“Father, Father! Come look take a look at this!”

Kosian jolted awake, feeling as if lightning had struck him. he felt soft velvet cushion his head, as he lay on a sofa. The sofa that always stood in the waiting room at home. His eyes wide, Kosian immediately stood up and started looking around. Everything was as it always was – the painting of grandfather on the wall, the large windows facing the courtyard, the lacquered black wood stairs, which led up to the main ballroom. As he looked around, Kosian spotted a young girl, who stood next to the large entrance to the room. She wore a frilly yellow dress, her dark hair neatly curled and tied into a long braid. In her hands, she held an old, soot-covered doll, which was starting to stain her white frilled cuffs. As she looked at him with her emerald green eyes, Kosian heard a voice that made him croak.

“My Lady Pietra, you mustn’t…”

Jon appeared from the corner, her stature even more senile than he remembered. Using a cane to move quicker, she seemingly hadn’t lost any of her strength, still wearing the same uniform as she did when he was a child. She turned to him, the wrinkles on her face becoming even more pronounced. She looked… like she hadn’t aged a day since he last saw her.

“What is the matter, Master Kosian? Are you ill?”

Kosian only now realized that he was crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks, seeping into his beard. Smiling, he wiped the tears away and approached the two of them.

“Everything’s fine, Jon. Just a bad dream…” Kosian suddenly remembered everything that had happened in that terrible dream. He remembered what he had done. What he had sacrificed. Walking up to the, he kneeled and hugged both the little girl and Jon.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he kept repeating in between sobs. He couldn’t believe his actions in that dream. Defy the Faith? Save his brother? Sacrifice his entire life, his entire family for a single person who he didn’t even know? He felt tiny hands try to wrap around his body as best as they could.

“It’s okay, daddy,” Pietra said, kissing him on the cheek. Seeing this, Jon giggled and also hugged Kosian.

“Rest easy now, master Kosian. Everything’s fine. We’re all here.”

Kosian tried to keep in his tears, to hold on. But he couldn’t. The weight which had been weighing him since the start of that horrible nightmare finally came crashing down. Holding the two of them tight, he started to wail.

Pietre woke up to a deamon in front of his face. For a moment, he looked on at its wide, crystalline eyes, tiny round body and wide wings, looking like some round, wide-eyed bat. Recovering from the shock, he screamed, trying to shoo it away. As he flailed his arms around, screaming at the top of his lungs trying to shoo the little deamon away, he saw more gathered around the first one. They stared at him, their gazes chilling and outlandish. Suddenly, Pietre felt as if he was slammed onto his bedroll, his arms held in an iron grip.

“What the fuck are you thinking, you idiot?!” asked Cleo in a biting tone. “Are you trying to get us all killed?!” Looking around, Pietre saw the deamons slowly approach him, their little feet inching closer and closer. Feeling as his teeth started to rattle, he started to pant heavily, keeping an eye on the deamons. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I won’t make a peep! Please, just let me go!”

Angrily, Cleo shoved him to the cave floor, before disappearing from his vision. Immediately, Pietre grabbed a branch from the crackling campfire and held it up in front of him. That seemed to at least stop the deamons in their tracks. Even though there were fire deamons on the flame themselves, Pietre preferred their company more than those black, bat ones. Feeling the shock slowly wearing off, Pietre looked around. He was in some sort of cave. The sun’s rays peaked out at its entrance, throwing the rest of the cave into shadow. Looking around, he could see stalactites and rocky walls wet with condensation. And his brother, lying on a bed of leaves and covered in bandages. Pietre froze for a moment, looking at him. This was the man that ‘saved’ him. Because of him, of his actions, this company of faithful, innocent men were now being hunted down like wild animals. Only because he wanted to save him. Pietre felt angry. He rarely felt that feeling, as he was taught from an early age to never get angry. He was a slave of God. It was his job to serve and obey. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet, he felt anger towards this man. A man who loudly proclaimed heresy and fought against the righteous Faith, only because he was ‘saving’ him. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel thankful to him. Images of Sister Almona flashed in his mind and Pietre immediately felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn’t want to go back. But if wanted to save these men, he had to.

