Everywhere in the village, of Ritorà torches were lit in the houses. The children would run around in the moonlight and chase fireflies. Even if the night was cold, they would have played in the rain and their parents would have run after them, but since it rained all evening, that might have changed the normal routine.

It was night; the rain had not stopped since sunset, people had retired from work to warm themselves by the fire in the hearth at their homes. Aldéris' house was no different.

"Malak!"

"Malak!"

A voice called out to him. He could see nothing. All he saw was darkness, darkness in its entirety. It was nothingness. He could neither feel, nor see, nor speak. All of his senses were called to rest except for one, which allowed him to listen and understand. He could hear only one voice, that one voice called to him in a strange dialect.

"Malak!" it called to him, echoing through the endless darkness. The voice of a middle-aged man, cold, raspy, and deep enough to make one tremble.

"Londræ gi wo'a ka ko,"

{Listen to my call}

"Ota meha kao latan,"

{It's close}

Even when it spoke to him in a foreign dialect, he understood. A living being within him-his soul-could interpret. He had no explanation why he could assign a particular meaning to the series of foreign sounds he heard.

"ka otré, ka uno, ka oras"

{the ashes, the blood, the blade}

"Ka otré, ka uno, ka oras"

{"the ashes, the blood, the blade"}

"Ka otré, ka uno, ka oras"

{"The ashes, the blood, the blade"}

Castar came to consciousness, gasping, and shook himself out of the bed by his shoulders and upper back. The first thing his eyes saw was the face of Isher, who leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest. Isher was shocked at the energy with which Castar got up. For someone who had been out for several hours, Castar was too agile. Isher could not really think about all that, as he was just happy to see that Castar was fine. 

Castar had regained consciousness, and he was beginning to recollect the memories of what had happened before he passed out. He recalled everything after a few minutes–from the point where he held the stranger's hand and drew out the poison to the point where he saw she was beginning to breathe normally. 

"Brother! You are awake," Isher said to him. He had sat beside his brother all along, waiting until he regained consciousness. He had to suspend everything else just to be by Castar’s side.

Isher pushed him back into bed gently and he sighed. "Castar, you need rest," he said.

He was not thinking straight at that moment. All he thought of was the girl. He would prefer to have died than to figure out something bad happened to the girl. He would regret it for the rest of his life even as he didn't know her. 

"The girl, where is she?" asked Castar. He squeezed his forehead to rid himself of the slight headache. He could barely think about himself. All he cared about was whether or not the girl survived.

"She's fine, resting too," Isher said, and Castar let out a sigh of relief. 

There was a silence. No one spoke.

"Are you all right?" asked Isher, and Castar nodded. The look on his face showed worry.

"Why do you ask? Do I not look well to you?" he replied. 

"While you were sleeping, you kept talking. The same words repeatedly," Isher told him, and his eyebrows drew together. The word Malak was regenerated in his head and he did not know why he was being called that name in his dream. The rest of the strange word he could interpret, but he wasn't able to translate the word Malak, and it made him conclude that it was a name. 

"What were my words?" asked Castar. He was curious. He wanted to know if what Isher claimed to have heard from his mouth was related to the dream he had.

"The ashes, the blood, the blade," Isher told him, and his eyes widened. Isher said it exactly as it came out of Castar’s mouth. He made no mistake. Castar’s heart pumped so fast. He had no idea what the dream meant, but he would have preferred to keep it to himself. 

He remembered the dream he had just woken from, every detail, but he did not know he was voicing what he heard the voice say. He remained silent as he thought about it. The part that wrinkled his forehead was that he did not know how he was able to translate.

"What does that mean?" asked Isher, looking into Castar's eyes like they had the answers to all of his questions. He was beyond curious, wanting to know the exact thing Castar saw in his dreams. All of Isher's thought at that moment were pure, and he would go to any length to see that Castar was ok. 

"I do not know. It was just something I heard someone say in a dream," he replied, and Isher's eyebrows met in curiosity.

 “But...you must have remembered something. The voice, the face, anything at all. You must try to remember,” Isher said to him and he sighed. 

