J. M. Prigmore

Jan 24, 2025 by J. M. Prigmore

Didn't think we'd get to see any snow down here this year, and yet there I was, watching tiny flecks of crystalline water float gently in the wind in the light of a flourescent bulb. It made for a fun day, as it always is for me, watching the rarity that is snow accumulate and then promptly melt in the heat of the sun. For us down here, never prepared for events like that, the most we can do is sit at home and say 'cool'. I never complain, and I likely never will.

So I know I said last week that I was hoping to finish up the story this week, but I don't think I'm going to make that deadline. Whatever. I'm confident that, assuming nothing crazy happens, next week won't make a liar out of me again. I'm going for a nice, clean twenty chapters, and I'm already a decent chunk into 19. It's both a bit of a relief to be so close to the end, but I'm also a little sad. I've really grown to love these characters, and setting them aside is going to be hard. There's nothing stopping me from coming back to them in the future of course, but for now, I have other plans for when I'm done with Yelena. So yeah, look forward to these weekly posts coming to an end soon.

I hope that everyone is enjoying the different kind of story I've written here. While I can't lie and claim that my general style is any different, I hope I was able to properly convey the tone I was going for. A little more whimsical, a little lighter, a little more personal. Sigmund's story is one of weight and pain, fille with characters who are in similar situations and less hopeful than my darling Yelena, and while that's easier for me to write, it's always good to change things up from time to time. I can only hope that I did a good job of conveying that to you, dear reader.

I also hope that my attempt at a more fleshed out romance is going well, though I admit that its not quite like what most would consider a 'romance' plot would be. I'm not quite comfortable making that my main focus, both because I don't feel as though I could do a queer romance proper justice (being a cis-het guy), and also because I'm just not well-versed enough in romance as a genre of writing in general. I do love a good romance plot in media (anime, sorry), but most of what I've read in my life were high fantasy, sci-fi, or military sci-fi. If any of them did involve romance, it was always the B, or even C, plot. Still, I think this was a good excercise for myself to become more comfortable with the genre as a whole, and I want to be better at writing convincing relationships that people want to know more about. I doubt I'll ever write a pure romance novel though. I just have no interest in such a thing, not for anything other than playing around with ideas. Fantasy, sci-fi, and paranormal stuff will always be my go-to.

Did you know I wrote a few creepy cosmic horror short stories and made YouTube videos out of them, voiced by me? I even sourced music and sound effects to make them even more unsettling. Go check them out, the channel name is Cosmic Predication. Not prediction. Predication. Different word. I need to edit those down and post them on here, actually. Might do that once this is done. They won't need much work, but I was writing them with the intention of reading them aloud, so they have a bit of a script-like tone to them most likely. I'll work on that later.

The next two chapters have some interesting stuff that kind of pertains to that side of my interests, but no spoilers. Read what's below to find out I guess! But that'll do it for this week. I need to get back to working on the actual story and wrap it all up. Stay warm and dry, and stay safe. Until next time,

Make your own fate
J. M. Prigmore

Ch. 17

Yelena had been walking for hours, seemingly aimlessly, but guided by the magical contrail of the fey Aine through the Deep Forest. The sun had long since set, giving way to a full moon that lit the forest with a golden glow that cast long shadows. She was hardly inexperienced when it came to roaming the woods at night, but for whatever reason, tonight felt…different. As she had walked, she could swear that she had heard whispers, indecipherable tickling phrases that just eluded her mind's understanding. The weight of eyes resting on her, the occasional creak of a tree just out of her line of sight, the chilling breeze that came from differing directions, it was all combining to put her ill at ease. She had never been afraid of the dark, but something was off here. Perhaps it was the after effects of that awful brew Helvetia had made for her. That's what she kept telling herself, anyway. The moon and stars had lit her path, and she'd been left alone by any nocturnal beasts thus far. Still, she just couldn't shake the feeling that she was been stalked by something. It was a creeping feeling in the back of her mind, a cold shiver down her neck, goosebumps on her arms. She pressed on all the same.

Eventually the traces of Aine's magic began to fade, swallowed up by the residual magic energy that floated as abundant as the air she breathed and lost to her weak senses. She had a feeling that she was close, however. The night was still heavy all around her, its quiet pressing down on her ears with an invisible pressure that left her desperate for something to break the silence besides her own shuffling footsteps. Her breathing was slow and steady, her mind focused on the environment around her. This deep into the forest, there was no telling what awful monstrosities lurked behind any tree, what terrible fiend might leap out from the underbrush to try and steal her life. Every few feet she'd stop and listen, her hearing filled only with the sound of her heart and her breath. There was nothing out here. No birds, no squirrels, no wolves, no insects…nothing. She was utterly alone, save for the tall pines and their dead needles crushed beneath her boots.

"…lena…"

She turned on her heel, eyes wide, heart pumping fast. That was too close. Right behind her.

Nothing was there.

"Who's there?" she whispered. She was too scared to raise her voice, too scared to stay silent.

