Nymphenwald was a beautiful place.

The bright light of the morning sun filtered through the foliage, lush and green, waving in the wind. Trees taller than village houses, thick-trunked and long-branched, towered over the lord and the mage as they made their way through the woods. They followed a distributary of the Felton River as it meandered along, its water so clear they could see their reflections and small fish swimming in it with ease. Pretty purple flowers bloomed around them in this season and they occasionally passed wooden cottages, big or small but always quaint, built by people like Denys Farano, who'd made themselves at home among the nymphs.

Sometimes undead corpses stumbled by and ruined the view, but Audren was starting to see them as part of the scenery.

"Nymphenwald is big," Terry had stated not long after they'd crossed the bridge and ventured into the area. "If the countess is here, she could still be anywhere. Where do you want to start looking?"

Audren had thought about his history lessons, about how the ancestors of every Avondorian alive had lived as nomads, travelling in small groups, hunting and gathering to survive. Once people had started to farm and build houses, villages that would grow into cities, a pattern had become visible: people settled where there was water and fertile ground, which they needed to survive. With that logic in mind, he figured a runaway countess probably wouldn't stray too far from water. He'd suggested travelling along the distributary.

"But we should keep an eye out for nymphs or other living creatures who can help us," he'd declared. "If anyone happens to have seen her, it will make our lives easier. We musn't refrain from asking for assistance."

Gaining such assistance, however, was easier said than done. Nymphs were a curious sort, didn't show themselves to the world often. Audren had half-expected them to be out in greater numbers now, with far fewer humans to potentially harass them, but it seemed the creatures liked the Cursed even less, harmless to them or not. The few cottages they found were too silent to be occupied, its human or half-nymph inhabitants either dead or fled, the nymphs unwilling to show themselves. Audren caught glimpses of some, but the spirit-like women retreated into the trees they were bound to before he could even call out to them. Not that he blamed them; if he had been a nymph and had seen strange humans pass by, covered in blood, he would have thought twice about approaching them, too.

They'd been wandering for a good while when a nymph finally showed some bravery.

"Weary travellers," a female voice spoke, melodious and mysterious both, as nymph voices often were. "Do you mind if I ask what your purpose is here? Are you passing through to the south?"

Audren looked to his left, saw a nymph leaning against a cypress tree. She swept her long, brown hair over her shoulder and regarded him and Terry with piercing eyes, a sparkling but dark shade of green resembling that of the scalelike leaves of her cypress.

Finally, was his first thought, until he remembered he should be wary. When meeting a human stranger in the woods, it always remained to be seen whether they were benevolent or malevolent. For nymphs, that was no different.

"Hello," he greeted her, halting his horse and motioning for Terry to do the same. "I'll start by telling you we don't mean you any harm, unless you wish to harm us. But I don't enjoy being distrustful of people and I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you can help us. My friend and I are looking for someone."

The nymph frowned, grey dress flowing in the wind. "Who might that person be?"

"Countess Limnaia of Santonshire," Audren explained, racking his brain to try and remember what she'd looked like. He'd seen her at Mayor Gilvertos' banquet years ago, when Zavian had pointed out her supposed nymph heritage, and met her a few more times after that. "She has black hair that curls slightly and eyes so dark they might as well be coals. Skin slightly darker than the average Avondorian thanks to Far Southern blood. And... Well, she was... beautiful...?"

The nymph smirked. "Beautiful?"

Audren blushed involuntarily. "Objectively so."

Much to his relief, the nymph didn't make fun of him, instead sinking into a brief pondering. Audren glanced at Terry, who studied the nymph with precision, likely trying to pinpoint whether she could be trusted or not. As the nymph was busy thinking, he deemed it safe to mouth what are you thinking? to his companion. All she did was shrug helplessly.

"It is possible she's here," the nymph spoke slowly, looking straight at Audren. Her eyes were so dazzlingly green he feared moss might start growing on his soul. "There's a woman, one who matches your description at least in part. She tends to those few survivors who still come to the wood, seeking to flee to southern Avondor. She operates from Malodell, about ten minutes to southwest of here on foot. I can't stray far from my tree, though, so it's been a while since I've seen her in person. She hardly leaves the village."

Audren blinked. This was fantastic information. Chances were high the countess was here, not even ten minutes away if they relied on their horses. Still, an uneasy feeling gnawed at him, one he couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was how convenient this nymph's appearance was, with her innocent smile and silvery voice. Of course, it wasn't unlikely she made a habit of pointing travellers in the direction of sanctuary, but... It seemed too easy. And then there was-

"Malodell?" Terry almost exclaimed before he could properly finish his thought. "That's impossible. She can't be staying there. She wouldn't last a day."

The nymph huffed, innocent facade slipping away briefly as she sent the mage a glare. "Reality doesn't care about what you think is possible. I know a woman arrived when humanity was first cursed, that she made for Malodell and that I haven't seen her leave it permanently. She is alive. I have friends who did see her and they can confirm it for you."

