An incessant tapping of glass shook Carmilla awake, her neck wringing sharply to the window to her left. Reflective sheen of black feathers quivered a shadow along the hardwood floors. The rapping of glass echoing in her head as she sat up, hair falling into her face as her vision adjusted to the light. A familiar call of a crow outside the window made her stand up, her bare feet shuffling to the sill. 

“Will you shut it?” She growled to the animal on the other side of glass, it responded with another gaggle of taps and flew off. Its ominous presence feeling like a warning. She shook it off and went to grab Celeste from the desk but paused. 

A sliver of a crack graced the dolls cheek, a blemish of red hives tarnishing the skin between her painted brows. Her head turned to the bed. Nearly stumbling to the table, Carmilla picked her up. Her thumb grazing over the cold porcelain, her fingertip snagging against the crack ever so slightly. The feeling of bile rose in her throat when her eye stared down at the cluster of painted like hives. Those weren’t there before. The crack could have been explained, but those rashes? 

Cradling Celeste in her arms, she sat back onto the bed. Still examining the dolls face with a puzzled look, when the satchel from her peripheral caught her focus. 

Come to think of it, she never even looked to see what was inside. What could have Donna thought to put in there. There wasn’t much space for a lot, so Carmilla’s only guess was clothing. 

Celeste was set down on her pillow as she reached for the leather bag, her hands working fast to unlatch the buckle. Once it was opened, she reached inside to feel around, her fingers greeted soft cotton. She was right about the clothes. But as she ventured further down, the startling feel of textured glass had her breath hitch. She opened the bag wider to look inside, a mason jar sat at the bottom. She pulled it out, the glass was tinted brown, and inside was a suspiciously thick liquid that clung to the sides of the bottle. Twine wrapped around the lid, a small slip of paper trapped beneath it. She tugged it out from the rope and read the refined writing. 

“For the time being,” She read aloud, curling a brow from the ascription. The unknown juice sloshed as she shook it, the brown glass making it hard to decipher much. She went to open the cap, but a timid knock on wood startled her. 

“Good morning! You awake?” A muffled voice said from behind the door. Quickly, Carmilla shoved the mason jar back into the purse haphazardly, and got up to open the door. 

She turned the knob and creaked it open, keeping silent as Elena stood rigidly with a tray of food in her arms. She smiled warmly, but it grew faint the longer Carmilla didn’t speak. She eventually inched from the door, nodding her head tiredly to let in Elena. 

“Not a morning person?” Elena chuckled out, brushing past to set the platter on the desk. Now with a better look, Carmilla scanned the plate of bacon and eggs and a cup of steaming tea. She felt a gag crawl up her throat, making her swallow thickly. 

“Not when a crow wakes you up,” She said, the annoyance not being spared. Elena let out a strained laugh, her fist covering her mouth. Her eyes a tad nervous at the mention of the bird, but she left it be. 

“Hmm! Happens to the best of us.” She gave a tight lidded smile before excusing herself. Once in the hallway, she looked back to Carmilla before she shut the door. 

“I’m going to the market today, thought it would be best if you come. You know, my father might go on another one if you’re left in his care.” 

Carmilla didn’t need much more convincing after she mentioned her father, so she nodded. 

“You’re probably right, I’m not the biggest fan of elderly people,” She said, a breathy chuckle causing Elena to smile wider. 

“Me neither,” She chuckled out, now making her way downstairs with a new lightness to her step. 

The afternoon air felt crisp in Carmilla’s lungs as she tailed behind a cheery Elena with her shopping basket. The pure contrast between them them quite unsettling for the villagers and herself. Elena was a bright girl who struck conversation with everyone she approached, but the lurking shadow of Carmilla deterred many from engaging in her flowery small talk. Guilt pressed in her stomach, ashamed that she caused such rejection. But that didn’t seem to bother Elena,  she pushed on through the crowded morning with the brightest smile that rivaled the sun peeking over a castle tower. 