Her eyes struggled to take in the details of the dark expanse that stretched out before her. The moon's light wasn't enough, and in the darkness occluded by long shadows on the backsides of the pines, she could've sworn she saw something small move, duck behind the trunk just as her eyes fell onto it. Or…was that just a trick of her mind?

"Yelena."

The voice was clear, and it was whispered so close that she could feel the air of whatever uttered the word tickle her ear. She gasped and leapt backwards, her staff in her hand, summoned instinctually. She was trying not to panic, but every bone in her body was screaming at her to leave. Turn and run away, right now, and never come back. Whatever was here, it was evil. It wanted her.

Her eyes darted about the darkness, unable to make out any shapes other than that of the trees and shrubbery. Her knees were shaking.

"You came."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, the weight of the two simple words slamming down onto her and seizing her body. A great pressure, crushing down on her, sent her to her hands and knees, her staff bouncing on the soft dirt beside her as she struggled to regain her breath. She stared down at the dirt beneath her and tried to stand, but the weight was too much for her to overcome. Whatever had been watching her, stalking her…it had found her. She was powerless against it.

The world went dark, and the light from the moon and stars faded into utter black. Even her hands disappeared from her sight, and her body fell into the inky dark like sinking into mud. She struggled, trying to pull her hands and legs free, but the impossibly viscous fluid she was immersed in now had no intention of letting her go. She sank further, her chest going under, then her neck, and as her lips brushed with the cold, dark muck, she thought it was all over. She was going to die, unknown and unaware of what had even taken her. Such was the nature of the Deep Forest. For those who wandered too far, naught remained but a story and a crying mother somewhere.

Then, her eyes opened.

Death might have been preferable.

She tried to understand what her eyes took in before her. She blinked and wiped away the muck that had never touched her, and as her vision focused, she saw that she was no longer in a patch of dirt in the Deep Forest. She was on her knees in the middle of a large chamber, its walls made of sickly green, twisting vines that weaved around themselves to create an impenetrable cage around her. They seemed to take geometric shapes, but their forms were shifting, moving like serpents, like worms, crawling over one another and vanishing beneath knots of impossible shapes. The ground beneath her was solid, but shifting as well. It was dark here, and as her eyes adjusted and she felt the odd shapes beneath her, the creeping realization set in; bones. They clunked together as she struggled to stand, her feet shifting and sliding on the unlevel floor. Countless remains, some yellowed and aged for untold centuries, other pure white from their fresh cleaning, all differing in size, shape, design, made up the floor she was forced to stand upon. She did her best to stay composed, to not panic and scream. If she had finally found the Grove of the Old Wood, it was just as awful as Helvetia had led her to believe.

"Yelena, the Silver Witch."

It was the voice from before. It was different, though, as if it was stacked atop a symphony of others, all clamoring over each other for the dominant position. She looked to where the sound had come from, and immediately wished she hadn't.

The Three.

The far wall held three horrible visages of rotten, malignant growth before her to witness. On the left, the carcass of a long dead elk was surrounded, and penetrated, by a writhing mass of maggots, too many to ever possibly count, draped in rags of bloody flesh that still dripped with fresh blood. The elk's skull was bare, its eye sockets hollow save for a yellow glow from somewhere far behind where its eyes should have been. It looked at her with blank, dead emotion.

The right, a tree twisted and malformed into the shape of a man, his face trapped in a scream for untold millennia by the bark of the facsimile of nature. His arms made for sickly branches, his fingers broken and pulled apart as the tree seemingly grew from his very flesh. His feet stretched and reached into the bone floor beneath him, writhing as they desperately attempted to devour whatever nutrients remained from the starch white remains. The face of the man trapped within still bore signs of life, still struggling to escape from the grasp of the thing which held him hostage.

At the center, rather than some new horrific visage of death or decay, Yelena saw something that, in stark contrast with the other two awful beings, was somehow both less and more ominous. A man, his hair slicked back and face cleanly shaven, dressed in a perfectly pleated suit like that of the noblemen that would sometimes pass through her small town on their way to more important cities stood. At first nothing about him appeared amiss, until Yelena noticed that between the folds and layers of the fabric that made up his clothing, streaks of black liquid oozed, dripping down and splattering onto the skulls and bones beneath his feet. He ran a white-gloved hand over his face and flattened his hair, then opened his eyes to meet hers. They were pitch black, darker than the darkest night, darker still than even the muck that had swallowed her whole just a moment ago. They swallowed the light and made her head spin as she looked, and only after ripping her gaze free from him did she feel like she was on solid ground again. His figure was tall and slim, sharp features and perfect in almost every way. Despite this, Yelena was terrified to even dare looking at him ever again.

"We are so very glad to finally make your acquaintance," the voices said. The man performed a bow, only just seen by Yelena, who refused to look up at him. "We see that our little message reached you in time."

Yelena had once thought that facing down a shadow beast was the scariest thing she'd ever have to deal with. She had confidence that if she had the misfortune to come across one again she'd be able to handle it and dispatch it with relative ease, but that awful, terrible emotion that its mere presence evoked in her was the one aspect that she dreaded facing once again.

