Beyond the Veil of Yonder (Book 1)

38. The Hollowed Souls

⚠️ Depiction of mental trauma and references to SA

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William's shoulder ached, and his right hand moved with stiffness. Each breath he took intensified the pain. Edward cast concerned glances towards his brother as they rode—he didn't like his state. Although the wound from the bloodfiend's attack wasn't deep, William seemed to weaken more and more, while Edward, luckier, had only scratches and bruises after being dragged across the ground by his horse.

As the night grew darker around them, the stars above were the only light. Following Meab, the northern star, the brothers proceeded with caution. The wind turned colder, and the Valtharian border drew uncomfortably near. The fear of crossing it or encountering another bloodfiend was real, and either could be fatal. That's why reaching the capital of Aradon, Emberholde, in their injured state was out of the question.

Suddenly, like a beacon, the flickering flames of a settlement came into view. It seemed the people here didn't bother hiding from the bloodfiends.

"There's a village nearby. We could seek help there," Edward said, breaking the silence. William nodded reluctantly, his breathing shallow. When they approached the nearest house, Edward, despite the ache in his muscles and pain, helped William off his horse.

They knocked on the door, but for a while, no one answered. A faint light glowed through the window, but it seemed like no one was home. Just as Edward was about to give up, cautious footsteps echoed inside. The door creaked open, and a wary eye peered at them through the narrow opening.

Edward cleared his throat. "We were attacked by a bloodfiend. My brother's injured. Can you help us?" The silence that followed was tense. "Please..." Edward's voice cracked with desperation. "He may die..."

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened wider, revealing an elderly woman in worn, threadbare clothes. Her concerned eyes darted between them, taking in their battered appearance. Unkempt and ragged, they probably looked like marauding Valtharians or common robbers.

In these borderlands, caught in the tumultuous crossfire between Valtharia and Aradon, locals developed a deep mistrust of outsiders. The past war had left their lands scarred, repeatedly changing hands between the warring sides. The few who hadn't perished or fled had learned to guard their silence and solitude, wary of strangers.

Despite her hesitation, the woman invited them in. The sparsely furnished room echoed the simplicity of her clothes. A lone candle on the scarred table cast a faint light, unable to dispel the darkness or bring warmth.

Edward looked around the small space which screamed of misery. "We have some food remaining. We'd be glad to share," he said to the woman. "How many of you live here?"

"Just me and my daughter," the woman whispered, barely audible.

With Edward's support, William sank heavily into a chair. In the faint candlelight, his skin looked pale and clammy, with beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. As the woman helped him remove his clothes to examine the wound, her eyes kept drifting to his scars.

"Are you men of war?" she asked, her voice laced with apprehension.

William nodded weakly, his eyes half-closing under the weight of exhaustion.

The woman let out a sorrowful sigh. "Every man I've ever loved... my boys, my husband... the war claimed them all, left me with nothing but memories."

The room fell silent. The shared sorrow was too raw, too uncomfortable to discuss. Edward turned away, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some movement in a dimly lit corner. A chill crept through him as he discerned something inhuman there. Dishevelled and unkempt, the figure drew closer, and a pair of wild, unsteady eyes met Edward's, making his heart race. Then the features became apparent. It was a young woman sitting on a pile of rags, her clothes torn and dirty. She stretched her lips into an unsettling smile, sending shivers down Edward's spine. Then her eerie laughter followed, hollow and devoid of joy.