses.“ He chuckled, stopping to look at you. When you didn’t respond, he grumbled, continuing, “No time for jokes?”
“I just want to find my sister. I can leave right now and there won’t be an issue.” You whispered, your throat still aching from your earlier crying. You looked up at his face through damp eyelashes. He paused as if taken aback. He stared at you for a moment before coughing.
“I’ve already wet a cloth. Talk to me. I don’t care, just stay awake. I’m not catching you if you faint, so whatever happens is on you.” He quickly cut off eye contact and continued dabbing your cut.
After some silence, you gave in, feeling the tension was too thick for you to handle.
“My sister is called Liliana.” You whispered, gently moving zip open your coat pocket. The man flinched, preparing for you to attack. When he saw a photograph in your hand, his tense stance softened, and he roughly took it from you. “She came to a village near here, Bacova or something. She was going to interview the owner of a famous winery. She wrote to them years ago and they finally responded with a date. She was so excited- she’d spent ages saving up the cash.” You said, your sentence falling into a whisper.
“Hm.” He mumbled, shoving the picture back into your hands. You took it quickly, looking to see if the snow had affected it at all. A wave of relief swept over you upon seeing Liliana’s face, but your heart twinged. “No winery’s around here.”
“As I said, I was so lost out there that I just walked until I happened upon civilisation.” You mumbled, gently putting the photo back into your coat pocket. “Are we close to Bacova?”
“Darling, you’re about as close to Bacova as I am to the moon.” He said gruffly, taking the medkit from your hands and picking up a bandage. He roughly tied it around your head, being slightly gentler near the tender cut.
“Fuck.” You whispered. You felt that same sick feeling from before resurfacing, your face screwing up. “They all gave up on her… no one is even looking anymore.” You looked down. You were unsure whether he was listening or not, but his silence was better than his constant yammering. He finished with the bandage and looked over you.
“You’re looking for her.” He stated, “That’s gotta mean something, right?”
You nodded.
“You’re still green.” He frowned, looking at your chest. “Take off your top.”
“Excuse me?” You leant back in your chair, hands coming to cover your chest. He stared at you, confused by your sudden outburst.
“Sweetheart, you look half dead. I assure you that is not my type.”
“You’re a pig.”
“And you’re injured on my property. Either let me help you or fuck off- It’s no skin off my nose.” He looked up at you. His mood swings were giving you whiplash already, and you stared daggers at him, unmoving. “I am a dick. I don’t give two shits about your sob story or you, for that matter. If you left here, I wouldn’t think about you for the rest of my life. So, take my help while I offer it because, in the morning, you will leave- bandaged or not.”
You stared at him, believing every word he spat. With a sigh, you gestured to your right side, where the stabbing pain was coming. “It hurts to breathe.” You mumbled, taking your left hand and gently placing it on your right rib. You squeezed your face as you touched it, any movement painful. “It doesn’t feel punctured, just fucked and... crunchy?” He raised an eyebrow at your bloodied blouse, unconvinced. “This… isn’t my blood.”
“Well, broken ribs crunch.” He mumbled to himself. A heavy sigh left his lips, and he rubbed his eyes. “Fucks sake.” He grumbled, looking into the medkit for painkillers. He roughly handed them to you and stood up, walking back towards the kitchen area. You shook out a couple of pills and held them in your hand until he returned with a glass of water. “I don’t get visitors very often. I’m unsure of how to deal with a situation such as this. I’m not good with…people?” He phrased it as if it were a question.
“You could say that again.” You mumbled, drinking down all the pills at once. You downed the water, wiping your mouth. A small smile played on his lips when you handed the glass back to him. He nodded, taking it from you. “Thank you.”
You rolled your sleeve up, checking your arms where it was stinging. You barely had the energy to acknowledge it. Between the pounding of your skull and stabbing of your ribs, a stinging arm was nothing. You hissed as your sleeve unstuck from the cuts. Your blouse was saturated where the blood had soaked in. Three deep cuts were on your right forearm.
“Come here.” He motioned for you to follow. He watched as you stood up slowly, gripping your side as you did so. He kept his distance as you followed him to the curtain partition and through it to the kitchen. In the room was a sink, an oven, a fridge and cabinets, all dirty. Plates and dishes piled in the sink. “Uh… give me a moment.” He grumbled, quickly moving the mess and rinsing both the surface and his hands. If you weren’t too distracted with all your ailments, you would have laughed to see him flustered.
You steadied yourself on the countertops until he beckoned you over to him, gently taking your arm and rinsing it under the tap. You seethed, gripping the countertop with your left hand. He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t make out as he rinsed your cuts, allowing the water to gently trickle over them. After a couple of minutes of silence and pain, he took your freezing arm from under the tap and patted it dry with the cleanest cloth he could find.
“I’m going to have to sit down.” You mumbled, holding your head. Your legs were shaky and reminded you of baby deer’s when they first walk. Your sister said your knees were always your weakest point, unable to stand for long periods without complaining. Your ‘Achilles knees’, she would muse.
“Fucks sake. You’re a whiny one.” He sighed as you grabbed his arm for support. He paused, thinking of what to do before scooping you up and roughly placing you on the dirty countertop. You gasped, gripping his shoulder as he lifted you. He was surprisingly strong. “Arm.” He barked, and you held it out. He examined it. “Is this the one that I grabbed?” He asked, inspecting the cuts that ebbed with blood. You nodded. He looked up. “Hm.”
You assumed his acknowledgement of his actions was his way of apologising.
You shrugged. “I turned off your music… knocked over your collection… probably broke some discs.”
“Yes, you did.” He muttered, shaking his head. His tied-up hair bobbed as he did so.
“Sorry.” You cringed. A part of you panicked, wondering if this would be enough to set him on a rampage. He sniffed suddenly. You jumped. He gave you a strange look and walked away, returning with a bandage. He tenderly wrapped your arm, being softer than he was with your head.
A small smile crept on his face, “You only broke the Journey CD.”
“Oh, I did you a favour.” You smirked, hoping your humour could win him over. His smile grew, and the anxious feeling began to surpass.
“Yeah, yeah don’t hold your breath.” He said with an amused tone. He tied up the bandage and looked over you. “Anything else?”
“I think you’re done for the night.” The painkillers had begun to take effect, the pounding in your head slowly relieving itself. If it weren't for the throbbing in your arm or tired muscles in your legs, you might have giggled.
“You seem chirpier. Hopefully, that doesn’t come back to bite me on the ass.” He sarcastically said. You remained sat on his countertop, both of you unsure of what to say next. You opened your mouth to say something, and he did the same. The two of you awkwardly stopping and starting again.
“You…” You motioned, but he shook his head.
“You.” He said, leaning back onto his table, crossing his arms.
“Okay…” You felt suddenly awkward, “Thanks for helping me?”
“Is that a question or…”
“No, it’s a thank you.”
“Blah blah blah.” He shook his head, hand coming up to stop you. He stood up quickly, coughing and folding his arms. His demeanor had changed again, and you were already sick of his tidal wave emotions. “You stay here tonight. You rest and, tomorrow, you will leave. I wasted good bandages on you, and I don’t like to waste.” He hissed. “So don’t die in your sleep.” He walked out from the kitchen area and back into the living space.
“Lovely.” You smiled, slowly sliding from the countertop. All of his pleasantries seemed to have dispersed. You were shockingly fine with that. You wanted to rest. You wanted to sleep, whether it was on cold hard ground or a haybale, you didn’t care anymore. Your need for sleep had overridden the need for comfort.
“I have a couch you can sleep on.” He murmured. You nodded and followed behind him as he left the room. You smiled to see him slow his pace to match yours. “My name is Heisenberg, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

