She wordlessly followed the clergyman who led the way around the walkway of the atrium, rounded stone archways giving her a full view of the thick layers of snow that covered every inch of the garden. In the center of the atrium sat a statue of a saint cut from marble, her head bowed as she stood atop a frozen fountain. Forgotten, covered in a thick layer of snow. Dressed in an eternal shroud. Her sorrow a shroud of itself.
When they arrived at the north end of the atrium, facing a long hall that led into the infirmary, the clergyman paused. He turned and motioned her forward, his eyes gingerly going from her to the single wooden doorway at the end of the hall.
Anelize paused, taking notice of his hesitancy. “Thank you. I can find my way from here,” she said, and it was enough for him to turn on his heel and hurry away. Much like all the clergymen did, for it was the one day when they could receive areprieve of witnessing what laid beyond that door. Until the rooms of the dormitory slowly found themselves empty.
Her boots clicked along the marble hall, the winds from the atrium creating a wailing howl in her wake as she approached the door. The closer she got to entering the infirmary, the more the scent of rotting flesh invaded her senses. She supposed it was a good thing Elvir was encased in eternal winter, otherwise it would have been unbearable even for her, no matter how accustomed she’d grown to the scent of the sick and dying.
Taking a steadying breath, she quickly retrieved a white cloth from the leather satchel at her side and tied it around her nose and mouth before placing her hand over the bronze handle of the door. As she entered the infirmary, she couldn’t help but think that Enid had every right not to want to enter this condemned place. For the ghastly sight of decaying bodies lying in beds was enough to create the worst of nightmares for many years to come.
3
Anelize would never forget the first time she’d laid eyes upon someone taken by the malady.
The rot.
The lifeless eyes.
Theblood.
So much blood it looked as though she had stepped into an ocean of it.
It happened many years ago, one late night when frantic fists had banged on the door of their shop, stirring the house awake.
Her father had received word from the Dobrins that the children residing in the apartment on the east side of the port had come begging for help for their parents after they had gone missing and returned…strange. Nearly unrecognizable after having been missing for days. Anelize, being her father’s apprentice, had insisted on accompanying him, despite his protests.
It was only when she’d stood within the threshold of the apartment that Anelize wondered if she should have listened to him. Her heart making its way up her throat, for when they stepped into the too small apartment on the other side of town, the only thing her eyes could see wasred.
Dozens of pages with markings drawn haphazardly littered the ground where furniture had been pushed aside. Seated inthe center of the parlor, surrounded by them, was a couple. Unmoving as they faced each other, their bloodied hands clasped together. Their half-lidded eyes white as snow. A bloodied dagger discarded on the ground between them. Their bodies carved into jagged, strange markings. As if they’d gone and attacked one another before reconciling.
The stench of death filled the air like smoke.
Neither of them had fought—or so much as acknowledged—Anelize and her father as they tended to their wounds. Stitching what they could, bandaging what wouldn’t. They’d remained in that apartment well into the morning until it was done.
“What happened to them?” Anelize asked after they’d gotten the couple to bed. Their movements slow and mindless as they allowed themselves to be led.
Anelize would never forget the day she saw her father’s grim face for the first time when he had always been nothing short of warm and kind. So much like Enid. But the unmistakable fear as he looked at her had remained after that night. Haunting him, though he had refused to say why.
“The price to pay for power will always be seeped in blood, Anelize. But power will only answer when it is returned.”
Anelize had wondered what he’d meant by those words and how they kept ringing in her ears long after that night.
It wasn’t the last time she’d encounter the first traces of the malady to appear. People would slowly disappear for days on end, before eventually returning to their homes. But they were never the same. And the longer someone remained dormant, lacking in their will to live, the more the rot took root. And eventually, they wandered the city late in the night like mindless puppets, their skin decaying and their lives witheringaway day by day. Until, one day, they disappeared again. Into the forest, never to be found again. Until the monsters came out to hunt.
And in the end, there was no one left to blame but the very abominations born with strange, terrible power coursing through their veins.
The Vedrans.
By the time Anelize returned to the shop, the sun had begun to descend behind the peaks.
As sundown approached, many had already begun to disperse at the first sight of the sun lowering itself beneath the shifting clouds. The barking commands of Watchmen only fueling their sense of urgency as more armed men patrolled the streets. Mothers rushed their children home with hushed whispers, merchants closed their stalls in a hurry, and even the vermin seeking to feast upon waste in the alleys seemed to scurry away at the slightest sounds.
Slowly the streets were vacated, and as Anelize reached the stoop of the shop, she could not ignore the silence that came when the last door was slammed shut on their street, save for the winds sending flurries of snow through the air. The fear was a deafening knell felt throughout the city. As it often was every night. For that was when death came to stalk the streets, looking for its prey.
The sound of Magda’s aggravated voice greeted Anelize as she walked into the shop, the bell chiming overhead announcing her arrival. Her aunt’s unhappiness rarely surprised her, though whatdidsurprise her was the fact thatshe was rummaging through the shelves and drawers behind the counter. The graying hair bunched atop her head reminded Anelize of a crow’s nest, the long strands framing her aunt’s ruddy face. Her cheeks painted to splotches of red with her annoyance as she continued searching for something, knocking empty vials over the counter in her haste. Anelize caught one before it could roll off the edge and shatter against the hardwood floor.
“Lost something, have you?” she asked, her tone dry.
Magda’s head whipped over her shoulder, and she leveled her niece with a barely restrained look of contempt. “I see you’ve finally deigned to grace me with your presence.”
