A Touch of Moonlight |ONC 2022|

.6.

Olesya flew down the street, boots pounding over slick, packed snow. She rounded corners sharply, waiting for the deadly arc of a sword. Waiting for pain to steal her breath and hot blood to spray into the frozen air. She slipped and slid, barely keeping her feet in her mad race away from death.

Who knew it would have such a lovely face?

The cold air turned her throat and the tops of her lungs to brittle glass. The wind howled around her, snatching the scarf from her throat and tearing at her hair. Shouts of alarm were lost beneath the wild drum of her pulse in her ears.

Still, Olesya ran.

And ran and ran.

Until her knees were threatening mutiny and it felt as though the back of her throat had been stripped raw. She stumbled into a narrow alley between a tavern and a bakery, fetching up against the frozen bricks of the alley wall. Her chest heaved, her scar throbbing.

The feel of the man's fingers still burned hot on her jaw. 

She wiped at her watering eyes, breath frosting in front of her. Slowly, she slid down the icy wall, crouching in the snow. Straga hadn't seen a blood witch in over fifteen years. It wasn't a very easy branch of magic. While the most powerful, it was also the most dangerous. Fueling magic with blood was risky for obvious reasons.

Her fingers tingled at the very thought.

Once she had caught her breath and was certain the blood witch wasn't following her, Olesya slowly pushed to her feet. Her carefully curled hair was tangled around her face after her wild run, dark strands tickling at her cheeks. Olesya carefully draped her scarf over her hair, pulling it up to cover the lower half of her face as well. After blessing the frozen air that would keep her from looking too suspicious, Olesya slipped back into the flow of foot traffic winding its way through the city.

Slowly the crowd thinned until she was alone, winding through the narrow streets that led to her home. Her steps sped as the wrought iron gate with its thorny vines came into view. She hadn't quite gotten the information she wanted, but Vasilisa had given her clues. Perhaps a nice cup of tea in front of a fire would help her untangle the knot Vasilisa had tied.

Stinging snow was blown into her face on a sharp gust of wind.

Perhaps some cookies would help as well.

Her fingers had barely brushed the latch when a voice spoke from behind her. "Running from a blood witch is not particularly wise."

Olesya whirled, back pressing against the cold iron. She opened her mouth, then shut it, a frown carving a deep line between her brows. The voice was the same. And the face was too. But rather than hair black as pitch, this man's hair was white as the snow beginning to trickle down around them.

He cocked his head, pale eyes sweeping from Olesya's covered head to her unfashionable boots. He folded his arms over his chest, the deep blue silk of his robes rustling.

"Small," he said.

Olesya blinked. "I...what?"

"You're quite small. Is he sure you're the one?" He took a step forward, making Olesya's fingers start to tingle. She glanced up at the dark houses around them, balling her fingers into tight fists.

He glanced down, a smile beginning to play around full lips.

Brothers, she realized distantly. An oddly matched set of twins.

"My bet is air," he continued, like this was a perfectly normal conversation between friends. Or at least acquaintances. Neither of which she was with him. "Hyunsoo-ah disagrees. He thinks fire, but you're too timid for that."

Olesya was very near to showing him just how timid she was.

"Mm." He flicked a long strand of white hair over his shoulder. "We'll see, I suppose. But I'll let him explain. You like him more than you like me."

"I don't like either of you," she snapped, turning and yanking the gate open. She let it close with a teeth-clattering bang, scurrying up the short path to her house. 

The key refused to work with her, dancing around the keyhole before she finally managed to jam it home and unlock the door. It creaked open and she all but fell inside, hurrying to close and secure it behind her.

Olesya put her back to the door, letting out a long breath as she slid to the ground. A trip to the shop always left you with more than you'd asked for. And Vasilisa had given her far too much to mull over. Strange for the voldicz.

Not to mention the pair of foreign witches too interested in her for comfort.

"Blood and moonlight and snow," she murmured to herself, slowly unwinding the scarf from around her head. She touched the scar. "Well, at least some of it makes sense. Now for the rest."

She pushed up to her feet, dropping the scarf on the banister of the stairwell as she made her slow way down the dark hall. The door to her mother's workshop waited like a maw ready to devour her at the end of it. 

Olesya made it all the way up to the door, then stopped, just as she always did. The smell of smoke soured her stomach, screams ringing in her ears. Her fingers tingled, her heart thumping harder and harder against her ribs. 

"Why do you never pass the threshold?"

Olesya yelped, whirling around. 

The man from Vasilisa's shop stood in the open doorway, hands held up in surrender. Olesya stood frozen, trapped between death and a nightmare.

He slowly lowered his hands, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry. I...I don't know what to say. I didn't..." His brow creased as he struggled for words. Finally, he gave up, teeth clenched and head down.

Olesya leaned back against the door to her mother's workshop, unsure of what to do. Silence wound between them, bitter as the wind outside. Eventually, the only sensible question came out of her mouth. "Are you going to kill me? Is that why you're here?"

His eyes were so startled and hurt she almost regretted asking it. But she just met his gaze steadily, not withdrawing her question.

"No," he said, voice flat.

"Then what does a blood witch want with me?"

He stared at her for a moment, then scoffed. "Blood witch." He laughed, teeth flashing white in the gloom. His eyes met hers again. "Yes. I'm a blood witch. It didn't bother you quite so much three days ago."

"Th-Three days ago?" Her voice came out as a squeak. "Three?"

The color drained from the man's face, leaving him looking ill. "Oh," he whispered. "Oh, you truly remember nothing."

Olesya's temper began to fray, the tingling in her fingers growing to pinpricks. "Who are you?"

His lips parted, but all he did was grimace and turn, running out the door. Surprised, Olesya sprang forward and raced after him, like a startled dog after a hare. 

By the time she reached the door, he'd left no trace but bootprints leading to the still-closed gate. 

Count: 1162

Total Count: 6340