Chapter Text

Yesterday’s pain seemed weak compared to the mornings. You awoke to a dull ache throughout your body that only worsened with every movement. Your limbs were stiff, knees and elbows unable to bend. Your leg muscles screamed as you slid them off the couch. Your feet hit the floor heavily, unable to stop them. The room was warm, almost humid. How that was, you didn’t know, especially seeing as yesterday you had to walk through a blizzard.
Your bare feet on the cold floor was soothing in the humidity. You groaned, applying pressure to your aching ribs. It appeared your painkillers had worn off, the pain returning twofold. You tried to stand, making it halfway up. The familiar stabbing in your side acted up once more, causing you to stiffen and collapse heavily onto the couch. A whimper gurgled from your mouth, the pain making you ill. You frantically looked around you, searching for some sort of release.
The room was dimly lit, only a faint light from under the door brightening the space. The dust you had disturbed from your earlier attempt at standing danced in the illuminated area. You watched until it settled again. All the while, the silent factory stood idle. The vibrations that lulled you to sleep last night had silenced. The only sound that could be heard was the pounding in your head and throbbing of your pulse.
Soon, your stabbing side settled as best it could. You took this opportunity to stand. Taking slow breaths, you used your arms to help you up. Legs screamed as you hobbled to the light switch, your left hand clutching your right ribcage. The bulb flickered to life, and you breathed the dusty air, already exhausted. The room seemed untouched. The only tell that life existed here was the disturbed dust on the floor, couch and side table. You looked around, spotting a crumpled sheet of paper besides a tub of painkillers and glass of water.
Your eyes widened as you frantically grabbed the tub, tipping out a couple of pills into your shaking hand. You picked the glass and chugged the water, smiling as the pills slid down your throat. You had drunk like you hadn’t in years, water trickling down your chin and onto your chest. You breathed heavily, smiling as you felt your mouth and throat lubricate again. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were, your dehydration overshadowed by your other ailments.
The water sloshed into your empty stomach, a reminder of how hungry you were. You gently placed the now empty glass onto the side table once more, using it to steady your balance. Your legs were still weak.
A small tinfoil package adjacent to the glass caught your eye. You tenderly took it in your hands and opened it. A grin overtook your frowning face. It was a sandwich, neatly wrapped and cut in half. You sniffed, unsure of what the meat was. You fingered the bread, peeking inside to see what else was in it. Meat, lettuce, tomatoes, mustard… Hell, the guy put effort into this. You grinned, taking a large bite.
“Oh my god.” You moaned, cringing at how pornographic you sounded. It was delicious. You wasted no time in wolfing it down. Just knowing this was your first meal in days was enough to make you scream. For a moment, you were completely immersed in the sandwich. For there to be such fresh ingredients, there had to be a village or town nearby. Unless Heisenberg secretly had a green thumb, which you highly doubted. It seemed the man could barely nurture himself, never mind a plant. You thought back to the messy kitchen and workspace. The layers of dust, rust and mould that coats this place definitely warrants a visit from the health inspector. All diseases could be traced back to that man’s kitchen, aaaaaand there goes your appetite.
You screwed your face up, pushing the thought down as you attempted to enjoy the rest of the sandwich.
You looked at the wrinkled piece of paper that sat alongside the gifts. The handwriting was messy, Heisenberg’s penmanship needing practice. The words were large and sprawled, barely legible. You slowly read through it, piecing together what he wrote.
Clean clothes. Painkillers. Bandages. Leave what you don’t want.
There is a village just south of here. Find Duke- (he’s hard to miss). He will find you a place to stay if you mention I sent you. I advise that you don’t answer his questions- and especially do not accept his tasks. He’s a greedy fucker and will bleed your pockets dry. Trust me.
Don’t go to the castle. And don’t speak of me to anyone you meet.
Leave the village as soon as you can.
-H
There was an urgency behind his words, but you grinned, flipping the paper over to see if anything else was written. You sat gently on the couch, finishing the sandwich as you reread the note over and over again. Despite Heisenberg being a cunty, manic and disgustingly awful man, there seemed to be some remnant of a former human self that remained. He didn’t have to help you. Damn, it seemed Heisenberg didn’t want to either. But, for some reason, he did.
“Duke…” You hummed, “Odd name.” You hoped he was kinder than Heisenberg had been upon first meeting. Perhaps everyone in the village was going to be as abrasive at first. It was something to get used to until you found the strength to move on. There was no way you could travel in your current condition. You hated to say it, but Liliana had to wait. There could be a phone in the village. Calling your parents might be a good idea, despite you not being on the best terms with them at the moment.
When you informed them of your search for Liliana, they begged you not to go. They told you that she was dead, never to be found. The police had done everything they could in her search, no evidence showing up. To you, however, it did not seem enough. You knew your sister. She was intelligent, never knowingly putting herself in danger. She had to be out here... somewhere. There were moments in the nights leading up to your flight where you would awaken to see Liliana in your bed, bleeding. She was always bleeding. Never dead. That was proof enough for you.
You waited till you were in Romania to call your parents and tell them where you were. They were furious. They screamed, demanded you to return to your hometown. Despite being well into adulthood, a sense of childhood guilt still weighed in your stomach as you hung up their call, silencing your phone. You planned on returning within a month, but seeing as your trip has been extended, you needed to inform them where you are. Maybe they could send someone for you?
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” You mumbled. You needed to focus on leaving the factory first. Heisenberg was insistent that you were gone by morning. You had no watch or clock to tell the time, so you needed to hurry.
You finished your sandwich, your stomach still rumbling. You needed your strength to walk to the village, dreading the task before it had even started. You hoped it was mostly flat or downhill. Having to walk uphill would most likely kill you, even with the help of Heisenberg’s sandwich.
It took three attempts to will yourself to stand, then four further attempts to actually succeed. The movement wasn’t so painful this time, the painkillers slowly setting in. You moved to the pile of clothing folded roughly on the side table. You stroked them, feeling the thick and seemingly expensive material under your fingers. You held the pieces to your frame and screwed your nose as it caught your own scent. You grimaced. The mixture of dried blood, dirt and pure stench on yourself was enough to make anyone gag- no wonder Heisenberg was so animalistic towards you. You hadn’t yet seen your face in a mirror, so you were unsure of how hideous you looked since the accident, especially with your cut eyebrows and seemingly swollen eyes.
You felt your hair. It hung in greasy ropes and was clumped in certain places- blood or mud, you didn’t know. You dreamt of a warm shower, a comfortable bed and a steaming bowl of food. But, for now, the best you could offer yourself was the assurance of a place to stay in when you reached the village. Even that, however, felt uncertain.
For a moment, you considered changing into the new clothes... but after reflecting on your current stench, decided against it. Perhaps when Duke found you a place to stay, you could shower and wear fresh clothing. You gently brushed the white blouse down to smooth it of wrinkles. It was well made. You frowned when you noticed the area around the chest was missing two buttons. You rolled your eyes.
You put the note Heisenberg left in your pocket, making sure to tidy the couch, folding the blanket neatly and fluffing the dusty pillows you slept on. You hummed, looking over the room for anything you accidentally left before turning the light off and closing the door. Your mother had ingrained the concept of ‘leave the place tidier than you left it’ into you and your sister from a young age. Despite not being that into cleaning, you felt guilty if you left a mess.
You followed the same path Heisenberg had led you last night. He had briefly motioned to a bathroom area, but you were too tired that night to use it, collapsing into the couch as soon as Heisenberg shut the door behind him. Today, you felt more energetic and entered, realising the sudden strain your bladder had. You half-walked, half-galloped to the toilet, not bothering to lock the door behind you. You assumed you were here alone. Heisenberg didn’t see big on goodbyes.
It was surprisingly cleaner than the other areas of his home. You wondered if he used a bathroom elsewhere in the factory. The building was large enough for multiple bathrooms, bedrooms and kitchens. Maybe this was a guest shower… but you doubted he had any guests to stay the night. Perhaps you were the first?
You looked into the mirror and gasped, unprepared for how terrible you actually looked. Your right eye was swollen and bruised, the bandage above it saturated in deep red blood. Your hair hung in greasy ropes past your face, now dirtied and muddy. The white shirt you wore was worse than you imagined, whatever’s blood coating nearly every bit of you. You glanced at the bath-shower combo and wondered if Heisenberg would mind I you had a quick shower- being sure to rinse the bath afterwards.
After careful deliberation, you caved in to your desires, turning on the water and watching as it slowly began trickling out. The water pressure seemed weak, but you couldn't complain. Warm steam filled the bathroom as you stripped. Your blouse and pants peeled off you and heavily hit the ground. You rushed as you showered, a sigh escaping your lips as you massage your scalp. You glanced at the water, running brown off your body. You cringed, using the tiniest bit of shampoo and conditioner that Heisenberg had. It had developed a thick layer of dust on the containers, the soap itself hardened from lack of use.
Perhaps Heisenberg never showered. It wouldn’t surprise you, but you didn’t notice he smelt odd. Just of cigars and motor oil, and some reason that was appealing to you.
You gargled and spat with the water, using your finger as a makeshift toothbrush to get rid of the fluffy feeling on your teeth. You then spent a good deal of time rinsing the tub, making sure no rings were left in the base. When you were sure of the cleanliness of the bath, you exited and aired. The factory was warm, so It didn’t take long for you to feel comfortable putting the clean blouse and pants on. You used the belt from your old pants to keep the new pair up, seeing as the waist was too large. You wiped the steamy mirror with your hand and looked through the haze. You looked better. Still swollen black and blue, but clean.
You wiped the countertop with some toilet paper, making sure no dirt was left. The last thing you wanted was for Heisenberg to track you in the village and kill you for abusing his generosity- especially when a shower wasn’t gifted to you in the note. You rang your hair out over the tub, cringing as the pulling movement hurt your scalp. Remembering the gash in your forehead, you inspected it in the mirror. It wasn’t bleeding, but you gently dabbed it dry, feeling rather ill when doing so. The cut was deep… any deeper you could’ve seen your skull.
“Stop that.” You scolded. Thinking of this only worsened the pain.
You walked back to the living area and towards the kitchen. There you disposed of your bloodied blouse and pants. You weren’t so bad at speaking to people, so perhaps you could persuade some villagers to give you some clothing. You took from your pockets the screwed-up tinfoil ball from your sandwich and tossed that into the bin as well, then washed the cup.
Despite your body aching after such a short walk from the bathroom to the kitchen, you felt guilty. Looking around, it appeared Heisenberg was a busy man. He might not have as much time on his hands to clean such a large home. If he worked in the factory, building, fixing or whatever he does, he must be tired after a long day. You had bled him of his resources, taking time from his busy schedule. To leave without an honest ‘thank you’ felt dirty. You sighed, looking around for an easy task.
You eyed the CD pile, most of which still on the floor where you both had left them. He was a lover of music… a clean music space might brighten his sullen mood! You got right to it, organizing and wiping clean the table. The discs were scratched- played too much. You gently rubbed them clean on the softest part of your blouse. You searched the high shelves behind you for a spare tray to put in off pieces of metal that had no home.
It wasn’t a quick task, but already your legs were screaming at you to sit. Still, you stood and admired your work. All CD’s were lined against the wall, random scrap metal in a tray and CD player centre- no dust in sight. The discs without homes were laid on their back as you had no idea what to do with them. You pulled the note from your back pocket and began carefully ripping the area that Heisenberg didn’t write on in his large, unkempt style.
Finding a pen in one of the trays in the shelves, you wrote neatly,
IOU: 1 Journey CD.
Thank you for helping me. I appreciate it more than I can express. I apologise for the trouble I caused last night, and I’m thankful you didn’t kill me. (It feels funny writing that…)
Hopefully, a cleaner music space makes you feel better about my abrupt stay and draining of your resources.
Yours graciously,
Y/N.
xoxo
Looking over your note, you hoped Heisenberg would understand what ‘IOU’ meant… Surely he wasn’t as old as his grey hair made him appear. He seemed to you in his forties. You hummed in thought as you placed the note on the CD player, pinning it in place with the two shards of Journey disc. You smirked, hoping for your sake Heisenberg would find it ironic and somewhat amusing. God knows you needed someone on your side in this unknown area, even if they were as unstable as Heisenberg.
With one last look at the factory, you grabbed your belongings and left.

