Crescent

6

The scent of potent herbs nearly had her spilling her empty stomach on the floor. Her eyes watered at the bitter smell, and she coughed to clear the taste from the back of her throat. Holding her breath, she carefully extracted the contents and laid them out in her lap, afraid of letting anything supposedly sterile touch the ancient, dust-ridden couch cushions. There was a thick roll of gauze, a small container of ointment, a pouch of dried herbs, and four glass bottles of clear liquid painted with white runes. A powerful pain suppressor—Vera shuddered at the memory of it going down her throat, thicker than pudding and white-hot. It worked wonders, however, and never failed. She had painful sparring matches with Wyn to thank for that knowledge.

Setting the supplies aside, she carefully slipped her boot off her injured foot. It had swelled since the night before and greatly resisted any movement that would aid the removal of the boot. Vera bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood and the pain in her mouth overpowered the screaming agony in her mind. With one final tug, the boot came free. Hazy with pain and triumph, she flopped against the back of the sofa. She blinked her tears away and tossed the boot aside, where it landed on the floor beside the other end of the couch, stirring another cloud of dust. Her sock came off easily, but the sight of her swollen ankle was enough to make her wish she had left it on. The sprained area had turned dark red, tinged purple so that the normal warm honeyed tone of her skin was impossible to see, and it burned like iron.

Blinking back tears, she glanced at the windows as she took a deep, weary breath. All she could see through the tattered curtains was the manor's courtyard, and the iron gate in the distance. It was a bright, cheery afternoon with no monster insight. Peaceful, yet with no promise to remain that way. She glared at the gate in the distance. As long as it kept the creature away, everything would be fine, and perhaps she could even learn to forgive it for searing her back.

She grabbed the ointment and unscrewed the cap. The thick cream was cold against her skin, quickly numbing the pain in her ankle as she massaged it into the wound. Once it was sufficiently slathered and icy, she wrapped her foot in gauze, fumbling to follow her vague memories of her mother's instructions. Although most fae quickly treated themselves with healing magic, her mother had taught herself and her children medicinal healing in case of emergencies—and, she used to say, for Vera.

You're different from us, Vera, she would say as she wrapped a small cut on Vera's arm, demonstrating how to treat it without magic. You will always lead a different life. And if you end up on your own, I want that life to be as easy as possible. Though deep down, there was always an unspoken wish for Vera to be married off to some wealthy fae man like Ferne, but they both knew the chances of anyone asking for Vera's hand over Eileen's were incredibly low.

Vera liked to joke that it was because Wyn threatened to beat senseless any man who tried to court her, but she couldn't blame Wyn for everything forever.

After ensuring the bandage was tight enough, she tied it off and sank back into the cushions with a sigh. Her back stung where it touched the sofa, but she didn't care. Her eyes were once again heavy, and her mind had become as thick as that medicine. Her head drooped against her chest, pulled down by some unknown weight. When her eyelids next fell closed, she was unable to open them; the world blurred into meaningless darkness once more.

⇠⇺☾⇻⇢

Shivering uncontrollably, Vera awoke on fire. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her sandpaper mouth, the edges of her eyes burned, her head was stuffed with cotton. As she sat up, her vision swung unfocused across the room, and she collapsed against one arm of the sofa, her balance swept out from under her. The windows loomed over her, shielded by a pair of ghostly curtains that swished in a gentle breeze, extending torn hems toward her before quickly withdrawing to the window face. Night had fallen outside, so dark that even the stars could not shine. The moon, too, was invisible, absent from the inky court of night. Fear flickered in her chest. Had she slept too long? Was it too late to stop the monster?

Disoriented, she pushed herself upright, heaving a weary breath. Sluggish and spinning, her mind struggled to keep up with the whirl of her thoughts. Fire consumed her whole body, all except for her ankle which had become a chunk of ice at the end of her leg. The back of her dress was drenched and plastered to her skin with sweat. Her hair stuck to her forehead, and she raked it out of her face as she stood on uneven legs.

One thought stood out, a scream that rose above the restless waves threatening to drown her. Water. She groped for her bag in the dark.

Light exploded around her. Vera sat back against the couch, blinking the black spots from her vision. When it finally cleared, her gaze snagged on the brilliant white flame, floating in the center of the next room. A gasp slipped from her lips and she stumbled to the entryway. It was the tongue of starlight from her dream and, like in her vision, it whispered in her voice, calling her toward it.

Come this way, it said, voice edged up in a smile. The phrase repeated until it became a monotonous drone, one that sent goosebumps along her arms.

"Who are you?" she called from the doorway, leaning heavily into it. Beneath her, the world swayed, but she held herself steady. Aside from the white light, the room was eerily dark, abandoned and forlorn. Like a ghost, the starlight flame drifted around the room, droning on and on. Vera shivered. "What are you trying to show me?"

The light flickered, bouncing with silent laughter. Filled with a sudden burst of energy, it zipped around the room in an erratic pattern, ricocheting from one wall to the next. It criss-crossed the room in patterns of glittering white lines, slowly giving shape to some message. When its dance finally ended, it fled down the hall into another room and out of sight, but the luminance symbol on the floor remained.

Vera frowned at the pattern, tilting her head to try to make sense of it. A four-point diamond shape covered the floor, connecting the front door to the entryway Vera stood in to two other points in the room. Beneath the four-point shape was another diamond, its points poking out along the sides of the top diamond. Together, they created a star with eight points.

Faint memories of the symbol tickled the back of her mind, but nothing of use emerged. When the light disappeared, removing the star from the ground, Vera returned to the parlor. Though her fevered mind couldn't make sense of what she had seen, unease wriggled beneath the surface. She extracted her sword from her things and curled up on the sofa with the blade in hand. This time, sleep did not come for her despite the heaviness in her body. She stared at the dark, empty room in silence until the night finally ended.

I went through three different descriptions of the star shape before I finally gave up and decided that's a problem for me to fix in editing, but I hope you can get some sort of idea of what it looks like. Unless you're like me and don't picture things when you're reading anyway. In that case, carry on :D

Poor Vera is too tired for this nonsense. She needs a proper break. Wonder when she'll get one.

See you next time!