𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

𝟎𝟑. 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟔𝟔𝟔

Dusk had barely fallen over Union when Sarah knocked upon your window. You had just put Johanna to bed and made an effort to tiptoe as quietly as you could across the cold wooden floors toward the noise.

You had undressed to your nightgown, too afraid that you would muddy your day clothes and reveal your secret affairs to the entire settlement come morning. You handed Sarah your cloak through the crevice between the plated glass doors before opening it further to allow yourself room to slip through.

Her eyes glittered in the unfiltered moonlight—wonder and excitement and mischief all at once. You wanted to bottle up that look and save it for a rainy day, but instead you reached for her hand and allowed her to lead you through the empty village at a brisk run.

She helped you stifle your laughter when you nearly tripped over a stray chicken up until you finally reached the edge of the glade where Lizzie and Hannah were waiting with a lantern—like a golden beacon in the dark.

"The berries help us see the world beyond our own," Lizzie explained, leading the four of you deeper and deeper down the winding path, descending into thick darkness. "Just one bite is all it takes."

The widow lived alone in a small hut under a cliff. Before she had been casted out of Union, she worked closely with your aunt. But that was ages ago and she had undoubtedly forgotten your face when she adopted her hermit lifestyle.

"What does an old woman need with that?" Sarah scoffed.

Lizzie squinted. "She's not just an old woman. The widow is a thousand years old. She drinks the blood of virgins to keep her youth."

You rolled your eyes. Someone had been spending too much time with Constance Berman.

"Well you're safe then," Sarah mumbled under her breath, kicking up stones as you walked. Your palm slapped against your mouth in surprise and Hannah choked to conceal a laugh beside you. Lizzie stuck her tongue out mockingly but continued. "She sacrificed her husband to become the devil's bride. That's how she gained eternal life."

A cold wind brushed against the back of your neck and your smile weakened. You still hadn't completely flushed out the images of your nightmare from your mind. Solomon's reassurance had only held the visions at bay for so long.

Sarah shoved Lizzie in the shoulder, moving between you to offer you her hand. "That's not true and you know it, you horrid girl."

With your free hand, you reached for Hannah's and the three of you walked together in a straight line in the glow of Lizzie's lantern. You felt guilty for coming between Hannah and Sarah, and you knew that if she wasn't such a good friend, she would make you walk ahead with Lizzie, but you felt as though you would burst into tears otherwise.

The forest thinned at the base of the tall cliff and you saw the widow's home jutting out from the rocks like a burrow of sun-bleached animal hide. It was much less welcoming than Solomon's cottage, but it looked so much warmer.

Lizzie trudged fearlessly ahead, pulling aside one of the tan flaps and ducking inside. "Widow Mary?" she whispered softly. 

You peered over her shoulder at the room inside. A small fire was crackling in the center. Smoke billowed out of a small hole in the roof. It was one of several rooms divided by curtains of pelts that hung from the rounded ceiling.

"She's not here," Lizzie called back to you with a grin. "Find the berries."

You gulped when Sarah and Hannah brushed past you, making their way inside without haste. Still clutching the flap, you watched them dig through shelves and crates, lifting lids and opening sealed jars.

"The widow will be back," you reasoned. "She'll be angry. We should leave."

"Nonsense (Y/N)." Lizzie was on her hands and knees, sifting through a shelf filled to the brim with all different bottles and vases. "The faster we find the berries, the faster we'll be at the fire. You'll be with Mad Thomas in no time at all."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, moving inside only so that the wind did not put out the fire. You took a deep breath in through your nose—incense, beeswax, and spices. The scents melted together and made your throat sting.

Without realizing it, you had backed up into a corner, bumping something hard with the backs of your legs. Quickly spinning around, you clutched the corner of the low table to catch your balance. The only object on the otherwise barren table caught your eye and you squinted against the semi-darkness to inspect it.

You felt the leathery spine of the thick book and caught the corner between your fingers. You'd never seen a book with so many pages other than the collection of gospels that Hannah's father kept on the mantle in their home.

It was as if your mind had left your body as you pried open the worn cover and flipped through the crumbling brown pages. Detailed diagrams and sketches surrounded by scribbled notes and labels.

Human bodies being impaled over ritual fire. Goats being gutted and set aflame. Ancient tongues and incantations. The evil was lapping at your fingertips, making your skin tingle.

For a moment, it was as if you had been entirely alone in that shack. Like the rest of the world was holding its breath as you cautiously flipped the page one last time. A gasp rose up in your throat and you caught it with your palm before it could leave your lips.

It was the creature from your dream. Horned and massive, the beastly man sat cross-legged at the very center of the page. Words were cast around his head in a wide arch. You struggled to read them in the dying light.

"Abbadon...Azazel...Beelzebub...Moloch..." you squinted and drew closer but stood up straight as your blood turned to ice in your veins. "Satan."

"Don't."

A foreign voice hissed behind you. You whipped around with a yelp and saw the widow herself standing a hair's width away.

She stepped closer, if it were even possible. Her face was sunken and pale. "The veil has grown thin with the turn of the moon. And with it, the morning star rises."

"I don't...I don't understand."

"Beware the Devil," she spat. "He lives in that book. He calls to you from it. He senses you now."

The flap that acted as the front door was billowing in the night breeze. You sidestepped toward it, hoping to run for the woods, but the widow caught your arm in between her talon-like nails and reeled you back. "If you're not careful, he'll bore himself beneath your skin and consume you from the inside out."

"Hey!"

Sarah was standing in the open doorway. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her jaw set tightly. "Don't you touch her," she snapped. You unweaved yourself from the widow's hand and reach out for your friend, who pulled you outside and out of her wicked reach. "You will never speak to her that way again, you hag. Never."

If the widow ever responded to Sarah's threat, you weren't around to hear it. She led you—quickly—back to the edge of the woods where Lizzie and Hannah were waiting. In Lizzie's hands, a sachet of maroon-colored berries. At least you got what you came for.

But at what cost?

"What did she say to you?" Hannah asked, looking almost as frightened as you felt. You wanted to respond, but your mouth did not have the same intentions. You could only shake your head, focusing on the lantern that hung from her hand.

"I know what you need," Lizzie grinned just like she always did when she was about to stir the pot of mischief. She offered you her closed fist, opening it upwards to reveal a single red berry, as round and ripe as the sun.

"Full moon rises."

(A/N: Dude the next chapter is so fun. I haven't written anything new in a hot second. I need to catch up! Thanks for getting this book to 1K so fast!! You guys are awesome!)