KORIK
‘Mother Dagrún runs through the same rituals of thanks to the Great Scaled Mother, her voice a soothing rhythmic melody that nearly lulls me back into sleep.’
— Korik, “Ritual” They Come at Night
7 years earlier…
It’s a clear brisk winter morning and from the roof of the Fledgling Hall, I can see it thirty miles beyond Ditchwater. Beyond Lindgard and the Blood Fields, rising up from the perpetual fog born from centuries of magical warfare. The Grand Wall. The eight-hundred-foot barrier between the Kingdoms of Dragonar and Ukacia.
What must it be like beyond that wall? What must they be like? The Unikin?
I lean back against the roof, then curl onto my side to be closer to her voice.
This early in the morning few are awake in the village. And if I close my eyes I can almost delude myself into believing that her voice is Mama’s. Almost pretend everything since that awful night in the Wurm Wood is just a bad dream and I’m back with her again in our forest home.
Mother Dagrún runs through the same rituals of thanks to the Great Scaled Mother, her voice a soothing rhythmic melody that nearly lulls me back into sleep.
Mama…
I drift into the past.
«You cannot watch the rituals, Korik—only listen.»
«Why, Mama?»
«Because it is not allowed. Only the Great Scaled Mother may look upon us.»
I cling to the memories like a warm blanket on a frigid night, but they’re ripped away by that acrid stench of rot on the wind just like—
I bolt upright as a cacophony of crows scream murder and swarm up into the sky from the Wurm Wood.
They’re coming! They’re finally coming for me!
I grip the hilt of my kunai so tightly that I lose feeling in my fingers, but I don’t dare let go. My heart is pounding so fiercely in my chest that I can no longer hear anything else.
They’re coming. They’re—
But nothing happens. The Wurm Wood goes quiet and still once more. And the crows resettle.
Mother Dagrún’s voice resurfaces, unburdened by the turmoil in my heart.
It’s not real. It’s just in your head, I remind myself. And one by one I’m forced to pry my fingers free from my blade. And admit that I frightened myself over nothing.
I’m shaky and chilled to the bone and I just want to snuggle beneath the covers where I feel safe and warm. So I start to make my way back toward our bedroom window. And that’s when I hear it—a sort of moaning grunt. Like a forest boar suffering but…also not.
I peer over the edge to find Gunther with his forehead pressed against the side of the ritual chamber. His breathing rapid and heavy.
Gunther? What is he…?
My former broodmate slaps a palm against the side of the chamber, his whole body shuddering. And I realize with a jolt of revulsion what he’s doing. What he’s been doing. And that he’s been watching her.
I react without hesitation. The anger like scolding water in my veins. My heel strikes the gutter of the roof with such force a torrent of icy cold rainwater comes splashing down on him.
Gunther curses, sputtering. And I feel something hot and chaotic churning in my stomach.
“You shouldn’t spy on Mother,” I warn in a low deadly voice that sounds unlike my own. “Next time, She Among the Stars might choose to strike you blind herself.”
He squints up in my direction with hate-filled eyes. A murderous sneer curling his lip. “You’ll regret that.”
I glare right back at him from atop the roof. “I don’t think I will. You’d have to catch me first.”
Note: dialogue in Guillemets— sideways double chevrons « and » —are in a language other than Dragotic the common Dragokin tongue.
Was Korik’s mother a runaway priestess? And am I wrong or is Gunther beyond creepy? And will Kor end up regretting this?
Find out in the next episode of They Come at Night!
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