This thing, these Three, simply from speaking to her, made that terrifying experience akin to a child being afraid of a grasshopper in comparison to what she was facing now. At any moment, she knew that she could be crushed like an ant under these fey's immense power. They were every bit as oppressive as Helvetia had warned and more, and Yelena, despite her confidence beforehand, was utterly incapable of handling this the way she had faced a literal god of lightning. There was no respectful trading of introductions here, no hope of coming to terms with one another. To these beings, she was nothing. Speech seemed impossible, and even the act of moving was too demanding for her mind currently.

"Your friend came to us as well. Did you know that? We loved seeing him again after so many years."

A shot of ice ran through her veins. Hemlock had come here too, hadn't he? That was partly why she had decided to brave this, against Helvetia's warnings. She wasn't just here for her sake. She was here for his, and for the villagers, and for Sonya’s. She might have been afraid, on the verge of breaking down, but what purpose would that serve?

She blinked once, then twice. She took a breath, then let it out. Then, she stood straight. She could do this. She had to do this.

"Where is he?"

She faced the Three now, her back straight and her head held high. Their forms were horrific, the stuff of nightmares. She had to push through.

The man grinned, his lips tearing at the flesh of his cheeks, growing far too wide.

"He is close. He tried to bargain with us, but we found his offer…" the man craned his neck to the side, his bones cracking and shifting beneath his muscle, "unsatisfactory. Perhaps you will present a more suitable offer."

Yelena concentrated on her breathing, doing her best to ignore the fear that was slowly swelling in her gut, flooding her body with the need to flee.

"Before I bargain, I need to know that you will be able to truly cure this disease that ails the villagers under my care."

The elk carcass bounced and writhed, sloughing loose flesh from its hideous form before uttering deranged sounds from its skeletal jaw.

"Such trifle is nothing, mortal. Insult us so at your own peril."

A foul stench of rotten death poured out after it finished speaking, filling Yelena's nostrils with a putrid scent that nearly made her retch. She swallowed hard and pushed down the urge, then replied.

"Forgive me, I am unfamiliar with your powers," she said, bowing her head slightly. She knew she wasn't the one with the leverage here. Paying respect might get her somewhere.

The tree shook to life, its barren branches trembling and curling as it spoke through the twisted mouth of the captured man within.

"We are Three, arbiters of fate, weavers of life and death, beholders to that which ends and beholden to that which cannot."

Yelena hardly understood what it had said, but nodded regardless.

"You are bold to come here in ignorance, Yelena the Silver Witch," the man said. He held a skull in his hand now, a human one. It seemed undersized in his grip. Was he large, or was it small? She couldn't quite tell.

"It was you who instructed me to come without delay," she pressed back.

The man smiled again.

"Indeed. Like a good little dog, you came looking for scraps. And now here you are, begging at your master's table for anything to aid you. How desperate you must be, little mortal."

Yelena gritted her teeth. He was right. She was desperate, but she was also tenacious. She had to play this just right.

"I only want to have my familiar back, then know the cure to the disease which ails the villagers."

"We are aware, little witch. What would you offer for such a hefty request?"

Yelena hadn't given quite as much thought to that as she might have aught to. She hesitated, not sure exactly how to answer at first. What would beings such as this actually value? Surely coin was worthless, ingredients and food too. No, something physical and natural would be of no value to them. These fey would likely deal in the realm of magic, of the soul. What could she give them then? Something intangible, like memories or feelings? It was the storybook answer, but it was the only one she could readily come up with. If she had to give up something of great value to her emotionally, what would that be?

Sonya's face flashed through her mind. No. She couldn't.

"That will suffice, yes."

Yelena gasped, snapping back to reality.

"No, I-"

"Then the deal is off."

The man waved his hand over his shoulder as he turned his back on her, and a veil of darkness began to fall. How was she supposed to throw that away? Her love for Sonya was something too precious to her, too valuable to lose…but wouldn't she lose her anyway if the parasite on her soul wasn't removed?

So that was the deal. Give her up, or let her and everyone else die a slow, painful death. Helvetia was right. She didn't know if that was a price she could willingly pay, even though it was terribly selfish to even debate it.

The darkness continued to fall on her, obscuring her vision of the Three as her opportunity to save them shrank alongside her vision. She had seconds to make a decision. There was only one real choice. If she really cared for Sonya, for all of the people under her care, she'd give up her emotions and save them. She opened her mouth to speak, to surrender her love, and make the hardest choice she'd had to make before-

"My lives that remain."

The darkness snapped back, and the man paused.

Hemlock's voice cut through her despair, and as he stepped forward into her vision, a wave of relief washed over her. He was alright!

But what had he just said?

"Three lives? You must truly care for these pitiable things. To spare this witch her worthless feelings is akin to throwing your infinitely more valuable lives away, you know."

"Speak not of that which you ill understand, Vylurriath."