The market buzzed with villagers, each person coming and going with hasty purpose. Children played by the frozen over canals, while parents distracted themselves with meager tasks of shoveling snow or battering their dusty rugs. Shopkeepers yelled and haggled with their customers, and Elena was in the middle of it all. People seemed to know her well, with how their grins widened along with hers. Most people ignored Carmilla, leaving her to act as a shadow behind Elena. Her green cloak a shield from the winters snow, and prying eyes. On one occasion, someone did acknowledge her. A scrawny butcher and his bushy mustache that looked like it violated every sanitary code.

“Better keep a close eye on that one, Ms. Lupu,” The man said, his crooked teeth showing more than necessary as he spoke. Carmilla had her back turned, but such a statement had her sneer at him from over her shoulder. She didn’t take lightly to men, but a man who kept his business in others irked her to no end. Elena shrugged it off with an easy smile, a subtle eye-roll to go along with it. 

“Don’t fret Grigore, she’s harmless,” Elena said as she took her order from the butcher. Carmilla wanted to scoff at her false claim, but took it at face value. 

That particular interaction had soured her mood. They walked from the butchers, the only thing around them being a one-sided conversation from Elena. She talked of winter, and of her favorite dishes to combat the draft in the cold hours of night. All the while, Carmilla listened to distract the cold that crept into her bones. They ventured further from the main square, the streets becoming more barren. 

In the distance, the sound of church bells sang out. That same direction, they trekked. Then came the sound of chattering as they rounded a corner. Ahead, there was the towns cemetery that surrounded a quaint chapel. People crowding the church gates, waiting for them to open. 

“I have a quick delivery to make, we’ll be in and out.” Elena said reassuringly once she noticed Carmilla’s clear discomfort with the religious sight. She sucked in an uneasy breath and nodded, wrapping the velvet cloak tighter, seeking comfort from it. 

The crowd in front of the gates parted as Elena made way to them, all eyes boring into Carmilla as she followed. She stared ahead, burning her gaze into Elena’s shawl. But the sight of blonde curly hair from her peripheral caught her heart in a net. Against her will, she stole a glance to see a small girl with crystal blue eyes stare at her in wonder. The child’s mother kept her close as she walked by, the girl hiding her face in her moms skirts. 

Sounds of grating metal snapped her back into reality. People now filing in as the church gates opened. On the other side, was a middle aged woman with gray hair in a tight bun. She looked weathered in her years, but still held a gentle smile as townspeople stepped through and into the chapel. Elena eventually caught up to her, her face rosy with the cold, unlike the older woman, who’s face just paled in the nipping breeze. Upon a closer look, Carmilla noticed her attire. An odd resemblance to the very mourning garb that Lady Beneviento wore. The only difference was the lack of a veil and a dark red scarf that wrapped around her arms. 

“Hello Luiza,” Elena said, greeting the woman with a brief hug. 

“Oh hello dear, how have you been? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you at congregation.” Luiza said, holding the girls face in her hands. 

“I’ve been good, just been taking care of my father.” 

Luiza sighed, removing her hands to hide them away in her scarf. “Poor Leonardo, I pray for him you know.” 

“I appreciate it,” Elena bowed her head, a saddened smile on her lips. She looked back up, now meeting Carmilla’s eye, her own widening in regard. Luiza turned her head, now seeing the other woman. 

“Who’s this?” Luiza raised her brows, looking to Elena for answers. But Carmilla spoke instead. 

“It’s Carmilla,” She held her hand out, expecting Luiza to be weary of her. But she takes in hers warmly, her face tender and welcoming. Odd, no one was this pleased to greet her. 

“What a beauty she is!” Luiza proclaimed, tilting her face to Elena. 

“Thank you,” Carmilla pulled her hand away, uncomfortable of the praise. 

“I have what you asked for Luiza,” Elena said suddenly, reaching into her shop basket and pulled out a small blue bottle. The label stating the pharmacy that Elena and Carmilla had visited earlier, but no explanation of what it could be. 

Luiza took it rather quickly, giving Elena a tight grin. “Thank you dear, you’re a life saver. My poor husband has been ill without his medicine.” 

“Of course, tell him I said hello,” Elena pats Luizas shoulder with a somber smile. 

“He’d be delighted to hear that,” Luiza gave her another hug, petting down Elena’s hair. “And please, do try to make it to congregation when you can.” 