"Does not it matter to you?"

"Should it?" asked Castar, and Isher's gaze dropped to the floor.

"No, you are right, it should not," Isher said.

Castar told him the absolute truth. He really had no idea what that meant. He could not stop pondering as well.

THE GUEST ROOM

She opened her eyes and saw herself lying on a bed, in a room she did not know where it was. She was not scared; she was not the type to fear strange places. She only wondered.

She glanced at the window and saw that it was raining. The wall the window was against was the side of the room she had woken up in. She averted her gaze from the window and took a moment to look at herself.

She was startled to see that someone had dressed her in a loose woollen dress. She pinched two areas of the dress as she wondered who must have put her in those clothes and why.

The boys? she asked herself, and the thought made her gag. She would kill them if they were the ones who changed her clothes. How dare they, she thought.

She sat up and saw the clothes she had put on earlier lying next to her on the bed. All this time, she didn't even bother to inspect the room.

"Do not worry, I made sure the boys stayed away," she heard a woman's voice say to her, and she shivered. She was unaware that anyone had been watching her. To think of it, the voice answered the question she had asked herself.

"I thought you needed some air, so I took you off it," the woman added as the girl turned to face her. She was a woman who was over 49-years-old, but could be mistaken for someone who was in her mid-30s. She looked younger than she had aged. She placed a black scarf over her black hair and let the two ends fall over her royal blue dress.

She nodded. Even though she did not say a word, the woman could read it in her eyes that she appreciated her help.

The girl wondered if such women still existed, someone who cared for her once in years. Her encounters with so many people had made her think everyone was cruel. The woman standing before her proved to be different, or perhaps it was because she did not know the girl's life story yet.

She remembered what had happened after she had met Castar and Isher. She remembered falling into his arms. Her eyes wandered to her arm, and she was stunned to see that there was no poison there.

"You were lucky. From what my son described, I was thinking you were fated to lose your life to it. My son is a gifted healer, but I still do not understand how he could have saved you from something like this."

If she had known that he used magic, she would not have asked this question. But no one uses magic, because only the Kranía tribe possessed it years ago. How could she have thought her child possessed magic?

She looked down at her arm again, imagining what would have happened to her if she had not met Castar in time.

"May I know your name?"

"The huntress," the young woman replied in just above a whisper, and the woman in front of her chuckled in disbelief.

"The huntress. For a girl who seems so tough, you have a keen sense of humour," the woman added between short bursts of laughter.

The girl did not joke about her name. That was what everyone in her hometown called her. Her brows drew together in uncertainty as she watched the woman laugh.

"I do not say things to make people laugh. Everything I say is for a purpose, and that purpose can be anything but to make someone laugh," she said, and the woman's brows drew together.

"The huntress, is that really the name you were given by your parents?" the woman asked and she sighed.

"I never knew my parents. That name was given to me by an entire village, my home," she said to the woman.

"I am so sorry, my child," she said to the young girl, and she nodded. No one has ever told her sorry for that. She wondered why this woman was so nice.

"My name is Zyra! I am sorry for laughing where I should not have," she said to the young girl and held out her hand.

She stared at Zyra's hand for a moment before realising it was okay to put her hand in Zyra's.

They released their hands from each other.

"Your son, the one who healed me. I have to thank him and make my payments, if you do not mind," she said to Zyra.

Zyra's expression changed.

"Is he all right?" she asked. She knew the expression on Zyra's face was one of concern.

"I think he's fine. He has not opened his eyes since," Zyra whispered to her and her face wrung. Her gaze fell to her hand, and she turned it back to Zyra.

"If you will allow me, I would like to see him," she asked, and Zyra nodded.

Before she could take her legs off the bed, Isher swaggered in and he seemed to carry news for his mother. The smile on his face told them it was a good one.

"Mother, he's awake!" said Isher to Zyra and her eyes widened with a grin.

"Thank the spirits! My son is fine," Zyra said as she held Isher's hand.