The man seemed to flinch, then slowly looked over his shoulder. His black eyes glared into Hemlock. She was glad they weren't directed her way.

"What are you doing?" she whispered to him. "You can't do that!"

"I can, and I will."

"Why? We're just human!"

Hemlock turned and met her eyes.

"That is precisely why, Yelena. Because you're just human."

He stepped forward again, and as Yelena reached out to try and stop him, the weight of the Three fell upon her once again, bringing her to her knees.

"Do not interfere further, mortal. This no longer concerns you," the man said. "We accept your offering, Hemlock," he said, Yelena's name for her familiar spit like poison from his lips.

"Good. Do it."

The man stepped towards Hemlock, raising his hand to hover just above the small form of the housecat. In this place, surrounded by these primal fey and their terrible powers on full display, Yelena couldn't help but feel like she was watching something that no mortal should witness. The man silently mouthed a series of words, his eyes closed, and streams of black magic began to swirl around Hemlock, lazily drifting upwards towards the man's outstretched hand. She could feel Hemlock's pain, their link allowing them to experience the other's feelings, if only a little. She clutched at her chest, trying to hold back tears as a searing, burning pain began to radiate out through her. It was an incredible pain, and only a tiny portion of what Hemlock must've been dealing with.

"Lynnoxla, we take that which was yours. In return, we grant you knowledge. Thus, our dealings are concluded. Begone from our court."

The man flipped his hand over and snapped, and before Yelena could even react, she was looking at the backside of her cabin, surrounded by pine trees and bathed in moonlight.

"It is done," Hemlock said, his voice hoarse. "I know how to remove the parasite."

"Why?"

It was the only question on Yelena's mind. It was the only thing she could ask.

"Why what?" Hemlock replied.

He knew damn well what she was asking, but fine. If he wanted her to be specific, she would be.

"Why me!? Why give up everything just for some stupid girl who can't do anything on her own!?"

Her face was hot, and her eyes began to water. She was angry, so incredibly angry, but she wasn't even sure what precisely she was angry with.

"How many lives did you just throw out!?"

Hemlock sat, refusing to look her way.

"Three. I have only my ninth remaining."

"Why!? Just tell me, please!"

Yelena was on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew that he cared, but she'd never known why. It had never made any sense to her, why a being like Hemlock would ever care, much less sacrifice so much for a perfectly average girl like her. She wouldn't let him run away this time. She couldn't.

After a long pause, the cat spoke.

"Because I wanted to know what it was to love. I have lived for thousands of years, Yelena, and up until these last few months, I had always avoided your kind. I assumed that you could only bring suffering, pain, and strife to all that you touched."

He turned, finally meeting her gaze, then continued.

"But when I saw you, a frail little thing poised to fade away at any moment, for the first time in my long life, I felt…" he paused, searching for the right word, "sadness. To watch something so young, with so much potential just waste away…I couldn't allow it. Perhaps it was a byproduct of my growing senility, perhaps not. Either way, when I looked upon your form in the forest, something inside of my soul sparked. I wanted to see this tiny thing grow, to become the thing it wanted to be, to support its dreams and hopes. No matter what. I cannot tell you why, Yelena. I know not why myself. The one thing I do know, is that I swore I would do anything in my power to see it through. I had always feared the end, the wasting of my soul that was bound to come, the endless abyss that even one such as myself would inevitably face. To know that I would simply fade to dust, forgotten and lost to the march of time, it terrified me."

Yelena's eyes were wide. She'd never heard him speak like this.

"But now, after spending even this fleeting amount of time with you, I believe I can say I have experienced the emotion of love. It is to care for, to do anything for, to give your all for another. In my own way, I believe I have done that. I realize that I have not been forthcoming, and I have withheld truths from you. Please, believe me when I tell you that I only did so out of kindness. I am ill-equipped for expressing my emotions, stunted as they are, but I am able to read those of others. I knew that explaining everything to you would be more upsetting than comforting. I only wanted to make your dream come true, Yelena."

She didn't know what to say. She wiped her cheeks dry with her sleeve, only for more fresh tears to roll down her puffy eyelids. What could she possibly say to that?

Instead, she held out her arms.

"I'm sorry, Hemlock. I'm so, so sorry."

Her speech was slurred, her throat thick and her vision blurry, but nevertheless, Hemlock accepted her. He stepped up onto her lap, nuzzling his tiny head into her chest as she wrapped her arms around his body.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Yelena."

For a long while, witch and familiar sat still in that deep darkness, holding each other close with a new understanding. 

