AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A body rested on the porch of a cottage, the woman’s chest torn open, blood pooling around her. Bile rose up Eirah’s throat.
Almost every single home looked as though it had been rampaged or completely destroyed by fire, and a gut feeling told her more dead bodies lingered inside them. What sort of creatures could have done this? Snow lions wouldn’t attack villages.
And then she discovered where the smoke in front of her was coming from. A choked sob escaped her throat as she stared at where her cottage had once stood. But now it was burned to the ground, nothing but broken pieces and ash.
“Papa,” Eirah whispered. Her words grew louder as she screamed, “Papa!” There was nothing to search through because she could see everything. Nothing was there to salvage, not even her father’s body if he’d gone down in flames with their home.
Holding onto hope, she raced next door to Saren’s. She prayed her father was with them, but dread filled her as she stared at the door thrown open.
“Saren!” Eirah called. “Petre!” Gripping the ice dagger, she slipped inside the cottage. The furniture was cracked and broken. Sewing items were slung about. Mattresses slashed.
No one answered as she screamed their names again in the empty rooms.
Eirah stumbled out of Saren’s home, scanning the surrounding cottages. Tears pricked her eyes as her body shook. She wasn’t certain what to do. As she took a step forward to knock on every single door in the village, Adair swooped down from above, circling her.
He flew toward the trees beside the remains of her house, then back to her, before heading in that direction once more. He seemed to want her to follow him.
Eirah held her breath while letting him lead her into the forest. As she stepped around a large trunk, a bright orange flame caught her attention. Atorch.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered her father was the one holding the torch. “Papa!” she cried.
He turned around, straining to look at her beneath his broken glasses. “Daughter, is that you?” His voice cracked on the last word.
She hurried toward him, finding him not alone, but with Saren and— Eirah ceased movement. The world stopped—everything stopped. Resting in Saren’s arms as she sobbed was Petre. He lay still, his throat torn out, blood staining his chest.
“These creatures came,” Saren cried, her teeth chattering, her lips blue. “They broke into the cottage and we ran, hid in the forest. We thought we were safe, but one must have followed us and tried to attack me. But Petre, foolish Petre, risked himself. Fedir came and scared the creature away. But it was too late. Why did Petre do this? Why? I would’ve rather it had been me.”
“No.” Eirah tucked the dagger at her waist and lowered herself beside her friend, wrapping her arms around her. “You’re alive, and you’ll stay that way.” She then looked at her father, his face drained of any color. “What happened, Papa? What were these things?”
“I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before. They were gangly and pale yellow with sharp teeth. One crashed through the window and attacked me. As I put up a fight, I knocked over a few candles, flames started licking across the floor, and it fled, afraid of the fire. I warned the village to light torches, and that helped to drive them out. Then I found Saren here, and I can’t get her to return to the village.”
“Saren,” Eirah said softly. “We need to get you home for now. We can come back in the morning. You’ll freeze out here.”
“I’m not leaving Petre here!” she snapped.
“Then I’ll help you take him home, and in the morning, we’ll bury him,” Eirah whispered.
It took Saren a long moment to respond before she slowly nodded. Eirah then helped her carry Petre to the cottage while her father hobbled beside them.
“Are you all right?” Eirah asked.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get them home.”
Once they entered Saren’s cottage, they took Petre to his bedroom, where glass was shattered on the floor from the broken window. They laid him atop the ripped mattress, and Saren drew the blankets up to his chin, covering the wound on his neck.
“I’m going to stay with him a while,” Saren said, leaving no room for argument.
“I’m truly sorry about this.” A flood of memories washed over her of Petre. How he would tag along when they were younger, always bringing Eirah flowers he’d picked.
“It isn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re here.” Saren wiped her tears, then sank down in a chair beside her brother’s bed and wrapped herself in a fur blanket.
Eirah went back into the sitting room, where flames were already lit inside the fireplace. Her father removed his cloak and she gasped. Wounds covered his arms, and claw marks slashed his chest and back.
“You said you were fine! This isn’t fine!” she hissed, guiding her father to the settee. “Stay here while I find a healer.”
“You’re alive,” he murmured, his breaths ragged.
“Do not leave this spot—do you hear me?” Eirah rushed out of the cottage, finding Morozko standing outside next door, peering at the remains of her home.