Elena nodded with a smile that did not reach her eyes. Carmilla stepped back, thinking that was it from that conversation when Luiza turned back to her. 

“You’re welcome to join us too, everyone is welcome in the arms of our benevolent Mother.” 

“Thank you,” Carmilla muttered out, not too keen on accepting such a request. Elena cleared her throat, waving Luiza goodbye as she disappeared into the chapel. The two standing in silence, neither of them sure how to break that odd dense quiet. Elena then turns to Carmilla, her face unreadable. 

“Lets go, I’m in need of some warm tea,” She said, her head bowed slightly as she made her way back to town. Carmilla did the same without a word, looking back momentarily to glare at the steeple. 

Elena had gained a few steps ahead of her once she looked ahead again. She then stopped, a burning question at her tongue. 

“Who do they worship?” 

Elena froze, her back tensing before slowly turning to her. Carmilla raised a brow, finding her reaction incredulous. 

“The high-priestess, she looks over us with great love.” Elena said, though her words felt practiced. The mention of someone with such an influence piqued Carmilla’s curiosity. She looked behind her, seeing the daunting castle in the distance. Perhaps to whoever resided in that castle was the one they called the High-Priestess. But how could she know, hiding away in the forest for more than a decade could really mess with someones sense of reality. 

“Does she run the place?” Carmilla asked, now stepping back in pace with Elena. They went on their way back to the heart of town, the sun high and bright. 

“In more ways yes, she’s always regal in her faith.” 

Carmilla bit her lip in thought, looking up to the scarce clouds in the sky. How did she manage to stay so ignorant of this village after being so close to it for so long? 

On top of that, she was tied to this place. No matter how many times she’s tried to leave she couldn’t. The boundaries along this valley were dense with blocked ravines, and a treacherous trail that lead to nowhere. She was trapped, alongside everyone who lived here for generations. The only way out of here being through an aircraft. So the fact that she haven’t even heard of this High-Priestess was alarming. Surely she’d run into snippets of information over the years, but every time she venture too close to the village, she’d be driven out. 

“How long has she had that title?” Carmilla looked to the path, seeing the statue that stood proudly in the center of town. 

“For as long as this village stood I believe.” 

That couldn’t be right, this village was nearly a century old, maybe older if Carmilla really thought about it. She moved to Romania with her mother when she was eleven years old, her father having just died that same year from some freak accident. Since then, she’s grown up in a nearby village with her mother. Her memory may have been a hazy mess, but she knew without a doubt that no one could have lived for as long as she has. Unless they were just like her. The possibilities of that were unknown to her.

The evidence of Lycan’s existing were a clear sign of some other existence of the unknown, her included. So would it really be that shocking for there to be some Higher Power older than her?

Carmilla nodded her head, taking that information in like a sponge. Her knowledge on this village now feeling like a pea compared to a boulder.

Elena wrung her fingers as they continued on, the sound of commotion growing louder as they approached the village center.

“You hear that?” Carmilla said, her voice weary. Her greens eyes scanning the alleys and streets. Elena picked up on her sudden alertness.

“Hear what?” Elena looked confused, looking around as well. Carmilla sucked in a breath as the smell of blood wafted into her sense. It was coming in the direction of the market. She turned her head to Elena, grabbing her arm and dragging her forward.

“Hey! What’s going on!” Elena proclaimed, tugging back, but it didn’t faze Carmilla as she rushed onward. The closer they got, the more evident it became of a conflict. People crowded around, each one watching on with pale faces of horror, or some with fascination. Carmilla stopped at the edge of the horde, peeking over heads to try and get a look to what was happening. There were faint pieces of the scene she caught onto, but most of those just consisted of grunts and groaning. Or the sound of a fist hitting flesh. The scent of blood was stronger here, the irony perfume inducing the purr of violence in the back of Carmilla’s throat. Her limbs tingling with the need for action, and her teeth aching for something to rip through. She pursed her lips and took in a heavy breath to quell that hunger, her hand gripping Elena’s arm tightening.

“Carmilla…” Elena said, her voice low and full of concern.