Chapter Text

The walk was shorter than you expected. You followed the manmade walls from Heisenberg’s factory all the way to the village, using them to steady you. It was a slow journey, your legs unable to move faster than a gentle trudge. Your left arm was tired from holding your side in an attempt to keep your upper half steady. You found that little steps were the key, especially if you wanted to avoid the shooting pain.
Your hair was now damp, and you scolded yourself for not allowing it to dry more before leaving the factory. You were sure to catch a cold from the frozen air- that was the last thing you needed. Despite the cold shivers running through your body, a shower had improved your mood. You just hoped your injuries and bruised face wouldn’t shock the villagers too much, especially the large gash on your forehead.
You smirked. Out in the woods, walking with such an odd limp, you resembled Bigfoot. You stopped yourself from laughing to avoid paralysing pain. With any luck, the villagers would welcome you, Bigfoot or not.
As you trotted along peacefully, your mind wandered back to what Heisenberg said last night. ‘No wineries around here.’ How far were you from the closest one? Had you really wandered off the trail that much? Your memories from last night were hazy, unable to remember most of what happened. You had heard of people blacking out traumatic events but never experienced it first-hand. All you remember where the sound of many feet following you, then waking up. It comforted you to know that when in fight or flight mode, your body chose to fight. It was heartening, and you hoped Liliana was the same. You grimaced as you remembered the feeling of sticky blood on your chest… hearing the dying grunts of whatever lay on the forest floor. You had killed it. Whatever it was.
You looked around as you walked. Along the trail you followed, the forest lay just beyond the wall. The woods were dark and shadowy, even to look at them felt like a curse. You kept your head down. You hoped whatever lay beyond the wall were sleeping or wary of you. You would prefer the latter. To be feared by beasts whose claws ripped your arm and gashed your forehead would be brilliant. Heisenberg thought it was impressive too. A smirk formed on your face… it seemed shocking him was a rarity.
When Liliana told you she was to travel to Romania, you laughed in her face. You and she had never quite seen eye to eye on certain things, her finding travel and adventure exciting- you were indifferent. Romania seemed a weird place to go, especially when warmer countries were her weakness. “I know it’s out of character, but they finally replied to me after years! They invited me as their guest to come and experience the winery first hand.” Liliana had told you, a wide toothy smile spread across her face. “It’s an incredible opportunity. To pass it up would it stupid.”
‘All this over a bloody bottle of wine’, you’d scoff. You weren’t a wine person. You found beer had more appeal. Liliana, however, had always been a peruser of wine. On multiple occasions, your parents had caught her stealing theirs. It was lucky she managed to get into the Vineyard business. Still, you found no allure to wine or vineyards, finding it all tedious and very pretentious. And yet, here you are. Lost in the mountains to find your idiot sister who went missing over some wine.
You shook your head as if trying to knock those words out of your brain. She was following her dream, and that was that.
Soon the trail became thick with fog. You kept one hand held out as you walked, your eyes unable to penetrate the mist. This only worsened your fear of the area. What kind of creatures could be lurking just beyond… You shivered. You began humming the song you heard Heisenberg play last night- the one from Black Sabbath. You hated to admit it, but Heisenberg had a fair collection, most of them your favourite albums. Black Sabbath, Rob Zombie, Iron Maiden, Creedence Clearwater… the list kept going. You wondered how much of the outside world he knew? He hadn’t television or radio that you could spot, only the music. Maybe he knew more than he let on. Or perhaps he knew nothing at all.
Your memory of Heisenberg was also in pieces. You barely remembered him helping you or what you both discussed. His voice, however, stuck with you. You could hear it as you thought of him… that rich laugh he had was enchanting. If he so wanted, he could become a voice actor. You’d pay to hear him read a book to you. Although, judging by his mucky work gear, he had no intentions of being a voice actor. You doubt the thought had even crossed his mind.
Those scars he had... They were all over his body. Some were still pink in their hues, but some were old and white. They were all over his face, neck, arms... some even on his back. They didn’t appear self-inflicted. You wondered who did that to him? Why so many?
You paused for a moment. If your eyes had been serving you correctly last night, which you don’t think they were, Heisenberg could control things with his mind- or something similar.
You burst into laughter, it quickly cutting short with a gasp of air and a stabbing of ribs. You were most definitely suffering from delusions here in the mountains. Obviously, being attacked was enough to knock you off your rocker. One thing was for sure, however; Heisenberg was not someone to fuck around with. That was something you engrained in your mind.

