The Unspeakables

Hexing Hour

The glade held its breath. The surface of the pool was an unblinking eye, reflecting the tense huddle of humans at its edge. Then, with a rustle like dry leaves, a shadow detached from the gnarled base of the ancient tree.

It was less a creature emerging, and more a piece of darkness itself taking form. Skeletal and sleek, with leathery wings and an unsettling grace, it was a Thestral. Its eyes, hollow pools of white, seemed to fix on them, then flick away as if sensing their fear and finding them unworthy.

One by one, more Thestrals materialized from the shadows, a herd of spectral horses born of night and death. Dorina, voice hushed with awe and a touch of old fear, whispered ancient words, a soothing rhythm that seemed to calm the skittish creatures.

Slowly, pairs approached the Thestrals. Sebastian felt a surge of protectiveness as Ennea stood beside him, her hand briefly touching his before she reached out to the creature. Its skin, cool against their fingers, felt like worn velvet covering taut muscle. With a mix of trust and trepidation, they swung onto the Thestral's broad back, settling close for balance. Ennea's grip on his waist was tighter than mere balance required, a silent signal of the darkness seeping through her veins.

Ennea's eased-up composure seemed to falter. The climb through the forest echoing a dark change. The curse was gripping her.

The Thestral's wings unfurled, impossibly vast, seeming to swallow what little light filtered through the canopy. With a surge of power, they were airborne. The glade shrank, the forest a textured carpet beneath them. The world tilted as they spiraled upwards, sunlight piercing like shards of glass.

Then, they broke through... into a sky painted with hues no earthly dawn could boast. Before them, shimmering like a mirage, hung Valea Magiei, wreathed in swirling mists and protected by an opalescent barrier. Yet, even amidst the wonder, Sebastian felt the shuddering of the Thestral beneath them, its unease echoing Ennea's silent battle against the curse.

Below, the village spread out, a patchwork of weathered stone and thatched roofs. The air thrummed with ancient magic, a tangible force that pricked his skin with both fear and fascination. This was the source, the heart of the curse... and the only place to break it.

With a jolt that stole his breath, the Thestral pierced the shimmering barrier surrounding Valea Magiei. The village rushed up to meet them, cobblestone streets and quaint houses blurring as they swooped low for a landing. Villagers, their faces a mix of awe and apprehension, spilled from the buildings, a confused murmur rising from the crowd.

Dorina and Emilian slid from their mounts. Dorina's words sliced through the air, no longer merely foreign, but urgent. She wasn't seeking to soothe the villagers, but to echo their desperation, demanding answers. Emilian's hand stayed on her shoulder, the touch less comfort than a steadying brace. Before speaking to Ennea and Sebastian, Dorina faced the villagers, their gaunt faces pressing closer with each rapid-fire exchange. Ennea slumped further against Sebastian, each word Dorina spoke weighing upon her weakened frame.

Whispers erupted in the abrupt silence, shattering the stillness. Eyes on them – ravenous, hungry, not welcoming. From the crowd, an older woman emerged, the villagers parting with an air of reverence. Mădălina Soare – blind, yet her gaze seemed to pierce Sebastian, holding a clarity that made the hair on his arms prickle. It wasn't the curse she looked upon, but something she recognized within him, a darkness echoing her own.

"Ennea's curse..." Dorina urged him, the air turning brittle. "She knows. Bring her to Mădălina...come" Her voice hung heavy, the name not a promise, but a warning echo. "There's not much time left now..." Each word fell like stones to Sebastian's gut, crushing hope into a desperate knot.