Ch. 18

The following weeks went by in a blur. While Hemlock had managed to glean the knowledge of how to cure the soul of the magical parasite, the means in which to actually do so was still up to them. With Helvetia's assistance, the two witches and the cat were able to spread out and gather the ingredients required to conjure a sort of magical vaccine. Sonya had volunteered to be the first test subject, and much to everyone's delight, the remedy was effective. Thanks to Hemlock's ability to easily see the soul of mortal beings, they had given false life to a magical construct and guided it to her soul's essence, and after a quick zap of pure magical energy, the blight that had formed on the crust of her being was instantly erased. The positive effects were nearly instant, as Sonya reported an immediate increase in her energy, so much so that she nearly broke Yelena's spine with a bear hug. Despite the difficult road they had taken to get there, they had their cure. Now, they had to administer it to any of the villagers who had been afflicted with it, which by this point was nearly all of them. Close to a hundred people had to be rounded up and inoculated, which took the better part of two weeks. Though their magical reserves were vast, the two witches and the cat each would run out of energy by the end of the day, leaving them exhausted and barely even able to eat every evening. Even so, not a single villager died from the magical parasite, and as the final patient was cleared of the cancerous growth, Yelena could finally say that they had succeeded. All of their hard work had paid off.

Now that the souls of the villagers were out of immediate harm's way, Yelena could finally take a few moments to rest. Helvetia, having repaid her debt to Yelena for helping her deal with Ysha, left shortly after the final patient was cured. She promised she would be in touch, but felt guilty for imposing on Yelena for so long. She hadn't been too detailed on what she would do now, being the last survivor of her coven, but she seemed to have something in mind. Yelena was sure that she'd hear all about it the next time she got bored, or lonely. Yelena was sad to see her go, but also was somewhat glad to have the house to herself again. If she could, she'd like for things to calm down a bit. These few months had been a fever dream of highs and lows, and for right now, a long bout of boredom sounded lovely.

Though Hemlock was still his regular enigmatic self, Yelena had noticed that he was a bit more vocal than before about his true feelings on things. So much so that he even began to give snark back as he got it from her, which was actually welcome to Yelena. They'd had a rough go at it, but she felt like a barrier that Hemlock had always kept erected was finally gone, leaving them both free to be honest. As spring turned to summer, and summer to autumn, the days growing warm as the sun rose and frigid as night fell once more, Yelena at last had what she had wanted all this time; a life she was happy to live, with people she was happy to live it with. Every day was slow, ambling, and lovely. She could forage as she pleased, experiment with magic, albeit at a much safer pace, and come and go from the village as she wished, making friends and forming bonds with the people who relied on her. It was everything she had wanted…except…something was missing.

Sonya had been part of her life for her entire tenure in Harske from the very start. She'd been there for her in her most trying times, seen her at her best and her worst. Throughout it all, she'd never once doubted Yelena, never told her she was doing too much, going too far. In hindsight, maybe she would've been in the right to do so, but not once had she been one of the voices from her past that had put her down. Perhaps that's where it all had stemmed from. Hemlock may have enabled her to pursue her dreams, but it was Sonya who had given her that push to really take the steps forward. She admired everything about her, from her self-reliant spirit to her soft spoken mannerisms. She was everything that Yelena had wanted to be when she was a girl, strong and smart, kind and caring. Every time she looked at her, a soft warmth would flood her chest. To Yelena, Sonya was perfect, despite her many flaws. And yet…she was still out of reach.

After they had melded their souls, and both of their innermost thoughts and memories were laid bare to each other, things between them had changed. Not all at once, but slowly, almost imperceptibly, over the span of months. Her trips to Yelena's cabin slowed in frequency, and when Yelena would come to Harske for the day, it had become harder and harder to get her to spend the whole day together. Of course, there was an obvious answer to all of this. Yelena wasn't stupid. What she was instead was in denial, consciously so. Admitting the one thing she was more terrified of than anything else, more so than another shadow beast or the court of the Three, was losing Sonya. Even so, it was clear to her that Sonya was putting distance between them. It hurt, oh, how it hurt, but there was nothing Yelena could do about it. Her feelings had been expressed. She'd said, through sharing her entirety with her, everything she could say. If that wasn't enough, then…that was that. At least she could still be around her, and maybe even help her find someone to share her joy with. As for Yelena, she did her best to bottle up her feelings and tuck them away. If it wasn't Sonya, then she really didn't have any desire to pursue such a thing. Perhaps it was better this way. It was likely that she would live for much longer than any normal human, due to her connection to magic. Given how often and how deeply she had immersed herself into the deep ocean of magical energy, she had a few centuries of natural life ahead of her already. Staying young as Sonya grew old, along with any others that she might one day grow a strong bond with, sounded rather unappealing. Not growing too attached might help her in the long run.

***

It was a warm spring day when the news arrived. All the way from Eastlark, the great Lord Inod the Great had made the announcement many had feared for a long while; war. Far to the south was the kingdom of Laria, an old rival and a constant source of strife for the wealthy of Eastlark. All of this was utterly removed from the lives of the people of Harske, and though wars and rumors of wars were common, they were never anything more than conversation topics. No one in Harske ever believed that war would again break out, or failing that, that Lord Inod would take the drastic measure that had made its way to their humble village that day. The lands of Eastlark were vast, and while technically not part of Lord Inod's domain, it still paid taxes and was counted among his ownings, placing it, again only by technicality, under his 'protection'. Of course, not a soul in Harske had ever seen a single soldier wrapped in Eastlark colors coming to their aid, so when a party of ten men on horseback with spears and banners came storming into town with an official proclamation, it took the whole village by surprise. Yelena had barely made it in time to catch the gist of the announcement, sticking to the shadows so as to not arouse suspicion. She had a feeling that the soldiers wouldn't have taken well to her magical abilities, being from a place that strictly forbade it.

