Darkness had power. No one could deny that, but darkness could only hide the light for so long. Eventually the storm clouds the master vampire had summoned broke, and the sun forced the vampire hordes back into hiding. Under the dirt where the dead belonged.

When it was finally safe to come out of her tent, Little Ant felt like she had aged a decade in just a few hours. Grandmother hadn’t fared much better and the lines and wrinkles on her face had deepened.

Once they were sure the danger was over, they dismantled the tent they had hid in and she had to force her hands to work. Her fingers felt like wood.

“Let’s go.” Old Badger said.

They could spot the places the ghouls had crawled into the ground and Little Ant avoided walking over them. The holes in the ground made her think of an old nursery rhyme she had heard as a child.

‘Dig a hole in the shadow of a hanged man and you will find the spawn of the dark queen.’

While making their way through the village, Little Ant glanced at the house on top of the hill. It felt like it was looking back at her. Mocking her.

“… what did you see there?” Little Ant asked.

The question made Old Badger shiver.

“An altar. A black cauldron filled with bones and blood. The Screaming Beast had sacrificed his entire village to it.” Old Badger said and let out a tired sigh: “That’s the nature of a vampire. Preying on others for power. Eating them up and casting them aside with no care.”

When Old Badger looked at the hill house, her eyes were full of contempt.

“When we return here, we will burn it all to the ground. The fire will cleanse all.”

It became a bit easier to breathe when they got out of the village. A foul stench hung over the place you didn’t notice until you got some fresh air and Little Ant could feel a migraine building up behind her eyes.

Then she heard the cawing of crows.

The dark murder was sitting on a branch just out of the reach of a spear and were looking at them.

“You made it. Congratulations.” The crows said as a choir, sounding less than pleased.

“No thanks to you.” Little Ant said.

“You wanted to find this place, so we took you here. Seems fair to us.” The crows said.

Old Badger brushed her brow and even she looked annoyed at the birds.

“Anything else you want to share with us?”

“That depends? Do you have another dead skin-changer to offer us?”

“Can’t say we do.” Grandmother said.

“Then the next part will be a surprise to you.” The crows said and cackled in unison: “We just hope it leaves some of you for us.”

The crows took flight while laughing but Little Ant knew they wouldn’t be far. Crows never strayed far from a potential meal.

“It?” Little Ant said.

“Whatever it is, we need to be careful.” Old Badger said.

The sun was fast descending behind the horizon, and they made haste. The ghouls would rarely go far from their nest, but Little Ant had no doubt that they would make an exception for them. They rushed past the Wyrd Stones and when they made it back into The Wyrding, she could breathe a bit easier. This was her home. Familiar ground. Where she belonged.

“There’s a stream nearby. We should be safe when we cross it. Ghouls do not like running water.” Old Badger said.

The sun had finally gone down, and night had befallen on the Wyrding. With the darkness came the ghouls. They were far but getting close fast. Desperate to snatch them before they crossed the stream. Hope made her let out a burst of laughter when she saw the deep river. Their salvation. The river would… it would…

Something was moving in the river.

There was a splash of water and a horse smelling of seaweed rose from the stream. Its fur looked black in the moonlight, but Little Ant knew from the stories that it was dark green. Its eyes glowed yellow like windows to Hell and inside its mouth… fangs meant for anyone dumb enough to climb on its back.

“… a kelpie?” Little Ant gasped.

Kelpie… The water horse. Few beasts of the Wyrding were more dangerous. Hungry predators who would lure in people to ride them only to realize too late they could not control their steed and it would drag them into a watery doom and feast on their flesh.

Then she heard it. The hiss of ghouls. Three of them had followed. Three of the hungriest. They watched the kelpie nervously that was now scraping the ground with its hoof as a threat. In return the ghouls howled and bared their fangs, trying to claim their prey back. Despair… the kind she had never felt before grabbed her heart. Was this what her life had been leading up to? All her choices and efforts? Just to die here as food for monsters?

Grandmother handed Little Ant her spear and drew her knife.

“Do what you must to escape.” Old Badger said.