You became increasingly lethargic. Your legs felt wobbly as you forced yourself onwards. You made a deal with yourself that upon arrival, you could rest for days. You needed the rest. Walking was doing more harm than good. You wondered how long you go on for before completely collapsing… Perhaps another thirty minutes, if that.
It felt like you were dragging two bags of cement with every step, your knees buckling under you. You weren’t an adventurer, your body unused to such activity. You worked in a bar at night. The most activity you got was taking the bins out or replacing a keg. Walking to and from the bar wasn’t a task either- a mere twenty minutes there and back. Most nights, you were so drunk from the shift that someone dropped you off at home, completely eliminating the walk. You grumbled, thinking of your poor habits, lamenting the fact your sister was athletic. It appeared you took the lazy genes whilst she took the energetic ones. You grumbled, looking up at the sky.
Despite the pain, you knew that if you stopped now, you would not start again.
A church steeple came into view, and your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t so far away, just now emerging from the thick fog around you. Your limped trudge slightly quickened as you saw a gate ahead. Crows sat on the arch. They watched as you came closer, observing you. A large crow flew away, and the others followed, their cries hurting your ears. One crow, however, stayed on the gate. You paused, slowly approaching it.
“Uh… hello?” You smiled, trying not to frighten it as you went closer. It was hesitant as you fiddled with the gate. Flakes of black paint came off on your fingers as you wrestled with the lock. Soon, it came undone, and you slowly entered. You struggled with the deep snow as you pushed the gate wide enough for you. Squeezing through, you found a worn path that leads to houses, then to a street.
Smoke billowed from the chimneys, and you shuddered, jealousy overtaking you. What you wouldn’t give for a hot drink and a fire right this minute. The homes were sturdy in their brick and woodwork. Beautiful curtains and charms hung in the windows, and you admired them. You passed by small boxes, candles flickering from within. You paused to observe. ‘What a sweet custom.’ you thought, a small smile spreading across your face.
It was a quiet village. There was no sound besides footsteps or doors opening and closing. You looked around, attempting to find someone to speak with. It appeared they didn’t want to know you. Everyone wore dark clothing, turning away as if to avoid eye contact. Some stopped and stared but quickly moved on. A young girl exited a house, not two steps ahead of you. She paused when she saw your beaten face. She looked afraid, her mouth dropping as her hand came to her chest. She quickly walked in the opposite direction, disappearing into the rows of homes.

“Some welcome.” You grumbled, pulling your coat closer and pushing on towards the church. You assumed it was in the heart of the village.

A thought popped into your head. Duke. How were you supposed to find Duke in such a maze of homes? It wasn’t as if there was a huge sign that said, ‘The Amazing Duke- THIS WAY!’, although that would be incredibly welcome right now. Perhaps Duke would be near the church.
You looked up, following the steeple. The sun was high, but the sky remained grey and muggy. It must be midday.
You sighed, folding your arms. You were close to giving up, your freezing toes somehow burning in your boots, still bloody. You allowed yourself to pause, hoping to catch a villagers eyes as they passed. But, at this moment, no one was around. You stood in the empty village centre. Abandoned market stalls encompassed the area, and despite it looking dead, you could tell the village was well inhabited.
“Where the hell is Duke?” You groaned, feeling your legs become even wobblier from being idle.
“Was that my name, I heard?” A gentle voice called from behind. You jumped, quickly turning. How he had gotten there, you had no clue, but behind you was a large man in a horse-drawn cart. He was sitting in the back of the open wagon. He was smiling, warm jolly cheeks a pleasant sight in such dull weather. His bulging stomach hung low between his legs, and you wondered if the cold bothered him as it did you, especially seeing as his skin was exposed. Upon seeing your terrified expression, his jaw dropped. “My, my, what a face!”
“You scared me.” You smiled, your hand coming to tap your chest. Under your skin, your heart was beating fast. You were on edge. This much fear in such a short timeframe could not be good for one’s heart.
“I’ve heard I have that effect on people.” His smile grew.
“I must have walked right by. I’m sorry if I ignored you. My mind is preoccupied at the minute.” You explained, walking closer to him. His cheery smile comforted you, and despite not knowing him, you felt as if he knew you. He hummed as he nodded.
“That’s quite alright. There are a lot of things to see and do here. But I don’t think an adventure is what you’re seeking.” He hummed, folding his arms over his large frame. He had a smug expression as if to say, ‘I know what it is you want.' You bet he did.
"I’m looking for Duke, is that you?" You stepped closer to him. Despite the chill, there was a warmth that emanated from the wagon. It was as if a fire were lit inside. You peeked around to check the size of the cart. It was smaller than you imagined. Perhaps there was a sort of heater inside? Or was it Duke letting off such heat? Either way, you welcomed it, coming closer to the man.
“Why, yes it is. How nice of you to know my name. What might yours be?”
“Y/N.”
“My, my, what a beautiful name! Say, my dear, what brings you to our humble village?” You blushed, Duke's charming character making you flustered.
“I’m looking for my sister.” You rooted into your pockets, pulling out the photo, the same one you showed Heisenberg. “Although, I’ve been informed I’m far away from my desired location. I got turned around in the woods, you see?”
“The woods are treacherous at night.” Duke hummed, taking a long look at the photo. “What beautiful girls, but I’m afraid I cannot help you.”
“Could you tell me where I am? Perhaps I could phone my family to inform them that I’m safe.” You gently put the photo in your pocket once more. You were tired of this area, of being lost in the cold. You cringed, feeling like a missing child in the supermarket. You thought back to your parents warning you of taking this trip. They could not have known the dangers of this area. You wished you had listened to them.
“I’m afraid you have stumbled across the one place which is completely shut off from the outside world. Just a visitor like yourself here is enough to arouse suspicion.” He gently lifted his arm and gestured to something behind you. You turned. There was a mother and her child, both in black attire. They were stood, open-mouthed, staring at you. Neither of you spoke. You smiled, lifting your hand to wave at them. Suddenly, the mother grabbed the child’s arm, dragging them back from where they came.
“This village doesn’t seem to like me.” You mumbled, your heart sinking. “I wasn’t meant to be here.” You rubbed your eyes lightly. You were close to tears. You turned back to Duke, wishing you could curl up into a ball.
“Serendipity, one might say.” He nodded. You stood in silence for a moment. “Could I perhaps interest you in some of my wares? I have everything you may need… food, water… clothing?” He began, his eyes widening when he saw your blouse. “Well, well… it appears clothing was no issue."
You looked down at yourself. Were you dressed wrong? You brushed your clothing lightly, pausing when your fingers glided over a crest. It was on the chest of your blouse in golden thread. From your angle, you couldn’t make out what it was. You gently pulled your blouse closed, cursing Heisenberg for giving you a blouse with missing buttons.
“Might that be Lord Heisenberg’s crest?” He hummed, a smug smile emerging on his face. Despite his kind demeanor, you felt unsettled by his smile. It appeared the mere mention of Heisenberg was enough to make him excited. His eyes glimmered as you watched him.
“Lord?”
“Why, yes. One of the four Lords of our village.”
“I didn’t know he was a Lord. He was kind enough to bandage me. I was told to find you.” You took out the note from your back pocket. Quickly showing him and returning it back into your pocket once more. “He said you would find me a place to stay until I've recovered from my injuries.”
“Well, well, if Lord Heisenberg trusts you….” Duke smiled, yet a note of suspicion hung on the end of his words. He studied you for a moment, and you looked away, your hand coming to rub your arm to soothe. Duke suddenly moved, leaning back into the cart to grab something. He slowly returned to his upright position, his large arm holding out keys that appeared tiny in his grasp.
“Follow the path ahead. The walk is around ten minutes or so… but in your condition, say twenty.” He smiled, “Turn left at the farmhouse gate and continue the path until you see a cottage. Yours until you feel you can depart. If you could bear to leave us, that is.”
You held your hand to get the keys, smiling brightly. Duke quickly moved the keys from reach, leaning closer to you. You cringed backwards.
“How curious Heisenberg took pity on you. I wonder…" The Duke looked you up and down, his face forming an expression you didn’t understand. “Anyways, I doubt you plan on keeping him as a friend?”
“I’m too busy for friends. I have my sister to find.” You avoided his question, unwilling to divulge in the knife on neck moment. “He was kind enough to offer me shelter and bandage me best he could. That’s all I could ask for."
“Are you planning on keeping contact with him?” Duke asked, his eyes sparkling. You stared at him, curious.
“I doubt it.” You smiled politely, holding your hand out for the keys to the cottage. Your patience was wearing thin, and you feared you may have answered too many questions for Heisenberg's liking.
“What a shame. I do so love… friendships.” Something about how his lips formed the word made you cringe. You quickly picked the keys from his large grip and backed away. “What a pleasure it has been, Y/N. Do find me if you would like some warm food. This cold is unrelenting, wouldn’t you say?”
“It is a pain.” You forced a small laugh, stepping back from him further. “I appreciate your kindness.”
“Oh, Y/N. A token of our soon be, powerful friendship.” You turned to see him holding a small green bottle and something wrapped in brown paper. You limped towards him, gently taking the gifts from his hands.
You thanked him, leaving quickly.

