Night Witch

Chapter 5

The Forest of the Dead was silent, which, somehow, made Karina more scared than if it had been loud.

Her stomach twisted a bit more with every step on the thorny path, and goosebumps pricked her skin. This was the home of her nightmares. All throughout her lifetime, she'd heard monstrous tales of this place; fang-filled stories that left her trembling by the campfire on Trader's Day, stories that reminded every Moracian that the Forest was the thing to be feared above all.

Besides yagas, of course.

The trees were black and grew strangely, twisting towards the sky. Dark vines wrapped around the trees, the leaves and berries upon them glistening in the sunlight that would surely disappear as soon as they fully entered the Forest.

"Thanks for the banishment, you bastards," Hans muttered under his breath, and for once, Karina had to agree with him. She barked out a harsh laugh, trying to ignore the roiling pain in her stomach.

The point of a knife dug into her back, and she winced at the sharp pain. "He talks, you both pay," Duras whispered threateningly in her ear as his knife pressed farther into her back. The sting was immediate, and Karina struggled to keep her lips firmly pressed together and a cry suppressed beneath it.

"Duras," said Helga from behind them. Karina could hear the girl's smile. "Isn't Karina's yagamark especially ugly today?"

"Especially," Duras agreed. The pain increased, and Karina barely resisted the urge to cry out. I hate this I hate him I hate Moracia--

"You know," Helga continued, stepping in front of Karina and effectively stopping the group from moving forward, "I've always wondered what her face would look like with that piece carved out." Helga's hazel-eyed gaze fixed upon Rosin, who looked uncomfortable as he stared at a rotten leaf sprouting from the ground. "How do you think she'd look, Rosin? How much more undesirable than now?"

An unmistakable chill snaked down Karina's spine, and the marked half of her face suddenly felt cold. Duras let the knife slide away from her flesh, causing a breath to hiss out with relief.

"I dunno," Rosin mumbled, "I guess less desirable?"

"I guess," Helga said smoothly, approaching the bumbling farmer. "Just like I guess you have a good eye for your vegetables, eh?" Helga leaned in close to Rosin, whispering words that Karina could somehow hear. "And I guess that's why you have a quarter of your crop hidden in your root cellar away from the rest of Moracia." Helga pulled away from Rosin, whose eyes were wide. "It's our secret," she mouthed, winking at Rosin, who nodded gratefully.

Karina felt sick. "Can we just continue?"

The knife returned to her back for a slim second, but they continued walking. As they passed through the twisted trees of the Forest of the Dead the air instantly got colder, and the ground beneath their feet became covered in a thick layer of thorns.

"Rosin," Duras said sharply after a few minutes of walking through the Forest, "we're at the banishment spot."

The burly farmer let go of Hans, wiping his hands on his trousers before retreating.

"Olga. Oracle of the Village of Moracia, our shining beacon of light to the rest of Skava. Do the deed."

Olga stepped forward before placing a plump hand on both Karina's and Hans's heads and chanting in a lyrical language that Karina could somehow understand. "Ancestors, we implore your divine beings to bless the Village of Moracia and to bless the banishment of this yaga and warlock. Ancestors, burn their memories and their places among the spirits." She hummed, her purple eyes closed. "Ancestors, bring Duras, Rosin, Helga, and your divine Oracle back to the honored village of Moracia."