Calming himself, Pietre started to think. If he were to escape, he imagined it would’ve been rather easy to find an inquisitor or Order patrol and give himself up. The problem was that he wanted the Faithmen to leave these poor people at peace. He would’ve accepted if they wanted to take his brother. He was a heretic, after all. But… Turning to his brother though, Pietre sighed. He remembered his smiling face when they both sat, looking at the constellations. Even if he could drag him with him, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t His brother didn’t deserve to be hanged. Gripping the Holy Diamond which hung from his left hand, he started praying. Sister Almona always said: ‘If you don’t know what to do, pray, and the Lord will give you an answer.’ As he gave thanks to the Lord for his creations, Manguid entered Pietre’s vision. The large, hulking wolfman had flower deamons dancing on his shoulders, their long legs, bean-like bodies and flower necks swaying in the motion. They were quickly joined by the black deamons of the cave. Crouching down next to him, Manguid grabbed Pietre’s head, checking the bandages there. Nodding to himself, he took them off and moved to Kosian. Pietre sat for a moment before also scooting closer.

Kosian looked much more terrible up close. Clothed in only his undergarments and tunic, his entire left arm was encased in bandages. Through the cracks in the fabric, Pietre could see that the arm was swollen beyond belief, covered in bruises and what looked like torn up muscles and skin. Holding his breath, Pietre watched as Manguid carefully changed the bandages, putting a cold compress on Kosians forehead and covering him in a blanket.

“H-How long h-has he been like this?” Pietre asked, looking at his brother.

“Around a day and a half,” Manguid answered as he walked up to the fire. “Only Gengiskhi himself knows how a young human like him can survive this much blood loss.”

Looking at the large qasqariam’s back, Pietre saw his tail tense up and stand. “You don’t think he’ll make it?” Manguid stayed silent, before letting out a long sigh. “…By now, only the spirits know his fate. Come here, you need to eat, regain your strength.”

Sitting down by the fire, Pietre grabbed the bowl of porridge offered by Manguid. Again, it was some of the most delicious food he had ever tasted. This simple porridge, probably made out of old grain, still tasted better than anything he was ever offered back at the nunnery. Pietre couldn’t help but think about it. All those nights of… studying with Sister Almona. Just the mere thought of it made him want to throw up.

Without even realizing it, Pietre felt tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. For a moment, he didn’t even care for the deamons who were playing inside the porridge. ‘I don’t want to go back,’ he thought, taking another spoonful. As he did, he felt something grab onto his cheek. Looking, he saw a tiny flower deamon, its man-like face looking sadly at him as it tried with all its might to wipe away one of his tears. Looking at it, Pietre quickly brushed it off his cheek, making it tumble to the ground and shooed away the ones in his porridge. How could he even think about not going back? The fact he could see these things was proof enough that he was cursed.

“Don’t cry, little one. If your brother was able to survive an entire day with those wounds, he’ll likely survive another,” Manguid said, placing his heavy hand on Pietre’s shoulder. Nodding, the boy continued to eat, gobbling up the tasty porridge. Smiling, Manguid joined him, gobbling up almost everything in his bowl in a single bite. For a rather well-mannered qasqariam, he ate rather barbarically. Pietre thought he was getting used to the large wolfman. He hoped, at least.

As Pietre helped Manguid clean up the old bandages, he always kept one eye on the deamons which kept gathering at the edges of the firelight. Looking at them, their beady eyes shined maliciously. Pietre had never seen such deamons before. He knew of a few types, making notes on them himself. There were the city deamons – round little things with large noses, hay-like hair and button eyes, who would always sweep the slave room in the nunnery at night. Once, Pietre even got a kiss from one, which made him wet himself in bed. After them came the fire deamons – little sprites which always appeared dancing along with the flames of any fire source. He remembered seeing them cling to hay when a torch fell onto one of his fellow slave’s bedding. Then there were the flower deamons – bean-shaped beings with flower petal necks and long legs. And now, there were these ‘cave’ deamons. Looking at them again, Pietre felt shivers running down his back. He hated every single one of them.

After lunch, he spent the rest of the day helping Manguid and Cleo – washing the dirtied bandages, gathering firewood, washing the dogs. As he was helping Cleo gather some flowers for Manguids salve, Pietre heard the sound of a dog panting somewhere farther away. He imagined seeing inquisitors, with their white cloaks, wide-brimmed hats and ceramic masks, riding around the small glades of these hills, looking for him. As he was about to take a step in that direction, Pietre felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” said Cleo, pulling him back.