"Go! Tell your brother that someone wants to see him and that she will be with him soon," Zyra instructed Isher, and he hurriedly left the room.

"You said you wanted to see him. Now would be a good time. Who's to say he will not just go back to sleep?" Zyra told her and she nodded.

CASTAR'S ROOM

Castar's room was the second largest when it came to spaciousness. There was a wooden shelf for his books, a closet for his clothes and his collection of bracelets, an armchair next to the bed. It was one of those things that made Isher envious. He then said, "After all, I am the first son. I should get most of the space," and Aldéris said, "You should not be jealous of your brother."

Isher showed Castar so much care, but that did not stop him from wondering why everything was always about Castar. He loved him, but when he was deprived of things that were important to him, he always tended to blame Castar. He had always believed Castar to be the favourite son, and he desired that position.

Castar lay on his bed, propping his back on it. The sheets were pulled up to his chest, and his head was supported by a soft pillow filled with feathers. The room was so comfortable that he could hardly sleep anywhere else. 

Zyra pushed open the wooden door, and the creaking sound caught Castar's attention. She left the door ajar and hurried. She walked in and rushed to Castar’s bed. Her eyes had begun to water, and she became so emotional. 

"Castarius! My beautiful boy," Zyra called to him as she was so stirred. She sat down beside him on the bed.

She grabbed his hands from under the sheet and brought them to her eyes. "Son, what happened to you? We were all so worried," Zyra cried.

Castar could not tell her what had happened in there. He forced himself to grin as he thought of an explanation as to how he had healed the stranger. He could not have told them he used magic, no one would believe it, and if they did, it would be an abomination. Magic was no longer present anywhere on Earth, and he'd need a good explanation to why he possessed magic.

"It... I waited for you because I kept thinking about what might happen to her if Isher did not find you in time. I do not remember what happened next. I woke up and saw Isher sitting next to me," Castar said.

He knew he had just saved himself from explaining to them how he had healed her, so his countenance showed great relief.

"So you are saying you did not heal her," Isher added from the other side of the bed, where he sat in the chair.

Castar nodded. "Her blood must be strong, it must have fought off the poison," Castar told her, and she nodded in agreement.

“Never heard of such. Yes, one's blood can fight off poison and suppress it, but that'd be a poisoning brought about by coming in contact with a poisonous flower like Oin: the bad flower. That thing in her hand was definitely not caused by a bad flower. It was something out of the ordinary. How can a mere human blood cure such a thing?” Isher said, and Zyra turned towards him. 

“I believe Isher has a point. What really happened there? Maybe you should ask her. If her blood could fight the poison, why did she have to carry it that long in her system?” Zyra said.

“Strange, right?” Castar said, and Zyra nodded.

“Indeed. I have never heard of such a poison. She survived it. That's all that matters,” Zyra added.

"There's someone at the door who wants to see you," Zyra told Castar, getting up from the bed.

"Let us give Castarius and our guest some space," Zyra said to Isher, and he also got up from the chair and walked to the door.

As he was about to walk out, he met the girl standing against the wall to his right. Castar noticed Isher staring at her before he walked past her. Earlier in the backyard, there had been some unresolved tension between them.

Zyra kissed Castar on the forehead and left the room. She grinned at the girl and told her to take her time.

Castar could not believe she was the same girl he had seen in the backyard earlier. He saw her come in wearing the maroon dress and saw another side of her that was soft and delicate.

Castar stared at her, not like an ogler would, but like he wanted to see more of who she really was, the one coming towards him, not the black leather clad version of her that he thought was just a mask over her broken personality.

Castar gestured to the armchair and offered her a seat, at which point her eyes drifted to it. She walked towards it and sat down.

He turned in her direction and lay on his side.

"So you lied about the green flashes," she said.

Castar jerked his chest, startled. He feared someone might hear her, and he also thought she was unconscious at that point in time.

"How do you know?" whispered Castar to her. His eyeballs, stretching out.

"I have seen it with my own eyes. You have magic, pure, delicate, and natural," she said.

