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It's almost as if it isn't burning at all.
I rub my eyes, but the dream persists. Turning, I suddenly realize the shadow lurking in the corner of my vision isn't a figment of my imagination, but a man.
My heart leaps into my throat as I scramble back on the couch, drawing the furs and my knees up to my chest in the process. The shadows around him swirl, and though he doesn't move, I can feel his eyes on me.
Slowly, he cocks his skull-masked face to one side.
"Are you afraid, little one?"
I blink at him, unsure of how to answer him. But how can I when I don't know who he is?
Perhaps I hit my head harder than I thought, one glance around this room. One glance at him and the darkness that clings to him should be enough to send me running for my life.
And yet, it only makes me more curious about him.
"Should I be?" I finally answer.
He says nothing, watching me for a long moment, and I do my best to hold his gaze. It's not easy staring into the endless abyss of his black eyes. They unsettle me to no end, but I refuse to release myself from them.
Tentatively, he takes a step forward, and I involuntarily stiffen.
"I suppose that depends," he says, his deep voice is quiet and yet fills the room with its presence. "Tell me, what is the deal you wish to make with me?"
I frown as I search my mind. My memories seem faded, as if shrouded in a heavy fog … Closing my eyes, it takes a long moment before my heart pangs with remembrance.
"Father," I gasp, opening my eyes, "I need help saving my father's life."
The masked stranger eyes me before asking, "What makes you think that I am capable of helping you with such a thing as that?"
There's an edge to his voice, but I don't let it scare me.
"I don't know," I start, my words falling quiet as I realize that I have no real way of answering his question. "I wouldn't have come to you, except that I was told to."
"Who told you?"
"A witch. I'm afraid I don't know her name. She said you could help me. That if I went north, an didn't stray from the path, I'd find the one who could save my father."
His skepticism is obvious, despite his face being hidden, and I frown as I try to think of a way to prove what I'm saying is true. I don't know why, but it suddenly seems important to do so.
"She has a cottage in the middle of the woods," I say, racking my mind for details about her appearance, but coming up short. "I must admit, I don't remember what she looks like, but she's the one who gave me the pink cloak and crystal."
Suddenly remembering the crystal, I realize it's still clasped in my hand. I extend my hand to show him, only to find the crystal is no longer pink and has lost its soft glow. All that is left is a small, obsidian stone in its place.
I stare at it in disbelief for a long moment before lifting my eyes back to the man.
"Ravynne," he mutters.
Hope rises in my chest at this, realizing this must be the witch's name.
"So, is it true?" I ask. "Can you save my father?"
"Of course, I can," he says with a deep sigh, "but saving a life requires the greatest cost of any bargain one can make."
"I don't care," I say quickly. "I'll do anything, give you anything, to save him. Please."
He watches me for a long minute. I can feel his eyes moving across my face, searching for something, though what, I do not know.
Hope and quiet desperation well up inside me as I wait, clutching the furs with both hands to keep myself from doing something foolish like running to prostrate myself at his feet.