Chapter Text

“Christ, how long is this going to take?” You whimpered, feeling your tired legs burn with each step. The thick snow proved walking difficult. Your boots left deep trails as you dragged your feet. In your hands, the brown packet and green bottle felt like lead. You were considering dumping them, but seeing as Duke gifted you them personally, you decided against it. You wanted to read what the bottle said or peak at the parcel, but that would mean you would stop. You had to keep going.
Through the now thickening mist, your weary steps became weaker and weaker. Soon you were dazed, unable to make out the path ahead. You used the wooden fence to walk. Without it, you were sure to collapse. But, with each step, the ability to concentrate worsened and soon, your vision was back to how it was last night. Head pounding, ribs stabbing, legs aching. You could barely stand. It felt as if you were spinning. The world turned to pink, blue and yellow stars as you fell heavily to the snowy ground.

Your eyes fluttered open. In your hazy vision, an amber fire could be made out. The flames crackled and spat, the heat welcoming. You blinked, attempting to orientate yourself. You were on a couch, your head supported by a pillow and your lower half covered in a thick, itchy blanket. You looked around slowly, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. It was homely. Hand-carved ornaments sat on a heavily populated bookshelf, the titles of the books you were unable to read. The curtains were closed but, through an opening, you could see the now setting sun.
You shuffled gently into a sitting position. How long had you been out? Your thoughts were like mush as you gently rubbed your eyes, suddenly wincing at the sharp pain spreading across your scalp. The pain radiated from the side of your head, and you moved your hand to feel. A thick bandage wrapped around your head, covering your earlier forehead gash in the process. “Great.” You muttered. Another head wound.
The door to the room slowly opened and, you jumped, turning to see a girl enter. Her brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, some hair escaping to frame her face. She was humming as she moved and smiled when she saw you awake. “You’re safe, don’t worry.” She smiled kindly, placing a glass of water and a bowl of steaming stew beside you. “You took quite the fall.” Her voice was soft as she pulled a chair to sit on.
“Thank you.” You picked the bowl up and began eating. Your stomach grumbled as you spooned a lump of potato into your mouth. You groaned, your eyes shutting in bliss. “This is delicious.” You said through mouthfuls.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s a family recipe.” The girl smiled. “Are you in any pain?” She brought up the glass of water for you to drink and, you took it with a free hand, thanking her.
“My head is pounding.” You sipped the water. She took it from you and placed it on the side table once more. As you chewed, she picked up a tub and shook two white pills into her hands. She offered you them and, you took them instantly, washing them down with water. You nodded a thank you.
“I found you on my way home. Your head is cut on the side, here.” She slowly stood, tenderly brushing your hair as she motioned to the bandage. You nodded, comfortable with her gently handling your head. “I hope you don’t mind, but I changed you and bandaged what I could see. Your top had blood on it.” There was silence as she scanned your face. You cringed, imagining her seeing you naked. But her placid expression cooled you. She didn’t seem to care. “You have been hurt before. Your eye is blackened, and I saw the bruising on your chest.” Her eyes were wide and glassy in the atmospheric lighting. You studied her face.
She was young, around her mid-twenties.
“The woods.” You replied simply, having a feeling she would understand. She sighed with a nod. Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her legs, resting her arms on her stomach. The wooden chair creaked as she did so. Her features were highlighted with the crackling fire, and you realised how peaceful you felt. You were comfortable here, her smile proving no danger.
“Well, you are lucky to still be here.” She smiled. “Not many survive the woods. But I must ask. How was it you did?” She leant forward eagerly. You spooned the stew into your mouth and slowly chewed. You found it hard to concentrate on her questions, having to ask once more what she said. She giggled, realising your absentmindedness was due to the taste of her stew. “I asked how you made it out of the woods. It’s far too dangerous for any person to be travelling through there.”
“I honestly don’t know.” You mumbled. “I hit my head and woke up in the snow, covered in blood. Not much of it mine…” You smiled awkwardly. She gave you a puzzled look, her eyes not leaving yours. You had a feeling she had seen the crest on the blouse Heisenberg gave you. You wondered if she would be uncomfortable with that. Hoping to settle the sudden awkwardness, you coughed. “So, what are they in the woods?
She froze for a second, softening as she picked up the glass of water to hand you. “Wolves. Big, bulky things.” She paused, turning to glance at the closed door behind her. Her voice lowered into a hushed whisper, leaning closer to you. You instinctively stopped eating, gently setting the metal spoon in the half-filled bowl. “I’ve seen one larger than me stalking the village square at night, so please be wary after dark. ”
“Does no one deal with them?” You whispered back to her. From the way her eyes shifted away, you thought not. Still, you stared, waiting for more information. Finally, she sighed, blinking slowly and taking a deep breath.
“They are almost immune to bullets. It takes a lot to kill just one. My mother was, unfortunately, taken by them.” She said softly, but you saw no sadness behind her eyes as if she had dealt with her loss. “Running and hiding is a better solution.”
“Ah.” You nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You both sat in silence for a moment. She didn’t look upset, more so accepting of the fact.
“You have been bandaged by someone else.” She motioned to your forehead. “I hate to pry, but may I ask who? It's rare to see such hospitality in our village. We find outsiders…” She trailed off, pulling a funny face.
“Testing?” You smirked. Her eyes lit up.
“Precisely.”
“You already know who helped me.” You looked at her, the smile lingering on your lips. She let out a breath which mimicked a laugh, a blush spreading across her features. “He has kindly requested that no-one finds out about his… hospitality?” You didn’t know quite what to call Heisenberg’s help. She nodded frantically. You wondered whether her blush was from fear or embarrassment. “No, of course. Whatever Lord Heisenberg requests!” Either way, she was flustered. “My name is Elena Lupu. I live here with my father. He is…” She trailed off before finding the courage to speak again. “...Not pleased that you are staying.”
“I’m sorry to impose. I can leave!” You slowly moved to set your nearly finished stew on the side table. She ushered you to lay back down again, handing you the stew to finish. Her eyes were wide but kind. You saw she wanted nothing more than to please you. You slowly laid back down, taking the bowl back in your hands.
“No, no. You must rest! You aren’t well and, I can’t in good conscience let you leave in this state. Please, take as long as you need to recover.” She said, gently brushing the hair out of your face. Her fingers were soft and soothing, and you ached to feel her pull away. She sat down again gently, embarrassed by her sudden outburst earlier. You complied, smiling at her.
“Please thank your father, I appreciate it. I can’t express that enough.” You smiled.
She nodded.
You sighed, “I don’t have anything to offer you for your kindness. I lost my belongings and money in the woods.” You sighed, an edge to your voice. “The wolves must have shredded the backpack to get at my food. What I had left of it.”
“What’s your name?” She asked, changing the subject. You assumed she could make out your anger. You mentally thanked her for doing so.
“Y/N, I came here looking for my sister. Well, not here exactly. I got turned around in the woods, completely lost my sense of direction. Wound up here.” You sighed. You had lost your appetite, swirling the spoon around the bowl slowly. You watched as the now lukewarm mixture moved in circular motions. Elena saw and took it from your hands.
“Your sister?” She said softly, her eyes unable to meet yours.
“Yes, Liliana. I have a photo somewhere…” You patted your body and then laughed, realising your change of clothes. “In my coat pocket.” You told her. She stood quickly, walking towards the door. She exited the room for a couple of seconds and returned with your coat in hand. You thanked her, searching the pockets for the photograph. “Ah.” You smiled, passing it to her. She took it slowly, taking care of where she placed her thumbs.
You analysed her face as she scanned the photo. Her eyes were wide, unmoving from your sister's frozen grin. A gulp sounded in her throat before she shook her head. She extended her arm and wafted the photo in your direction. You took it quickly.
“No.” She mumbled, shaking her head. Her arms folded across her chest as she stood over you. You didn’t speak. She was flustered and, you knew something wasn’t right.
“You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” You asked, attempting to sit up. You flinched but stayed strong, managing to sit up fully. “I just need to know if she is okay. They think she’s dead, but she’s not. I can feel it.” You felt your eyes prick with tears, the ache in your throat returning.
“I think you should rest. You hit your head hard and, to strain yourself will only worsen your condition.” She tutted, pulling the blanket higher. She had a strange look on her face that you couldn’t quite pin, and you stared at her in stunned anger. You moved quickly, grabbing her wrist as she tucked you in. You held her tight as she jumped, her arm instinctively pulling from your grip.
“If you know something, tell me. You can’t in good conscience let me leave the house in this state, but to lie will do much more harm.” Your eyes locked. Both pairs were wide and frantic. You remained in silence before you slowly let go. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.
“I do not know where she is.” Elena's words were barely audible. Her face was contorted into terror, rubbing her reddened wrist with her other hand. You looked away. She walked to the door, in her hand the bowl of stew. “Please sleep.”