Castar sighed. He did not think anyone knew about it until he met the huntress. He usually made sure to send his patients to slumber before using his magic.Whoever had referred her to him knew about it too, and she might not have been the only one whose ears had heard. The thought of this alone made his heartbeat quickened.

"No one can know about this. Not my mother, not Isher, please," Castar pleaded, looking her in the eye.

"It's safe with me, I can assure you," she whispered to him, and he nodded.

"That will not stop the news from spreading like a drop of oil on paper. Believe me, no less than two sets of ears will hear about you every day," she said, just above a whisper.

"That is not what I want. Magic is not known in all lands. What happens when word gets out?"

"It's a gift. It should bring you joy, not worry. You will be cherished," she said, and he sighed.

He propped his head back on the pillow and tried to relax. He could not afford to have his secret betrayed.

Since she had entered Castar's room, her left hand had curled into a tight fist. She carried coins, "Artà," as they are used in the north.

"This is your payment. Thank you for everything," she told Castar, opening her hand to show 200 Artà.

"I know that's not much," she said to him, wondering why Castar was staring at her instead of taking the coins.

Castar placed his left hand under hers and used his right to place her fingers over the coins again.

"Keep them!" he said to her.

She could not believe his words and her eyes fell on his hand covering hers. She turned his hand over and poured the coins into it. If Castar had refused to accept payments from other people, he would have dwelled in poverty. "What makes me different?" She asked herself.

"This is a trade. Your healing for my gifts, and it must be completed," she said. It was creepy to her that two people had cared for her within such a short period.

Castar nodded as he realised she was not going to change her mind.

A knock on the door broke the stifling silence between them, and Zyra entered when she heard no response.

"Sorry to interrupt!" Zyra apologised, truly sorry that she had come in without Castar's permission.

"That's quite all right! I was just about to leave. I should be out of Ritorà by now if I really want to make it out of Westland by dawn," she said and stood up. Castar sat up as well.

Zyra furrowed her brow. She glanced at the window and saw how hard the rain was falling and how dark it was outside.

"I am going to pretend I did not hear what you just said," Zyra said in shock.

"Thank you for your hospitality. I will leave your dress on the bed I woke up on," she said, determined to begin her journey on this stormy night.

"I must go back. There is a place I ought to be, and I have wasted so much time already," she said. She noticed Zyra's countenance change.

"I do not even let my sons run around in the garden at this hour. Spirits! You are a girl. If for nothing else, for that I am old enough to be a mother to you... I can't let you leave, not this night," Zyra said.

She massaged her forehead with her fingertips, contemplating her actions from Zyra's point of view. She was not used to the feeling. It was strange for her to have someone care about her.

She knew she could take care of herself, but she also understood Zyra's concern and the motherly care she was trying to show. She did not say yes, but Zyra concluded she would stay the night with them.

"I will prepare the table. The rabbit you brought has done well in my soup," Zyra told her with a grin.

"Thank you for wanting to stay. You will not regret tasting my soup," Zyra told her, and she forced a smile.

THE DINNING ROOM

Isher was indeed ravenous, unable to stop fondling his spoon in anticipation of Zyra's arrival with the pot of soup. Castar joined him, but sat down in the chair opposite him. It was a small, round wooden table, with a candle burning in the middle, so everyone could only set down a small portion of their plates.

Isher pushed two empty wooden plates towards his brother, one for the girl and the other for Castar.

Castar took one and pushed the other beside him to his left.

"Isher, I want you to be nice to her. She'll be joining us soon," Castar told Isher, and he sighed.

For his brother's sake, he would pretend to be at peace with her.

"I would only talk if necessary," Isher replied, and Castar nodded.

The girl arrived at the table. She took one step at a time, trying to be as cautious as she could be. It was someone else's house, so she figured she did not want to cause any problems.

Castar's eyes followed her from the entrance until she stood at the table. Castar knew she would not like sitting near Isher, so he got up and sat in the other chair instead, leaving her in the chair facing Isher. Even though he knew they would look into each other's eyes, he thought it was better.