"Any and all able bodied souls are to report to the training grounds to the southeast of Eastlark by season's end!" the lead soldier called, reading from a sheet of yellowed paper. "Men and women both, between fifteen and thirty years of age! Should you fail to report, punishment will be doled out to both the delinquent and their kin. A list of exceptions will be left with the elders."

The soldier, having finished his declaration, tossed a roll of paper on the dirt, then signaled to his men to turn and leave. Without another word, the patrol of armed soldiers beat the soft dirt with their horse's hooves into a muddy paste, trampling any chance of discussion. After they had left, a long silence, only dotted with quiet whispers, lingered among the villagers. None were too sure what to make of the situation, but it was clear as day to Yelena from the frightened looks and huddled families that none were eager to go and fight for a man who had never given them any reason to. She didn't see the point either. What good was a couple dozen woodworkers and hunters from the Deep Forest? What had driven Lord Inod to such desperate measures as to require any and every able-bodied person in his realm?

Yelena, after making sure the coast was clear, made her way into the village. Some of the people gave her polite nods, but they had other things on their mind besides courtesy. She understood, to some degree. If her presence was known to the soldiers, she too would have been in the selection pool. She went to where the captain had dropped the roll of paper, curious what they would count as 'exceptions'. As she made her way through the crowd, she finally spotted the paper in the hands of one of the village elders, a kind old man named Finley. He had a bit of a hunched back and was almost entirely bald, but otherwise was in good health given his older age. He was far beyond the soldier's age range, being nearly sixty years of age. Yelena approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What does it say?"

"Ah, Yelena," he said, giving her a brief smile before returning to the paper. "I believe it makes exemptions for mothers and those too weak to travel, but nothing else."

A brutally short list. She leaned over his shoulder and skimmed the letter. Though worded far too well for anyone in Harske to easily read, her studies allowed her to parse the nonsense and come to the same conclusion. She briefly glanced around the center of town, taking in the many faces of the villagers she'd come to know and love. So many fit the list set out by the soldier perfectly. So many would have to go off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. It was anything but fair. She could see so many of the young couples, so full of youth and spirit, their eyes downcast as they struggled to come to terms with it all.

What could she possibly do about this?

As the villagers slowly returned to their daily tasks, making ready to go about felling trees and seeking out game, a wave of fear and dread washed over Yelena. Not the kind that she had experienced before with the horrific monsters she'd faced down, no…this was the kind of existential knowledge that things were going to get worse, no matter what. There was no simple solution to this problem, and certainly not one Yelena could herself find and enact. Finley too silently walked away, unable to voice what everyone was feeling. He didn't need to.

Yelena stood in the square for a good while, her mind rushing to try and come up with some out, some way to avoid sending these lovely people off to war for a lord they've never met. She considered all kinds of courses, from simple defiance to magical obfuscation. There were countless possibilities for keeping the people of Harske from having to leave, but none were good or permanent. Eventually, whatever the option she considered, they would face the consequences of being 'negligent' in their 'duty'. The threat of punishment was almost more frightening than the actual instigating demand. She wasn't sure what, if anything, could be done. She wasn't even sure if her staying was even the right call. She clearly fit with the decree's instruction, but it went without saying that her services were much better off being put to use here. She was hardly a warrior, and if her magical prowess ever came to light. there was a good chance she'd be arrested, or worse, executed on the spot. Her being associated with the people of Harske would only put them at further risk of never coming back home.

Sonya was nowhere to be found. Yelena wasn't sure if she'd missed the entire thing or if she had simply shrugged it off and returned to her daily duties without much thought. She didn't know how she would react. She wanted to find her and talk to her about it, but at the same time, she was trying to respect the distance Sonya had placed between them. Sonya was, unfortunately, the perfect candidate to join up with the lord's army. She was strong, smart, and more than capable of using both an axe or a bow. She'd make for a brilliant soldier to fight on the front lines.

The thought terrified Yelena.

She stuck around town for the rest of the day, using the excuse of being low on ingredients and food to get a feel for how everyone was feeling. She tried to broach the subject to some of the folks she was more familiar with, but few wanted to speak their true thoughts on it. To speak ill of the lord was a crime, after all. Even though they knew Yelena would never report such a thing, old habits die hard.

As evening fell, she made her way to the tavern. Its roof had held up well since it was rebuilt last year, but it was clear where the old thatching ended and the patch began. Though it was more than sound, it would likely always bear the scar of the collapse, a wound that would heal but never truly fade away. Usually by this time of day, most of the village would be wrapping up their tasks and going about preparing their suppers. Today though, few folks were smiling and calling out to one another, instead quietly passing by each other with nothing other than short nods and wistful smiles.