“I just want to find her.” You muttered. She flinched to hear your words before exiting the room quickly. Behind her, she gently shut the door, leaving you alone in the room. In the silence of the room, the crackling fire was loud. You felt the heat on your body. It was almost sweltering, and you ripped the blanket from your legs in an attempt to cool off. “Fuck!” You wanted to shout, restraining it into a stressed curse. You had already assaulted Elena. To scream swears would only do more damage. At home, when in a mood, you would drink or call your friends to ‘bitch’. But, seeing as both of those options were off the table, you needed to find something else to distract you.
You gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes as you forced yourself up. You held a strangled cry in your throat as you swung your legs over the sofa. The blanket fell to the ground as you did so. You were in loose-fitting black pants, your feet exposed on the rug below. It was thick and stiff, the material itching your soles. It was a traditional pattern, red in colour. You focused on it for a moment, attempting to distract yourself from the pain. The ashes from the fire had fallen onto the rug, desaturating the red. There were spots where you assumed coal had rolled from the hearth and onto the rug, scorching it.
With that thought in mind, you forced yourself upwards. “Ah.” You squealed, attempting to keep what pain you could, hidden. You gritted your teeth, steadying yourself on the mantle above the fire. It was hot, but you remained clutched to it. Fearing that if you let go, you would fall. You remained still for a while before trusting your legs. You took a tender step towards the bookshelf, then another, then another, until you were in front of it.
On the shelves were multiple books, and you gently brushed the spines of them with your finger. They were bound in leather, sun-bleached and torn. Where others had layers of dust, one did not. You gently wiggled the book out, taking it in your hands. It was heavy and thick. There were words on the front in gold print that you couldn’t understand. Above the title, however, was an imprinted hexagon. Inside the shape were four crests, and your eyes widened upon recognising one. The bottom right one was the same as Heisenberg’s.
It was immaculate in its details as you ran your finger over the image, feeling the bumps. A horses head surrounded by a horses shoe. You assumed it symbolised strength. A quick chuckle escaped your mouth as your mind drifted to a dirtier meaning behind the symbol. You shook your head.
Duke said that there were four lords in this village. These must be the four crests.
One crest was a mermaid, her hair flowing behind her. You were fascinated by this image and observed it closely. Such detail, especially on a small scale, was incredible. In the top right was a sun and moon, overlapped. The top left of the image, a flower of sorts covering two swords. You hummed as you imagined how the other lords would act. Perhaps Heisenberg was the nicest of the four of them. Or maybe he was the worst.
You returned to the sofa, taking care to sit slowly. You placed the book on your knees and watched as it fell open to the middle section. This book was obviously well loved, the corner of these pages were worn as if read regularly. Small annotations in pen were made around the central image.
It was a rough sketch in pencil. It showed five characters. There was a feminine figure stood in the centre, the four others surrounding them as if worshipping. The central figure had their arms raised above their head, a halo of sorts emanating from them. They were ethereal. The four figures were on their knees, their heads tilted upwards. One figure was taller than the rest, their mighty stature contrasting a small hunched being besides them. It appeared charcoal was used to darken the hunched figures robes, it rubbing off on your fingers as you stroked the image. You inspected the charcoal on your fingers before continuing. A slim figure was beside the hunched one, it appeared some sort of garment covered their features. The final character was further away than the others, separated by a larger space. They were on one knee when the others were on both. It appeared this one didn’t worship the ethereal character.
You fingered through the pages. Despite the Lupu’s taking good care of the book, pages were loose, some dogeared. You noted imagery of crows as you scanned through the pages, hoping for some English. Nothing appeared to jump out at you, despite your search. You focused on the images more so than the words. Whoever was adding these drawings were talented. You studied each one you found, finally piecing together that this was a religion. It appeared crows and birds had symbolic meaning. You shuddered as you remembered them observing you when you entered the village.
You sat back on the sofa, allowing your body to relax. You brought the book to your face, hoping to inspect the annotations written. As you did so, a piece of paper fell from the book and onto your lap. You gently placed the book besides you, picking up the paper to investigate. It was thick and coarse, resembling a canvas-like material. You opened it slowly.
Another sketch, this time more detailed. It was the same ethereal being as before, but this time it was clearer. It was a blonde woman, stood with her arms outstretched. Above her, a golden light shone. The light caused her halo, fingernails and jewellery to glimmer. Her eyes were closed, black eyeshadow smeared over her eyelids. Her black robe had white detailing on the chest and hem. Although a beautiful image, you felt uncomfortable viewing it. As if it were cursed, your breathing felt shallow. Wings flexed behind the woman, the feathers thick and inky black. Her fingernails were long and sharp, resembling talons. Crows were pictured around her, were manic in their depiction, as if rushed.
Above the subjects head, in delicate cursive, the words ‘Mother Miranda’ were written.
“Mother Miranda?” You whispered. As you stared, you felt the eyes of the crows bore into yours. A loud shout from outside the room caused you to jump. Looking at the window behind you, you saw the darkened sky. It was black. How long had you been reading? The fire was now dying embers.
You swore you had only just begun reading the book.
You stood up quickly, squeezing your face as you hobbled to the bookshelf. Shakily, you returned the book to its rightful place. You heard footsteps approaching the door and you quickly lay down, pulling the blanket over you. Unsure of what to do, and as a reflex, you feigned sleep, feeling like a child up after bedtime.
“This is ridiculous, Elena.” A deep voice muttered from the opposite side of the door. You heard as the door creaked open. There were no footsteps you could hear entering the room, but you felt the heat of eyes over you. You lay in silence for minutes, afraid to move.
‘Had they seen me reading the book?’ You thought back to the gaps in the curtains. A part of you wanted to admit to snooping, attempting to ease the embarrassment if they had seen, but the gruff voice sighed. “Another one?” He growled. The words caused your breath to catch in your throat. What did he mean by that?
“This cannot happen again.” His words were quiet, but anger was deeply laced with every word.
“I couldn’t leave them, father. They had fallen!” Elenas words were hushed as well. You heard movement and whispers you couldn’t make out. Soon, the door was closed. But the vibrations of their argument could be heard. You opened your eyes, sitting up as you listened in on the fight. “You raised me to be kind and care for others. To leave such a poor soul out there is against everything I know.”
“We discussed this last time. Not another refugee in our home. We owe them no debt or salvation.” Elenas Father spoke, “Don’t you see?”
“I do, but I can’t agree with it.” Elena sounded desperate. You could imagine her face as she spoke.
“Elena!”
“Father, I must tell them.”
“This is against Mother Miranda’s words. We know what we have to do.” Her father shouted, quickly hushing his voice.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Stop thinking of her! That girl is with Mother Miranda now.” The whispers penetrated through the wall, and you froze. What girl?
“Father, we know what happens to those who enter the church with Mother Miranda! I cannot in good conscience let them keep looking for their sister, knowing where she is now.” Elena spoke, her sudden harsh voice odd compared to her sweet one. “Put yourself in their place! If it were me, you would feel differently.”
“Elena, you are my daughter, my flesh and blood. This person is an outsider.” Her father shouted. You jumped at this sudden anger. You raised your hand to rub your arm soothingly.
“Why should we allow innocent people to be hurt? You know what happens to young girls under Mirandas watch!” Elena’s voice was thick, as if trying to hold back tears. You listened eagerly, your heart racing in your chest.
“We mustn’t question her, child. It is the way. It has been this way for generations. This is how we live.” He said. “Mother Miranda sent that girl to the castle for a reason. That was her fate. It is not in our power to question Mother Miranda.”
“That… place is so dark and twisted. What happens there I couldn’t imagine…”
“Hush child. Y/N could hear.” His voice was suddenly soft. “I know you want what is best for others, but we must look out for ourselves first. If Mother Miranda knew of our treason…” His voice trailed off.
“They can leave in the morning, but I promised them rest for this evening. At least allow them that. What happens tomorrow is in their hands.” Elena sounded muffled, as if speaking into her Fathers chest.
“We will tell Mother Miranda of them. That is all we can do.” You heard their footsteps slowly echo away from the door.
You sat in silence. With the fire in dying embers, the room was cold and foreign. You were unable to move or comprehend what was happening. So many thoughts raced around your head. Some bitter. Some pained. Mostly, you were shocked. Your eyes were wide, burning into the hearth before you. Breathing was difficult and you felt yourself panicking. There was something wicked happening here. Something terrible, and Elena knew of it. No. Elena was in on it!
“What the fuck is happening.” You raised your hands to rub your eyes, now dry from your lack of blinking. “What the fuck.” You whispered, unable to say anything else. Does that mean Liliana was still alive? Here in this village? Your thoughts raced as you stood quickly, limping towards the book you had looked at earlier.
You frantically flicked through the pages, using the orange embers of the fire as a guiding light. You needed to know who Mother Miranda was. You needed to know what she was doing. Where was the castle?
Most importantly, where was Liliana now?