Then the old goblin cut her hand and drew out fresh blood. She raised her bleeding fist and caught the attention of both the kelpie and the ghouls. Then she started running away from Little Ant. Trying to lead the monsters away.

“Come and get me if you’re brave enough, vermin!” Grandmother shouted while shaking her fist.

The ghouls were the first to rush grandmother. Driven mad by blood and thirst. Fangs and talons bared. Green saliva dripping down their jaws. Blind to everything else besides their need.

And that was why they died first.

There was a flash of darkness when a great shadow tore into the ghouls and ripped them to shreds. They hissed and growled but their threats didn’t matter when they learned the oldest truth of The Wyrding. There was always something bigger and stronger than you. And one day you might meet it.

Grandmother’s eyes widened and glistened with tears when she saw their savior.

With the blood of ghouls on his fangs and claws, His Savage Highness walked between the goblins and the kelpie. Even through the black fur you could make out the muscles in his back and his eyes glowed in the night like exploding stars. The kelpie brayed and screeched while scraping the ground with its hoofs. In return the fox prince bared his red fangs and growled. Two great beasts trying to intimidate each other but neither would blink and retreat.

Both the kelpie and skin-changer moved faster than she could see.

There was a maelstrom of kicking hoofs and slashing claws when the skin-changer and kelpie tore into each other. It was a brutal battle where both combatants just wanted to kill each other without a care at the cost. The kelpie tried to crush the fox prince’s ribs and spine with its hoofs while the fox prince tried to put out the kelpie’s eyes with his claws and rip out the water horse’s throat with his fangs.

Kill it, Little Ant thought.

The battle was between two natural killers. Hunting instincts had been the skin-changer’s and kelpie’s birthright. She had trained all her life to master the spear, but this kind of natural violence would always be beyond her.

A truth she was grateful for.

There was a roar of pain when the kelpie sunk its teeth into the fox prince’s hide and tried to drag him into the river. Into a watery grave. But this just presented one of the kelpie’s legs to the fox prince and he bit in. There was the snap of a bone when the fox prince’s fangs cut through the hide and muscle and then sank into the marrow. Blinding pain made the kelpie let go and it tried to limp back into the protection of the river, but the skin-changer wasn’t having any of it. Moving with terrible savagery, the fox prince sunk his fangs into the kelpie’s throat and rattled the kelpie with all his might. The kelpie’s neck and throat gave out before the fox prince’s jaws, and he threw his dead enemy back into the water. The dead kelpie floated just long enough for Little Ant to see the light go out of the yellow eyes. When it sunk under the stream the river was tinted red. The fox prince threw back his head and let out a victorious howl like he was trying to make the stars themselves hear him.

“Prince!”

Old Badger ran to her old friend and hugged one of his legs. The maddened glow left the fox prince’s eyes and he looked at grandmother warmly. He rested his snout on top of her head.

“My princess. Are you alright?” The fox prince asked.

Grandmother grinned and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Never better.”

The fox prince snorted.

“It takes more than a kelpie and some ghouls to take down The Wyrding’s finest duo.” The fox prince said and then looked at Little Ant: “What about you?”

Little Ant could only nod. If she tried to speak… she was sure she would break down crying.

“She distinguished herself.” Grandmother said and smiled at her: “I couldn’t be prouder.”

“You have trained her well.” The fox prince said.

“I do my best.” Old Badger said and brushed her brow: “I was right. There is a master vampire.”

“Yes. You were right but I can do you one better. I have his son, and he needs our help.”

“Ours?” Grandmother said: “What about the viscount?”

“He needs help too. What do you say, old friend? Up for one more adventure?” The fox prince said.

In response grandmother smiled and to sign the pact rubbed the fox prince under the jaw.

The fox prince led them out of The Wyrding and just the scent of a skin-changer made the ghouls flee in terror. The undead could never stand gods of life.

Past the Wyrd Stones they found a pretty, young man with dark eyes and brown hair waiting for them by a strange metal vehicle. Despite the years that had passed, she recognized him as the boy from the pictures in the cursed house.

The young man smiled awkwardly when he saw them and waved.

“Hi.” The young man said.