The Weaver's Source

Chapter 100

A tiny shack covered in the grey early morning light stood before us as I huddled close to Grigore and the ward the kept me safe from the hail storm surrounding me. It appeared more rundown than any of the other buildings that stood crookedly nearby and even they were looking as if there were about to collapse under their own weight. The wooden walls were bowed from the harsh weather and there were more tiles on the muddy frozen earth than there were on the roof. I was worried that the whole building would collapse when Teodor banged his fist against the door mercilessly.

I watched curiously, tangling my fingers on a hook on Grigore's belt and urging my magic to be alert. The door opened slightly and a tiny haggard woman appeared, clutching a small toy to her flat chest.

"Have you heard anything?" She asked instantly and without much hope.

"We have a Weaver so we will soon." Teodor replied without warmth, indicating to Grigore who stood a little ominously in the wind. "He needs to see your home, Olga."

The scrawny woman Olga very slowly opened the door. It creaked noisily and she stepped side, letting them in. Grigore stiffened when Teodor grasped his arm firmly in a manner that told me it wasn't as friendly as he tried to make it out to be.

"I'll leave you alone now. I have things to do."

Grigore simply bobbed his head in response. Once Teodor had marched off, Grigore stepped into the open doorway and guided me after him. It wasn't any warmer in the shack than it was outside, I could even still fill the wind slightly and the rain rattled against the roof deafeningly. I stood aside, eyeing the tiny candles that battered some of the darkness away and the simple chairs and table that took up most of the room. Meats hung from the wall, creating a horrible stink, and the hearth was dead and filled with charcoal.

"What do you want to see?" Olga asked tiredly. She looked so small and ragged with huge dark smudges under her eyes. Even her greying hair hung lifeless against her gaunt face.

"Everything. Do I have free range?"

She nodded slowly. "There isn't much but look at anything you want. I'll stay here."

"Can you tell me about your child first?" Grigore asked.

Olga looked up at him, as if she was about to cry. "Stela her name was. My daughter. She was ten. I made her toys and clothes as I couldn't buy anything for her but she loved them still."

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

"I went to bed as usual. Stela sleeps with me. I woke up long before dawn and she wasn't there. She wasn't downstairs either and the door was open. I haven't seen her since."

"And nothing is out of place? Nothing seems strange to you?"

"Everything is as I left it. Stela just left and I don't know why. She was a good girl and never went outside the house without telling me."

Grigore nodded, growing thoughtful. "Thank you." He said simply and left the grieving mother alone.

I glanced at her while I followed Grigore into the next room, frowning sadly as I saw her sit down and clutch the toy in her hands, staring at the wall without emotion.

"She looks so broken." I murmured when we entered what looked like some kind of lounge. Chairs and toys were littered across the tiny room and a loom sat in the corner.

"Her child has gone missing, I don't blame her." Grigore muttered. "I need your eyes, Lyra. Try see something I can't. If no one can see any signs of monsters it may be a haunting."

I nodded firmly and touched my magic, snapping it to attention. I stood in the room as Grigore began weaving, pressing wards against the floor as he sought his own information. I observed my surroundings as my magic searched. Everything looked so old and dead. The loom, while in mid use, was gathering a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, the homemade toys were crumbling and losing colour, the chairs looked as if they hadn't been sat in in a long time. Everything in this house felt strange and yet my magic couldn't detect a thing.