Zyra came in with a pot, its back blackened with soot from direct contact with the fire. Smoke floated and danced around the rim, and a sweet scent drifted to their noses.

It was quiet. No one spoke a word. The huntress was not very articulate, Isher wanted to speak but was trying to comply with his brother's request, Castar had so much to say to her but was not sure he would get an answer from her, and Zyra was the one serving dinner.

Using a wooden spoon, Zyra ladled the soup from her pot onto Isher's plate.

The soup was a mixture of seasoned water, vegetables, and meat. The meat was the rabbit that the huntress had brought as part of her payment.

Zyra served the girl, leaving out Castar, who was sitting next to Isher. She wondered why Zyra did not serve him. Zyra had served her, and she had gone to her own plate to serve herself.

Isher began to devour what was on his plate and Castar had a smile on his face. She pondered on everything she saw, but tried not to let it show.

Just before she picked up her spoon, Zyra dropped the pot under the table and left the room. She dipped her spoon into the soup and stirred it, trying to see why Castar was still holding his spoon despite being denied food.

Zyra's food was on the table, but she was not sitting next to it, which made her even more curious.

And then she heard Zyra's voice from the doorway and turned around.

"Castarius, your food is ready. I prepared it the way you like it," Zyra said as she hurried over to Castar with another pot in her hand. Castar grinned as he was served the food and received a kiss on the top of his head from his mother.

Zyra sat down, and she too began to eat. The huntress glanced at Castar's plate and found, to her surprise, that there was no meat in Castar's soup. It contained only vegetables and grated grains.

She had so many questions, seeing what was happening around her. Why was Castar's soup prepared in a different pot? Why was there no meat in his? Why did he seem content with what was happening?

She asked herself these questions in her heart as she took the first sip from her spoon.

"Where did you travel from, my child?" asked Zyra of her.

Castar stopped eating and listened as the huntress told of herself. He wanted to ask her that question and so many others, but he was not sure there would ever be a good time to ask.

Isher still had his head buried in his plate, because he was not interested in anything that concerned her, not even the place she came from.

Zyra herself stopped eating just to satisfy her curiosity.

"Kin Hill," she answered. Her voice was calm, gentle, but clear. Zyra was shocked at the name of the place she mentioned.

"Kin Hill has been deserted since before I was born. It is an isolated hill that lies in a wilderness far beyond all lands to the north. What was your purpose there?" asked Zyra.

"It may have long been abandoned by humans, but the wolves have long made it their home," she answered Zyra.

"My job there is to keep the wolves away and keep them from invading my village, which is closest to it," the huntress added as she continued to stir her soup.

"Is not it dangerous to fight them alone?" asked Castar, and she turned to face him.

"To be honest, it is! But it's the only thing that gives me any value," she said. No one understood what she meant by that, but they could not ask any more questions.

After taking her last sip, she moved the plate along. She got to her feet and placed her hands on the table.

"Thank you so much for the soup. It was just as you said it would be, and I did not regret tasting it," she said to Zyra as she rose from her chair, and Zyra grinned.

"I'd like to get some fresh air outside your house, if you do not mind," she said to Zyra.

"You are free to spend as much time outside as you like," Zyra told her.

Before she left, she glanced at Castar's plate again, and it seemed Isher noticed. She left the table not only because she needed fresh air but also because she did not enjoy talking to people about her life.

"Castarius," Zyra whispered to him, gesturing towards the entrance. Castar knew his mother wanted him to keep the girl company since it was dark outside. He got up from his chair and left the dining room. As he walked out of the house, he saw her sitting on the bench that was under the eaves. The rain was beginning to recede and the sound of dripping was the only thing they could both hear.

He walked over to her and sat down next to her. Her eyes were fixed on nothing. She looked anywhere but beside her where Castar sat. There was silence. No one spoke for a moment. If she could, she would have pretended not to have felt his presence, but he was too close not to be noticed.

"Thank you for agreeing to spend a night with us," Castar said, and she nodded.