Yelena entered the tavern and was immediately hit by the scent of roasted meat, its aroma making her stomach rumble with hunger. She hadn't planned on indulging in a meal tonight, but why not? She was already here, and was clearly hungry. The tavern had a few of Harske's residents inside, most seated at the bar, mugs in hand and quietly conversing. Yelena opted to sit at one of the long tables, stepping over the log bench and plopping down after pulling her dress under. She took a quick glance around the room, taking in the atmosphere. No different from everywhere else. Somber, quiet, dreadful.

One of the working girls, a lively girl about her age named Bridget, had already taken her order and relayed it to Aiden, the owner of the tavern. She was always a bright pillar of sunshine, exuding charm and joy with the warmth of a stacked bonfire for any around her. She was still doing her best to keep up appearances, but Yelena could tell. After a few minutes, Bridget returned with a plate covered in steaming vegetables, a slice of fresh bread, and a heap of shaved venison. The glistening juices from the venison and soft folds of the bread made her mouth water. The server also set down a large mug of ale, then perched on the table beside Yelena for a moment.

"So what do you make of it?"

Yelena pulled her eyes away from her meal begrudgingly, surprised that Bridget of all people was willing to bring it up.

"I don't quite know, to be honest. It's wrong, that much I believe. Besides that, I'm not too sure what can be done."

"I think I'll have to go too," she said, her eyes on the floorboards beneath them. "I've never even left the town."

Yelena studied the girl's face. She was smiling, but it was too easy to see it as a poor mask. She was just as scared as everyone else.

"Maybe you'll be able to serve as a cook? Armies need to be fed, after all," she said, trying to comfort her.

"I'm actually a terrible cook, if you can believe it. Aiden never lets me help with that stuff," she said, turning to Yelena finally. "No, I'll probably have a bow put in my hands and…"

She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to. She met Yelena's gaze, then smiled one last time.

"Sorry, I should let you enjoy your meal. Talk to you later, Yel."

Before she could move to stop her, Bridget took off back towards the kitchen. Still, she wasn't quick enough to stop Yelena from spotting the glossy reflection in her eyes. She looked back to her meal, finding her appetite had all but left her. The steaming hot meal before her suddenly seemed little more than a distraction, a convenient escape from the lingering feeling of doom that had fallen over Harske. In silence, she took a fork and speared a shiny piece of a carrot, rotating it in her hand a few times. It was expertly sliced, as was everything else on the plate, a testament to Aiden's skill as a chef. He had kept the village well fed and happy with hot food and cold drinks for years now. He, too, was of age to be conscripted. She ate in silence.

After a while, with no signs of any others coming into the tavern, Yelena gave up hope of seeing Sonya that day. Whatever she was doing, it must've been important. It was getting late, and she had plans to brew a fresh batch of tonics tomorrow morning, so she made her way to the village edge to take to the air. She summoned her staff with a snap, and as she was just about to summon the wind to carry her home when she thought she heard a voice call out. She turned her head, scanning the nearby cabins and the tree line for any signs of life, but…nothing. Must've been her imagination. She carried on with her spell, and quickly made her way home without incident. Hemlock was waiting there for her at the door, sitting patiently.

"Long day?"

"Yeah," she replied, taking off her large brimmed hat and hanging it on the rack beside the entryway.

Her cabin had grown in size, now boasting a second floor and some actual rooms now, rather than the open layout it had initially been. Through some magic and some brawn, she had expanded her home to be just that; a proper home, rather than a hunting cabin with a bed. She was quite happy with how it had turned out, but having a larger house also meant that she felt the loneliness of it even more.

"I heard about what happened. You aren't planning on interfering, are you?" Hemlock asked.

"No, don't worry. I'm not so foolish as to incur the wrath of Inod. I could wipe the floor with him and his army, but that wouldn't do the villagers any good."

"Well, at least you understand that."

Yelena all-but collapsed into a large, soft chair that sat directly before the fireplace. She let out a long sigh, then slid even further until she was practically parallel to the floor.

"I don't know what to do, Hemlock."

"What is there to do? You know it is unwise to interfere in such matters. I understand that you have only the villager's best interest at heart, but in this case, your actions would only make things worse for them."

"Ugh, I know," she replied, rubbing her face with her hands.

"She will be fine. She is more than capable of protecting herself."

"That's what every warrior thinks, just before…"

She couldn't finish the thought, just the same as Bridget before. To speak such a cruel thing would give it power to manifest, and she wouldn't be the one to do so.

Hemlock jumped up into her lap, stepping up onto her chest before staring her down with a serious glare.

"Promise me you'll do the right thing?"

She met his gaze.

"I promise to do the right thing."

He nodded.

"Good. Now you should get ready for bed. We have a long day ahead tomorrow."