Chapter Text

You stayed awake that night fingering through books and documents alike to find answers. Most of the work was written in Romanian, but you managed to piece together what you could through images and small notes written in looped writing. And, despite your attempts to stay awake, you soon found yourself falling in and out of sleep. Your brain mushed together thoughts of crows and Liliana, Heisenberg and the bitter frost just outside the window. Soon you were asleep, in your arms you cradled a large book titled, The Village of Shadows.

You awoke in what you assumed to be the early hours of the morning. The room was chilled, your breath coming out in puffs of white. You shivered, pulling the blanket over you. It was warmed by your body heat, and you gently moved the heavy storybook from your lap. There were deep indentations in your hands from where the book had been laying and you rubbed them sorely, your fingernails still baring the flaked red nail polish you applied before you departed from home.  You turned to see the window. It was still dark, but there were signs of the early morning. The sky was almost a deep purple from the sun rising in the distance, the snow outside a dark shade of blue. You turned to scan the room. It looked different in this light. Less cosy. You felt exposed, somewhat. As if someone was staring at you. Suddenly, the photos on the wall of the Lupu family was less wholesome and now sinister, their eyes looking through you. You had to leave this place. You were sure that despite Elena’s pleas, her father must have told Mother Miranda of your residence here.

You looked around the darkened room. Your late-night studying had conjured a small mess around the fireplace- a pile of books there, a collection of parchment here. The Lupu’s mustn’t know you had been snooping- especially through such secretive documents. Whilst the sun rose slowly over the snowy mountains, you covered your tracks. After straining to reach the high shelves and the lower ones, you finally placed them in their rightful spots. You made sure to take light steps, not wanting to wake the family out of fear they would call Mother Miranda- who you assumed was a deity of sorts. Through old maps and blurred ink, you concluded that the village was a small hamlet west from region of Maramureș. Old photos showed the village was beautiful in the summer, colourful wildflowers and green grass stretched the paths of the secluded town.  You recalled your sister mentioning the village was remote, an invitation only policy. From what you pieced together from your research, no one enters the village, and no one leaves it. You shuddered, your mind recalling a number of horror movies that had this exact plot.

“Now, Y/N.” You whispered to yourself, looking around the room for anything out of place. “The sooner you leave, the better.” You folded the itchy blanket, not bothering to make sure it was perfect like you usually would. You threw it over the back of the sofa, hurrying to leave. Despite Elena clothing you in thick winter socks, the cold wood bore through as you padded towards the door to collect your boots and coat. You sucked in a slow breath, preparing to open the door, when your eyes landed on your muddy boots at your feet… your coat folded neatly on top as if they had been waiting for you, you let out a pained groan as you picked them up and taking them to the sofa to put on. Straining to bend down, you double knotted your boots and zipped your coat to your chin. In a panic, you patted your breast pocket looking for Liliana’s picture. You pulled it out and held it to your chest. “I've got this, Lil.” 

Taking a step towards the door again, you placed your icy fingers on the chilled brass doorknob and twisted it open. Of course, the old door squealed to open, and you winced, hoping the noise was not enough to wake them. It was dark throughout the room, the light coming from the small window besides the front door.  A long, worn red rug stretched from the front door, past the stairs and back towards the area you assumed to be the kitchen. It smelt damp, the picture frames on the wall coated with a thick coat of dust. You stepped onto the red rug, allowing it to dampen your footsteps as you continued right towards the front door.

It was heavily bolted.

“Fuck.” You panicked, looking over the bolts- A thick lock trapped you in, the keys nowhere nearby that you could see. In quiet panic, you rustled through the nearby drawers, quickly opening and closing them as your flittered through. A rack hung behind you, almost overtaken by thick coats made from varying types of wool and fur. You began looking through their pockets, stopping when the feeling of cold metal brushed against your fingertips. You clasped it, feeling the shape of keys. You gently took it from the coat, trying your hardest to silence the jingling sound. You looked at the keys in your hands, the amount of them almost comical. You let out a scoff in bewilderment. There must be at least fifteen keys on here, probably more.

There was a creak that sounded down the darkened hallway behind you. You froze, turning slowly. There, in the dark blue of the early morning, you could make out a figure. You watched it with bated breath as it came closer to you. In your hand you held the keys tightly, knowing only luck could save you now. You pressed your back against the chained door, preparing for hands to grab... but a soft voice called out. “Y/N?” It was Elena. She was in a simple white nightgown, a grey shawl wrapped around her. She pulled it up on herself, her eyes squinted and tired. “Y/N what are you doing?”

“You scared me.” A wave of relief washed the nauseated fear from your stomach. Your hand coming to touch your chest lightly. You took a relieved breath. Elena watched you with curious eyes, her brown hair in two thick plaits. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” You whispered, your hands meeting once again with the cold locks. She watched as you tugged on it in vain hope of it snapping in two.  

“I slept in the kitchen besides the fire in case you needed me in the night…” She paused, "You’re leaving?” Elena asked, taking a cautious step towards you. You didn’t respond. “I… I think it is best that you do.” She whispered, stepping forward and taking the keys out of your shaking hands. She used a soft touch to move you aside. She peered at the mass of keys on the chain, a smile coming on her face as she found the correct key for the lock. A click sounded as the lock and chain slid from the door. Then, she used another key to unlock the door itself. You were glad Elena was here to help you, God knows how long it would've taken for you to find the correct keys.

“Elena...” You began. She turned to face you, her hand still holding the cold doorknob. “I know you’re afraid to tell me what’s going on, but I need to know.” You brought your small hand up to clutch hers. She flinched but allowed you to hold her hand. She looked down at your touch longingly, before sighing, placing her hand on top of yours.

“You are in danger here.” Her voice came out in a warble. She stared at you with wide, glassy eyes. A guilty look flickered across her face as she tore hers from you. “Please, do not hate me. I don’t agree with her orders, but I have no choice. To rebel is to damn my family, and I cannot do that to my father.” She gulped, her eyes filling with tears.

“You mean Mother Mirandas orders?” You asked. Elena almost jumped from her skin.

“How do you…”

“Mother Miranda has my sister, doesn’t she?”

Elena stared at you, her eyes widening in realisation. “I have said to much. You need to leave.” She snapped, pulling her hands from yours. She opened the door, stepping back and motioning you to leave.

“Please Elena.” You begged, stepping closer to her.

“There is a way out of the village if you continue up the mountains, past Lord Heisenberg’s factory. I suggest you go in the early morning, for it is not safe at night.”

“I can’t leave without her.” Inside, your mind and heart battled. You knew you were outnumbered and to stay here was a fool’s errand, but to leave without Liliana seemed pointless. “She is the only reason I came, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t find her.” Elena's face flushed, looking away from you. Stepping forward again, you placed a hand on her arm. This time, you held it gently, learning to not grab her so roughly. Elena looked up at you suddenly, her eyes wide and afraid. “I know you know what happened to her.”