"Everyone ate the rabbit I brought for you, but you," she whispered, still not looking at him. Castar chuckled.

"I do not know what it tastes like," said Castar to her.

"Rabbit?" she asked, still looking at the raindrops pattering on the grasses.

"Meat!" He replied.

She could not stop herself from turning to look at him. She didn't ask him to explain, but her countenance betrayed curiosity.

"I grew up with my mother saying that to me. She cooked and served meat to the whole family, but I only got vegetables. When I turned 15, I tried to ask and... She told me it was making me sick. The weird thing is, I do not remember that. Could something make me sick if I never even tasted it?" Castar told her.

"Do you believe her?" she asked, and he sighed.

"I do not, but she is my mother, after all. I think it's for the best. She would keep nothing good from me," he told her, and she averted her eyes to look at the raindrops again.

Castar had questions for her as well, but he was not sure if she would answer.

"I would like to know your name, something I would call you the next time we meet," Castar said to her, as if counting his words.

"Who said we'd meet again?"

"Well, I hope so. Fate has its own plans, and we are just its puppets," he said, and she looked him in the eye.

"The huntress," she said, and Castar's face crinkled.

"Did your parents give you that name?" he asked.

"No, I earned it," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I do not want to talk about it," she said, and Castar sighed.

"I just told you something I never like to talk about. I did not like it when I said it. I said it because it's something that deserves to be heard," he said to her, and her eyes fell on her fingers.

"I was found in a forest somewhere in Metrá. The entire village thought I was cursed for my parents to have abandoned me. A woman found me and took me in, but the villagers never accepted me. They gave me a name, they called me Crónai," she said.

Castar's eyes watered. He could only imagine what she had passed through. He thought that was why she acted the way she did. He thought that was what made her appear to be so tough.

"Crónai, what does that mean?" he asked her.

"Daughter of the demon," she replied.

"I had been abandoned in the forest, but a woman found me and took me in. She died when I had just turned 16 and I was homeless again. The villagers wanted me out of the village, no one would have me. I had nothing to eat, no clothes to wear, no shelter, nothing. I wanted to survive, so I took the job no one else wanted to do. I started hunting wolves that crossed the area between Kin Hill and my village. I killed them to protect life and property for money and food, and I slept wherever the moon hit me," she said to Castar as she also faded back.

"That's how I earned their respect. So they stopped calling me Crónai and gave me a new name, the huntress," she said.

"I am sorry," Castar told her, and she said nothing. She was just still, looking impassively into the distance.

"The woman who found you must differ from the others. She must have given you a name," Castar asked.

"Why did I need the name she gave me when everyone preferred to call me Crónai?" she said.

"I'd still like to hear it," Castar demanded. "those were your people, not me," he added.

"Era," she whispered, looking Castar in the eye.

"It's beautiful," Castar whispered, and she said nothing.

Maybe she felt like she had already said so much. Castar traded his story for hers. That was the only reason she talked to him for so long.

"The poison, where did you get it?" asked Castar, as he remembered he had wanted to ask her about it earlier.

"Kin Hill," she replied. Castar had hoped she would give more details about how it happened, but she did not.

"I know you have already told me so much about yourself, and I appreciate that, but as your healer, I need to know what kind of poison I dealt with... please," Castar told her and she sighed.

"I have no idea what it was. The night I got infected, there was a thick black mist on the top of the hill. I was tracking a wolf, but when it reached the mist on the hilltop, I lost it. The mist began to swirl as I watched from a distance," she said to Castar, and his eyes widened.

"Do you think the mist was poisonous and that it must have been the source of the poison?" He asked her, and she nodded.

"It was night. I could not see clearly, but I could have sworn I saw a human figure through the mist swirling at the top of the hill," she told him.

"What made you change your mind?" asked Castar.

"I have come to the conclusion that my eyes have played a trick on me by making figures out of the swirling mist," she said to him.

"Why did you think that?" asked Castar.

"What kind of person has a glowing mark on their forehead and an ear that was as pointed as a fox's?" she asked as memories of what she had seen that night came back to her mind.