WRITTEN IN BLOOD | The Unnatural Brethren | Preview {Unedited}

3. Cruel Mother Nature

Darkness engulfed me for quite a long time. I embraced it with all my heart. Whether I dreamt, mattered little to me. My mind was safe and detached, and somewhere far away from facing any consequence derived from my actions at that lake.

At one point, the comforting dark veil dissolved before my eyes.

I was forced back into the four walls that confined me.

A new set of clothes and a steaming-hot bowl of broth waited for me on the bedside table.

The tapestries hung on the walls reminded me where I was.

The room's dim lighting granted my mind some ease. In a hypnotic trance, the hearth's licking flames rose and receded; shifting light and shadows scurried on the walls.

Alisa's embroidered shawl lay on the chair beside me; its floral motifs of wool and silk tinged in orange by the fire's faint illumination.

She was not in the room.

The figure standing before me was not hers.

Between the bed and the hearth, it stood; a shadow with a man's shape. In silence, its dark stare fixed at me.

Without making a sound, it moved closer to the fireplace.

Time to face Father's reprieve... What more could I expect, if not Father's scolding words after such a tragic incident?

However, it soon became clear, this was not my father.

The shadow moved closer to the fire and reached its hands over it as if to touch its flames. By its fluttering light, he became visible.

Water dripped from his wet blond hair onto the wooden floorboards while his quivering hands reached for the fire's warmth. The drenched shirt stuck on his back and elbows as did his breeches to his legs. No signs of footwear did I see.

"Viktor," I said. "Is that you?"

He remained silent. His sight set on the flames.

But I could not fool myself any longer. It was him. It was my brother, Viktor.

He was alive. And probably, very angry.

"Viktor, I am sorry for—"

"I am so cold," he said.

I reached to the bedside table for the set of fresh clothing.

"Here," I said. "You can have my—"

He was gone.

I turned to the door, it was locked. There was no other possible exit from this room; unless of course, he tried the window, but that was shut close too.

Where did he go?

How many hours had passed?

Piling questions stumbled my mind to the point of confusion.

I sat on the bed, pondering upon my memory's every frame concerning Viktor's fate, from the moment we stepped out of this house, to the last time I saw him emerge from the waters. Ingrained in my brain, his vivid image gasped for his last breaths as his life reached its end.

He was dead. I was sure of it!

Horror crept behind my neck. I had seen him in this room but a few seconds ago, and nothing would dissuade me from that thought! I had seen Viktor with my own eyes, and he was as alive as anyone could get.

"Am I losing my mind?" I whispered.

A voice answered in my head. It was loud and sullen, and ominous too. It uttered the words I feared the most ever since the moment I had opened my eyes to this room. Merciless, it spoke.