Rhen
By some stroke of luck, the wet snowfall had been enough to keep the raging fire contained within the residential area of the village. Burning through every house it passed, practically nothing was left in its wake besides ashes and charred wood. It had been a devastating sight, many homes filled with so much love and joy now reduced to cinder. The villagers watched helplessly as it wiped their lives out in a matter of minutes, completely at the mercy of this living nightmare.
With Phyre’s help, slaughtered the remaining hounds that stalked Oread. Any that weren’t lying dead in the streets had disappeared from view, licking their wounds. But there was no triumphant celebration emanating from the crowd; instead, only the hushed whispers of frightened fey and human families.
My knees wobbled as I strolled toward the mass of petrified villagers. Phyre looked up at me and gave a slight nod in recognition while attempting to bring them some solace.
The fear emanating from the group was palpable. I couldn’t blame them at all. This nightmare had come out of nowhere and, for a moment there, it seemed like the end. But it had only just begun.
Phyre held her hand up and yelled over the crowd. “I need a head count! If everyone in your immediate household is accounted for, please move to the back of the crowd. If you have any family members missing, have one person from each home step forward.”
The villagers moved in a concerted wave, like a herd of animals. Mothers who were carrying young children on their hips quickly went to the back of the crowd. Nearly twenty men and some women who were near hysteria, all homed in on Phyre.
“Please,” one of the feyrie women cried. Her red-rimmed eyes swelled from exhaustion. “My son. He was right there. He was right there! Please!”
Phyre nodded, her scarlet ringlets shining in the dim light and falling over her face. It was a gesture meant to convey her understanding. She reached out with a gentle hand and clasped the belligerent mother’s fist between both of hers before patting it ever so slightly as a sign of reassurance. The other woman had looked so frightened to have lost sight of her child. I wondered if Mama wore that same broken expression wherever she was.
“Shh. It’s okay. We’ll find him,” Phyre assured her, a promise I wasn’t sure she could keep. The woman nodded and collapsed into a sobbing heap, her body shaking with every cry.
More and more people crowded around, each one voicing the name of a loved one that had been taken away. By the time they were done, thirteen children and twelve adults had been reported missing. It was an increasingly heartbreaking scene as family members embraced each other in sadness, unable to comprehend how such tragedy could befall so many innocent lives. Everyone wanted answers, but instead there was just silence and sorrow spreading among them like a dark cloud on an otherwise sunny day.
I felt helpless standing there while Phyre managed the situation, so I wandered back towards the burning mound of remains. It was almost a given that most of the twenty-five people missing would have been consumed in flames before they had any shot at escaping from their homes. A sickening wave of despair washed over me when I imagined all those lives being extinguished by such an unforgiving beast.
I felt a gripping fear as I approached the building, still smoldering after whatever disaster had recently occurred. The crunching sound of broken debris mixed with the slush beneath my feet made me anxious. My breathing became ragged, and a chill ran down my spine as if an unseen snake was slithering around inside me, slowly tightening its grip on my throat. All I wanted to do was turn around and run away, back to safety from what lay ahead of me, but something inside held me back.
When I picked up the scuffed brown hunting boot and leaned in for a closer look, something inside of me also cracked. The serpent seemed to coil around my neck, my chest, my soul and squeezed a scream from my body.
A partially round object, painted gray from the soot, caved in the shape of my foot. Even with all of my recent training, nothing had prepared me for that.
The boy.
I’d stepped on his crisp skull.
And shattered the only thing that remained of him.