“I don’t know what you’re...” She began her voice trailing off when she saw your pleading eyes.

“If you were in my shoes looking for those you love, would you stop at nothing to save them?”

You watched as she thought, her breaths coming quick and shallow. Her hands rubbed together anxiously, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. She stepped forward, her mouth coming to whisper in your ear. Her breath was hot and fast, her voice quiet and panicked. “There is a castle full of death and darkness. I do not know where she took her, but...” She grabbed your shoulders quickly, pulling you into a tight hug. “You cannot go there. The Lady who lives there is cruel and if you are caught- “

Suddenly, the sound of uneven footsteps could be heard upstairs. They were slow and heavy, the old wooden floorboards straining under the weight. Elena jumped away from you, her hands ushering you to leave.

“Elena, what are you...” Her father called, his voice gruff and deep. He plodded heavily downstairs, pausing when his eyes met yours. He took a stiff step forward. “Don't you move!” He called, his steps getting louder and quicker. Elena stood in front of you, her hands coming to stop her father in his tracks. Tripping through the door, you ran from the house.

“There is nowhere to run!” Elena’s father screamed, pushing past Elena as he chased after you. “There is nowhere in this village she won’t find you!” He shouted as you tore down the makeshift road coated in ice. Elena's quivering voice called his name, and you looked over your shoulder to see him raise his hand to strike her. You stopped, stuck in a choice of helping her, or help yourself. “Leave, Y/N!” Elena called. With a heavy heart, you continued to run, tripping and slipping on the ice. His curses echoed down the path as you ran past silent houses, not stopping until his laughter was nothing more than a dull ringing in your ears.

Looking over your shoulder periodically, you plodded onwards, back into the village in hopes you’d be able to retrace your steps to the accommodation Duke had given you. You struggled along the icy path; your fingers shoved deep into your coat pockets. You noticed a fork in the road, realising Elena’s house was the opposite way to your destination. With a sigh, you started down the long road, your free hand coming to steady yourself on the fence. It was eerily quiet. You had grown used to busy streets, the sound of silence foreign to city dwellers. And, despite the purple sky breaking into orange, the beautiful snow ladened trees and man-made roads, you missed the dirty city you called home. You knew after this trip, you could never go to a remote place again. Comfort came with noise.  

In the distance, down the long road, was a stone cottage. Snow covered the roof, icicles hanging like small daggers from the drip edge. A chimney stood tall, begging you to come inside and light a fire. This must be the cottage Duke spoke of.

 A faded outhouse sat next to the small cottage. You walked towards it, opening and looking in. Behind the tattered white door was a simple bench with a hole. The interior was tiled on the bench and floor, a small, frosted window on the right side. You shuddered to think of using it in the night. Even with a candles glow and a door between yourself and the cold, you thought Mr Lupu stood outside, the same deranged look in his eyes. You shook your head, knocking the thoughts out of it. Next to the outhouse was a small but bountiful wood and coal store. Logs were piled high, and you peaked within the coal bunker to see a mass of black. In the fenced off garden was a well and a sunken in shed. You decided to not look in either of those two, and instead tried your hand at opening the faded green door of the cottage. You struggled, seething as your cold hand touched the frozen handle. After a couple of hip bumps, it finally gave way and opened. You tripped into it, catching yourself on the door frame. You entered quickly, shutting the door behind you, putting a wall between you and the freezing morning. You shivered, rubbing your hands together.

The space was as expected, small and compact. On the right side of the room was a large fireplace. The coal bucket next to it was filled to the brim, a couple of pieces had rolled out, leaving black dust on the stone. A pile of dry logs and bundled kindling sat in a wicker basket. A sunken single bed was in the corner, a thick blanket pulled to protect it from dust. Opposite the front door was a small kitchen area with a sink and cabinets. Your eyes scanned the blue, chipping wall to a curtain that cut off half the room. You slowly approached it; your hand outstretched to protect yourself. You grabbed the material, slowly dragging it back. You held your breath... and made eye contact with a single bathtub. You took an embarrassed breath, laughing to yourself. 

You walked towards the chair, pulling off your boots and kicking them to the side. You bent to sit but paused seeing a basket sitting on the wooden side table. It was overflowing with breads, cheeses, bottles of wine and wrapped meats. A small envelope peaked from the gifts, and you picked it up. As you opened the letter, you broke off a piece of the stale bread and ate it.  

Welcome, Y/N. I hope this cottage suits your needs. Although it is small in size, it holds heat well! I have left a small supplies basket. Although you have met this village in a less than ideal manner, I hope this allows you to see the beauty offered in this small region.

So, rest, bathe and drink!

-The Duke.

“They love notes here.” You murmured, flipping the card over to see further details.

(I have gifted to you the most delicious wine. I recommend you drink it with the cheese- its famous for its wonderful taste and rare ingredients. The wine was made right here in this village by our beloved Lady Dimitrescu!)

You froze, reading the card again.

“That lying piece of...” You cursed, standing up quickly. You read the note five times over, cursing Heisenberg’s name repeatedly. There was a winery in the village. “You bastard.” You scolded the air, imagining Heisenberg stood in front of you.

You paused: There is a castle full of death and darkness... The Lady who lives there is cruel... This Lady Dimitrescu must live in the castle- She must know where Liliana is!

You paced the small space in frustration, eating cheese as you talked to the air. “Why would Heisenberg lie to me about the winery? He’s obviously protecting this lady of the village, whoever she is. Probably his lover.” You tore off bread with your teeth, munching it with an open mouth. “Why would you come here? Why?” You scolded Liliana. “This stupid, fancy rich people wine cannot be this good.” You growled, picking it up. You weighed it in your hands. “Sanguis Virginis.” You murmured, reading the faded gold label. The neck of the bottle was ornamented with silver flowers. They were intricate and detailed beautifully. “Why would Duke gift me this?” You wondered, feeling the expensive silver under your fingers. You placed it back in the basket and sat heavily onto the chair, sucking air between your teeth at the sharp pain suddenly hitting your body. You had only been awake for an hour or so and already you had exhausted yourself.

You sat in silence, sucking on your thumbnail, tearing and biting it. You were in a silent rage, your aching leg tapping the floor expectantly. You knew that Heisenberg was lying. Of course, he was. It was clear that he and this Lady were close. He never would have thrown her under the bus. You sighed, feeling idiotic for putting so much trust in this stranger. He was obviously a madman. Insane from his days of isolation in his factory.

With a sigh, you looked towards the bath and felt in your pocket the green bottle that Duke had gifted you. “A bath should fix me up.” You murmured, walking and turning on the tap. You grimaced, watching as the water ran brown, but within seconds it was running a clear colour. You read the bottle, struggling to understand the Romanian language scrawled on the label. But, judging by the green plus, you shrugged, pouring the bottle into the bath. You watched as it mixed into the water, leaving a subtle smell of greenery. You inhaled, your mind washing back to rainy days at home. The smell of the earth after it had rained always comforted you. As the water ran, you went to light the fire, remembering your days of camping with Liliana and friends. You thanked your sister for hating getting her hands dirty, otherwise you never would have lit a fire. Soon it roared and you grinned, holding your cold hands up to the heat.

The sound of water and a roaring fire almost lulled you into a trance, your mind foggy with thoughts of Heisenberg and Elena. You thought back to her, cringing as you remembered her father striking her and the panicked yelp she let out. You squeezed your eyes shut, your fist gripping the hem of your clothes. Had you not been so weak, you would have protected her. You sighed, rubbing your head. “I hope you’re okay.” You whispered, getting up and approaching the bath once more.

You smiled, dipping your cut up hand into the water. You hummed, sniffing the air as your hand swirled in the water. You stopped suddenly, the feeling of static running up your arm. You pulled it out quickly, cursing yourself for being so quick to trust Duke. He could have given you anything! You stared at your hand, feeling as the static washed over your fingers, up to your wrist. But, to your surprise, you watched as your cuts met, sewing themselves up automatically. Your mouth hung open. Without closing your lips, you dipped your other hand up to the elbow, watching as the deep scratches Heisenberg had grabbed, healed within seconds. “Oh my God.” You whispered, tearing off your clothes, shrieking as your body met with the lukewarm water.

You sat, shivering, feeling your aches and pain disperse. With a content moan, you slid further into the water, knowing that tomorrow you would be heading to the castle.