"Thank you," Audren told her quickly, speaking before Terry could give the nymph a piece of whatever her thoughts were. "We appreciate it. We have to take a look in the village, it seems, so we'll be heading there. Take care."

"Oh, I will."

There was a glint in the nymph's eyes before she retreated into her tree like a shadow, something bright and dark at the same time. Audren didn't like it one bit. He spurred his horse in the direction of the southwest, anyway. What else did they have to go on? A lead was a lead, no matter how odd, implausible or even suspicious it might be. It was better than following the distributary on a whim.

"Lord Audren, hang on," Terry cut through his thoughts, tone sharp. "This isn't right. She has to be tricking us. If the countess was truly here to provide sanctuary for survivors, it doesn't make sense for her to stay in Malodell. The wraiths would scare off anyone with a functioning brain, even if she's found a way to deal with them."

"You'd be surprised," Audren replied, "what horrors people are willing to face when protection from the hungry undead is within reach."

"Still." The mage wouldn't relent. "Let's assume the countess is in Nymphenwald and the nymph wasn't lying. Why would she choose to stay in Malodell? We've seen enough abandoned cottages here she could've sought refuge in, but she didn't. She's choosing to stay among malicious spirits. There's only one reason I can think of for anyone to do such a thing, and it's to keep unwanted, nosy visitors away. Which contradicts the notion of offering sanctuary to exhausted survivors passing through. Something could be deeply wrong here."

Audren sighed. "I understand what you're saying, Terry, but... What if she is there, for whatever reason? When it comes to breaking the curse, she's our only hope. The least we can do is take a look. We'll exercise caution. Or do you have a better idea?"

Begrudgingly, Terry shook her head. "No."

"Then we'll face the wraiths of Malodell. We can't give up now. Not when we've come so far."

He sounded braver than he felt. The abandoned village of Malodell played a big role in one of Avondor's most well-known ghastly tales, popular even in his own remote mountain home. He'd heard it first as a young boy, trailing after one of the elderly shepherds with the other children he played with, begging for stories. The shepherd had been a kind man, willing to humour them as long as they could keep up while he worked and helped him out if it was necessary. His stories had made Audren laugh, cry, feel. It had been the story of Malodell, however, that had always haunted him.

Over a century ago, he recalled, Rizvan of House Rosengren, Duke of Aguiana in Southern Avondor, had tried to expand his duchy by conquering the neighbouring territories, including Nymphenwald. The human village of Malodell, situated on a little island by the Nymphenwald coast, had stubbornly resisted giving up its independence. Duke Rizvan, the monster, had retaliated harshly and massacred the whole population. Audren remembered how the shepherd told this story, as if he had been there and lived through the horrors himself. The lord could picture the massacre with ease, the smell of burning houses, bloody corpses littering the streets, screaming and crying, destruction as far as the eye could see.

In his mind, it had looked the way the world did now. Just a little.

Duke Rizvan had paid a dear price for his crime. The people of Malodell had died, but hadn't left. Their spirits had lingered, dark, malicious, haunting the grounds they'd been killed on, their hatred and misery keeping them tied to the realm of the living. The wraiths of Malodell had actively prevented the resettlement of their village by the duke's own people, but the nobleman, stubborn, had refused to accept as much. With a group of soldiers, he'd set out to cleanse Malodell once more.

The image Audren's mind had conjured up of how the duke and his men had been found still instilled fear into his heart. They lay in the woods, pale and cold to the touch, expressions of sheer terror frozen into their faces, eyes and mouths bleeding, bodies stiff and still. The duke had reaped what he sowed. Audren had been fortunate enough to have steered clear of evil spirits throughout his life, but the mere idea of these wraiths existing out there, capable of ruthless murder, had brought him many a sleepless night.

The closer they got to Malodell, the more the old cautionary tale flitted through his mind, a ball of nerves forming in his stomach. He would soon see the creatures that had haunted his dreams for years. Would they be as bad as the Cursed or worse? Maybe Terry was right. Maybe this was madness, nonsensical, and going to Malodell was nothing but a death sentence.

And yet, he didn't halt his horse, didn't turn around. This is our only choice. His people counted on him. His sister, the ambassador, Terry's father, Old Wilnor. Gem, Denys Farano, the guests of the Wisteria inn, and so many more. There was no way he could give up now.

It had always been his darkest wish to be capable of doing so.

He saw Malodell looming far too soon as he and Terry emerged from the woods, finding themselves by a strip of sand, the coast, the waves of the Western Sea lapping at the shore. Another stone bridge, almost identical to the one they'd crossed into Nymphenwald, connected the small island containing the village ruins to the mainland. Audren felt the wind blow through his bloodied hair, cloak flapping behind him. He sat up straighter in his saddle, steeled himself.

"I might be a necromancer, but I can only deal with so many wraiths," Terry told him, a dark look in her eyes. "If we're crossing this bridge, we'll be in immediate danger. I need you to be aware of that."

Audren looked up at the sky, watching grey clouds roll in from the west. It would rain soon. Malodell's ruined old houses stood ahead, enveloped in silence and the surreality of lingering agony.

"Yes, Terry," he heard himself say. "I understand."