“But…”

A slap suddenly echoed through the trees, as Cleo’s wide palm slapped Pietre across the face. Falling, the boy looked at her wide-eyed as he massaged the red cheek.

“Your brother sacrificed everything to save you. Even now, he’s fighting against the cold grip of death just so he can be with you. And all you’re thinking about is how to spit on that kindness,” she said, sneering. Pietre thought of fighting back, of telling her that he didn’t even need any saving, that he was content with living the way he did. But the words never came out. Was he content? Happy? Well, he certainly wasn’t happy, but…

As the boy sat sprawled on the ground, Cleo sniffed as she turned. Looking at her, Pietre turned to the sound, then to her again. Looking down, he grunted as he stood. He knew she was right. He knew that. Still, as the two of them walked towards the cave, he couldn’t help but think about how all of this could be solved. He knew if he just played it right, he would be able to spare all of them. Making sure Cleo wasn’t watching, he quickly ripped off one of the buttons on his coat and threw it on the ground. All without the slightest hint of noise. But as he walked, Pietre suddenly felt a shiver which quickly ran down his back. Thinking nothing more of it, he moved on, even as the two red eyes, hidden behind the branches of a sprawling low pine watched him.

Helping Jon and Pietra clean the doll, Kosian couldn’t help but smile. ‘It was just a bad dream,’ he kept thinking ‘Just a bad dream.’ Seeing his little girl smile with joy as she held the old doll tightly to her chest, Kosian felt that great burden fall off his shoulders faster and faster. As they sat down on the sofa in the waiting room, the main doors flew open, letting in a flurry of people. Among the sounds of huffing and running, Kosian heard a familiar voice:

“Bring those carpets to the second floor! I want the Reinian stitch in my rooms! Bring the food to the cooks and tell them to start preparing the feast! I want the map to be brought into my husband’s study immediately! Chop chop, ladies! We haven’t a moment to spare!”

“Yes, mistress!” answered the maids in unison as they rushed through the house. Excited, Pietra jumped up from the couch and ran to the door. Kosian joined her, placing his hands in his pockets. Strange… he felt a pipe in one of the pockets, like the one his father used to smoke.

Standing in front of the main doors, holding up Pietra was Jula, her emerald eyes sparkling as strongly as her daughters. Long, slightly ginger blonde hair fell to the puffed shoulders of her white dress, red and gold embroideries depicting herons and sparrows on her high collar, while her puffed, slashed shoulders shone with red silk. Pinching Pietra’s cheek, she approached him, looking him up and down. A mischievous smile bloomed on her face.

“Well, I see someone…”

Before the words escaped her mouth, Kosian embraced her, holding the two of them tightly.

“Thank the Lord…” he whispered into his wife’s ear.

Blushing, Jula wanted to hug him back, but quickly pushed him away, fixing her hair out of habit.

“That is no way for a reputable merchant to act in public, my husband!” she said, her cheeks bright red. Letting Pietra down, she approached him, embedding a finger into his chest. “You better explain yourself right now!”

Looking at her, Kosian couldn’t help but smile broadly. Chuckling, he gently cupped her hand. “It’s nothing… I’m just… relieved.”

“Daddy had a terrible nightmare!” Pietra suddenly said, grabbing onto her mother’s skirt. “He even hugged me and Aunt Jon!”

Looking down at her, Jula turned to Kosian with worry on her face. Checking his forehead, she mumbled loud enough for him to hear: “You don’t have a temperature…” Cupping the hand on his forehead as well, Kosian looked into Jula’s deep emerald eyes. It almost felt as if he would lose himself in that beautiful colour.

“I’m fine now. As Pietra said, it was just a dream.”

“Ah! Well… If that’s the case…”

Staying with him like that for a moment, Jula suddenly let go and walked off.

“Dinner should be ready within the hour. In the meantime, you still have work to do, don’t you, dear?” she said, quickly looking back at Kosian. The red in her cheeks still hadn’t faded.

“Of course,” Kosian said, nodding. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As he walked off, hearing Jula whispering with Pietra and Jon, he felt like the memories of that dream finally drifted away. He couldn’t even remember what it was about now. Barking a laugh, he quickly walked towards his study.