The amethyst cat leapt down and made for his favorite spot, a pile of assorted pillows and blankets in the corner across from the entryway. He rarely slept in Yelena's room now, but she was fine with that. He made for a good watchdog, and he had prevented a number of beasties and magic entities from disturbing her in her sleep. With how powerful she'd grown, she had become a prime target for various magically-attuned creatures.

Yelena sighed again, but did as instructed. Sleep sounded nice. Maybe it would help her take her mind off things for a bit.

***

The next few weeks were uneventful, yet incredibly stressful. Many of the people of Harske had begun making preparations for the trek to Eastlark, packing what they might need for the long voyage and their indeterminate stay with Lord Inod's forces. Some were only planning to bring the barest of necessities, others prepared massive packs filled with mementos, trinkets, or family heirloom weapons. There had been a time, long ago, when the people of Harske had needed to fend for themselves against the wild forest that surrounded them with nothing more than simple tools and weapons. It was a sense of pride that had led the people to hold onto these ancient weapons, but some felt as though taking the old arms would allow the spirits of their ancestors to walk with them and protect them in battle, should they face it. A grim thing to posit, but if it brought them comfort, who was Yelena to tell them such a thing was nonsense.

Yelena herself had been busy brewing vast quantities of healing tonics, as well as other more niche items. For the women, she had handed out soaps enchanted to diminish in size at half the rate and nigh-unbreakable hair ties and brushes. The women of Harske had a long tradition of growing their hair out as long as possible, so Yelena felt it appropriate to provide them tools to keep it from becoming too damaged so far from home. The men all received her soaps as well, but instead of hair accessories, Yelena made them de-stressing chews to nibble on when things became tense. She had performed the tests herself to determine their efficacy, and after multiple evenings spent staring at the walls of her home in a near trance-like state, she had finely tuned the product to only moderately ease the mind, rather than numbing it to nearly nothing. It was the least she could do, considering that she would be staying in her cozy home far from battle. The day of the group's departure was fast approaching, and Yelena was making every possible preparation for them as simple as she could.

She had spoken to Sonya a few times since the announcement had been made, but only in passing. She too had been making preparations, instructing some of the younger children on how to hunt and forage. Most of her group of rowdy hunters were all going too, leaving the main source of Harske's winter food acquisition nearly bereft of hands. It would fall to them and what little trade the town could do to survive the long winter, should the war last that long. Yelena had promised to help as much as she could, which had seemed to set her heart at ease some. She was hesitant to hunt using magic, but if it was her own arbitrary rules or letting people starve, she would do what was right for the people. The weather was at least agreeable, being late spring now. Occasional showers had washed over Harske, but overall, the roads to Eastlark should be easy enough to traverse.

And so, the day finally came. The group of villagers, numbering sixty-three in total, had gathered in the center of town to say their final farewells to their friends and family. Yelena was present as well, as was Hemlock, and though she knew it was incredibly hard for these people who had only known peace for their entire lives, she did her best to offer them words of encouragement. She was under no illusion that she was a warrior, but she had faced her own fair share of adversity. She knew what it was like to be faced with something seemingly too large to overcome, too powerful to even dream to stop. It was times like then that, she told the soon-to-be soldiers, they should look to each other, and never abandon who they were. She wasn't sure how useful her words would be, but she hoped they would at least help a bit.

She hadn't had the chance to speak to Sonya yet, as she was busy helping some of the younger folks finish their prep and say their goodbyes to their parents and siblings. It was fine though. She was going to be fine. They all were. There was no way that they would be placed on the front lines, as inexperienced and ill-suited for combat that they were. Doing so would be pointless, and she had faith that whoever was leading the army would be well aware of that. Yelena carried on giving her best to those around her and comforting the families of those who would have to see their loved ones go.

The time to depart grew near, and as one of the eldest men took point and began to call back for the group to depart, Yelena was surprised by a strong hand on her shoulder from behind. She recognized it instantly, turning to find Sonya just behind her.

"You scared me," she said, happy to speak with her before they left.

Sonya looked down at her, her piercing amber eyes locked onto her own. She was smiling, but it was clear that she was anything but happy.

"I'm sorry, Yel."

Yelena cocked her head to the side.

"For what?"

"For being such a coward. For not being honest when I had the chance. I at least wanted to say that, in case I don't make it back."

Yelena's eyes went wide, and her heart skipped a beat.

"What are you- don't say something like that," she struggled to say, looking down at the dirt to avoid her gaze. This wasn't fair.

"Take care, my little silver witch."

Sonya placed a hand on her cheek, her palm calloused and rough. She couldn't bear to look up at her. If she did, she'd never let her leave.

Then, just as quickly as she'd come, Sonya pulled her hand away, returning to the group as they left.

Yelena's whole body was trembling, and tears began to drip onto the soft dirt. She wanted to turn and chase after her, chase after them all, beg them to stay and let her protect them. She wanted to hold Sonya again, to never let her go ever again. She wanted to be strong and brave, to be able to end this stupid war with her own bare hands. Instead, all she could do was stand here, alone, and silently cry.

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