sure.
Everything was cast in shades of grey by the bone-white radiance from the sky. The snow stood out starkly against the deep shadows cast by the houses of the village. As the human silhouettes stumbled into the light, a shiver ran down my spine.
One of them stopped a few yards away from me, and turned its rotten visage toward mine. The milky eyes stared at me, twitching in their decaying sockets for a long moment. My breath froze in my chest as I was pinned to the ground by that hideous gaze.
Then, the corpse turned away, and shuffled onward.
I expelled the breath I'd been holding in a rush, even as confusion filled my mind. Why weren't they attacking me?
"Because I told them not to," a voice whispered behind me.
My heart threatened to stop dead in my chest as I turned to behold the Reaper.
The terror that gripped me immediately lessened as the full image entered my mind. The towering, shadowy form of the Reaper had turned strangely translucent. Through the outer shell I could see a man, perhaps a bit shorter than I, with a shock of brown hair. His flesh was pale and sallow, beaded with sweat though the night was cold. The left side of his head was completely ruined, caved in by some impact. It had turned to scars now, but it left him with a grotesque appearance, one that made my stomach clench in response.
The Reaper was flanked on both sides by four figures. Three were thin, pale forms that stared at me with dark, blank gazes; vacant stares which showed no sign of life. I did not recognize their alabaster faces.
The fourth was Alina.
Crimson light glittered from what had once been her deep blue eyes, and a lance of pain went through my heart like nothing I had ever felt before. It was only by the barest margin that I managed to keep myself from crying out in anguish. At the same moment, the stabbing pain came again at the back of my neck, very nearly ripping a different cry from my throat.
They made no move toward me, but simply stood perfectly still, staring at me with blank expressions.
"You have no business here," the man with the ruined face, the Reaper, said. "This village belongs to me."
As my eyes jumped from one face to the next, the family resemblance between the stony faces of the dead children, the crimson eyes which had once belonged to Alina, and the strange man slowly resolved in my mind.
"You're… Ramun," I whispered. "Alina's husband."
He nodded sharply, staring at me with his good eye, like I might have regarded an insectoid test subject in my lab. "As you can see," he said, his voice a hollow rasp, "I have reunited my family at last. I spared your life because you brought my Alina to me. I am grateful. Now we can be a family again."
I stared at Ramun, aghast. "What?"
As he returned my gaze, I could see insanity burning brightly behind his eye. "We are reunited at last. Now, I will have my revenge, and all will be returned to normal."
"Your… revenge?" I asked. The terror glamour was still working on me, rendering it difficult to think. My brain latched onto the words of the spell that I'd written, using it as an anchor to keep me from being swept away by the fear. "What revenge?"
Ramun lashed out one hand, but not at me. The faded image of the Reaper pointed one tentacle-like root simultaneously, and I followed it to where it indicated.
The house of Palis the smith.
My jaw worked frantically as I tried to come up with something to say that wasn't my deadly incantation. "Palis? What does he have to do with anything?"
He looked down, and then fixed me once more with a baleful glare from his remaining eye. "He did this to me!" Ramun snarled, pointing at his ruined face. "After what I discovered his worthless son doing to my daughters…"
The impossibly-pale faces of the twin girls, no more than twelve, stared at me impassively… yet somehow, I could still feel the judgment behind their crimson eyes. My stomach twisted, and my heart felt sick.
"I took them first," Ramun went on in
Everything was cast in shades of grey by the bone-white radiance from the sky. The snow stood out starkly against the deep shadows cast by the houses of the village. As the human silhouettes stumbled into the light, a shiver ran down my spine.
One of them stopped a few yards away from me, and turned its rotten visage toward mine. The milky eyes stared at me, twitching in their decaying sockets for a long moment. My breath froze in my chest as I was pinned to the ground by that hideous gaze.
Then, the corpse turned away, and shuffled onward.
I expelled the breath I'd been holding in a rush, even as confusion filled my mind. Why weren't they attacking me?
"Because I told them not to," a voice whispered behind me.
My heart threatened to stop dead in my chest as I turned to behold the Reaper.
The terror that gripped me immediately lessened as the full image entered my mind. The towering, shadowy form of the Reaper had turned strangely translucent. Through the outer shell I could see a man, perhaps a bit shorter than I, with a shock of brown hair. His flesh was pale and sallow, beaded with sweat though the night was cold. The left side of his head was completely ruined, caved in by some impact. It had turned to scars now, but it left him with a grotesque appearance, one that made my stomach clench in response.
The Reaper was flanked on both sides by four figures. Three were thin, pale forms that stared at me with dark, blank gazes; vacant stares which showed no sign of life. I did not recognize their alabaster faces.
The fourth was Alina.
Crimson light glittered from what had once been her deep blue eyes, and a lance of pain went through my heart like nothing I had ever felt before. It was only by the barest margin that I managed to keep myself from crying out in anguish. At the same moment, the stabbing pain came again at the back of my neck, very nearly ripping a different cry from my throat.
They made no move toward me, but simply stood perfectly still, staring at me with blank expressions.
"You have no business here," the man with the ruined face, the Reaper, said. "This village belongs to me."
As my eyes jumped from one face to the next, the family resemblance between the stony faces of the dead children, the crimson eyes which had once belonged to Alina, and the strange man slowly resolved in my mind.
"You're… Ramun," I whispered. "Alina's husband."
He nodded sharply, staring at me with his good eye, like I might have regarded an insectoid test subject in my lab. "As you can see," he said, his voice a hollow rasp, "I have reunited my family at last. I spared your life because you brought my Alina to me. I am grateful. Now we can be a family again."
I stared at Ramun, aghast. "What?"
As he returned my gaze, I could see insanity burning brightly behind his eye. "We are reunited at last. Now, I will have my revenge, and all will be returned to normal."
"Your… revenge?" I asked. The terror glamour was still working on me, rendering it difficult to think. My brain latched onto the words of the spell that I'd written, using it as an anchor to keep me from being swept away by the fear. "What revenge?"
Ramun lashed out one hand, but not at me. The faded image of the Reaper pointed one tentacle-like root simultaneously, and I followed it to where it indicated.
The house of Palis the smith.
My jaw worked frantically as I tried to come up with something to say that wasn't my deadly incantation. "Palis? What does he have to do with anything?"
He looked down, and then fixed me once more with a baleful glare from his remaining eye. "He did this to me!" Ramun snarled, pointing at his ruined face. "After what I discovered his worthless son doing to my daughters…"
The impossibly-pale faces of the twin girls, no more than twelve, stared at me impassively… yet somehow, I could still feel the judgment behind their crimson eyes. My stomach twisted, and my heart felt sick.
"I took them first," Ramun went on in
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