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Our return from Stormhaven is, initially, largely uneventful. Overcast skies, gentle wind, but neither storm nor beast hinder our journey. When we set out, Maryse requested we take an alternative route; slightly longer, but we would be able to pick up some supplies in the Shales that would help. It adds little length to our journey, so Lady Suncrest agreed.
The Shales are, I believe, an ancient lakebed, judging from the silty soil and traces of clay. Dotted with temporary shelters throughout the region, the closest thing it has to actual civilization is Digger's Ditch, a... charming little almost-hamlet.
Alright, it's a hole. Not in a literal sense, but the miners had it right when they named it. Ramshackle construction that serves only to keep the rain mostly out, with not even a true public house, merely a technically-sheltered platform and a plankway for the drunks to stagger in a homeward direction after their nightly revelry. I do not wish to sound scornful of hard work, but life here would be unbearable for me. They endure for their periodic electrum finds, and their gems, crystals, and other assorted metals fund the hunt.
Maryse is immediately recognized when we step into the trading post. The man minding the store rushes to her, pleading, "Good witch, you must help us. There is a horror stalking Fogwell, it... it's a fiend. It took Karl just two nights ago. Please, before anyone else dies!"
"A bloodfiend?" Maryse asks. The man nods in mute terror. "Then we must." Maryse looks back and sees Lady Suncrest nodding her agreement. Returning her gaze to the shopkeep, she asks, "When do you see him?"
"In the twilight hours. It- I think it's scouting. Then in the night-"
"Be at ease, Conrad. This shall be over by morninglight," Maryse says. It's a comforting side that I didn't expect from Lady Suncrest's stories, but... I know the story, at least so far as the broad strokes. Lady Suncrest is reluctant to speak of it in detail, and I've my doubts that Maryse will prove any different.
Lucinda's face was difficult to read until mention of the bloodfiend, when she was taken by a visible sadness. Before, I think she was trying to stay resolute for our upcoming hunt, but she knows the risk of turning and I do not believe she wanted to face it so directly, so soon. She voices no objection, but I know not whether it's because she is firm in accepting what's needed, or if only because she does not want to trouble Lady Suncrest.
Maryse purchases additional lamp oil, and as she places the sealed container in her pack, I see another yet-sealed container. Is she preparing for a longer hunt, or did she have another motive? The party has already stepped out the door when I realize I'm lost in my thoughts, and I hurry to join them. We step out to the edge of "town", and Maryse asks of us, "What do you know of Fogwell?"
"Naught but the name," Lucinda admits.
"Lovely camping ground," Lady Suncrest says. Maryse raises an eyebrow, and she adds, "This is no jest. A quiet, misty night is wonderful for clearing the mind. I- We came out here regularly-" Her words catch briefly in her throat. "... Before." Maryse's reaction is hard to read, but I think I see guilt.
"I hear tell it's the origin of all fog," I offer. "That monsters never seen by man or beast stalk the gloom. Superstitious prattle and scarce more, really. It is a forest like any other, if wetter than the norm."
"I'd be careful what I call 'superstitious prattle', girl," Maryse warns. "There's fae hands everywhere in this land. They may interpret that as a challenge."
I think back to the involuntary beekeeper and begrudgingly nod agreement. A thought I will simply keep to myself, then. "The mist would complicate firelight, but that should be no trouble for our covered lanterns," I say.
"Indeed... but we can use that," Maryse half-thinks, half-speaks. "Come then. I have a plan."
"Are you going to tell us?" I ask.
"No more than I have to. If you know what's happening, you may give it away. Bloodfiends have only the base desires of beasts, but they still retain some cunning. A long-lived fiend's instincts are incredibly sharp."
I look to Lady Suncrest, who nods silently. We'll do this Maryse's way, then.
---
At dusk, we make sure to be seen carrying tools back and forth along the road, from building to building. The same tools each way, not for work but to look like workers. A beast that knows it is being hunted will be far more cautious. After shuttling the picks and shovels back and forth several times, Lucinda speaks up. "I think it's about time to turn in, don't you?"
"Mm. Quite a trek home, though, we'll have to set up camp nearby," Maryse replies. We hadn't worked out an actual code, but this was a signal from Lucinda that the fiend has seen us and returned to the trees.
We retrieve enough supplies to make a believable camp in the wood and set out immediately. Enough food for the night, bedrolls, and tents. Maryse leaves her sword behind, as does Lady Suncrest, with Maryse concealing a shortsword in her coat and Lady Suncrest setting a knife in her belt. I follow my teacher's lead, if only because a dagger is all I have. Lucinda elects to continue carrying a shovel and pick, to keep our disguise going. I briefly consider pointing out how she's not dressed to be a worker, but I suspect it matters little to a bloodfiend.
Soon after entering Fogwell, the expected mist sets in, reducing visibility significantly. Maryse leads us to a small clearing with remarkable ease, one that I think she has used before. For camp, or for hunts, that I know not. Maryse fights to get a fire going, yet for all the struggle she shows, there's scarcely a muttering of annoyance; an act, then. She could set a bonfire out here, I'm certain, if only she wanted to. We spend half an hour there; Lucinda and Lady Suncrest entertain themselves with a discussion and a quilt round their shoulders together. I pay them little mind, more focused on silently observing Maryse's technique. She's using enough dry material to spark, and enough wet material to smother, time after time, as though a city-born fool unprepared for one night on the road. Her efforts produce a prodigious amount of smoke for how little light they offer. "Some hunt by smell," she tells me, "Smoke can draw them. Some hunt by sight. Light can draw them. And their chatter covers the ones that hunt by sound, though we know that's not why they're talking. If the fiend thinks they've found people ill-equipped for survival, they should think us an easy meal."
She then reaches for more material, and I immediately recognize what's coming. Dry material and nothing but, to get it started. She makes quite an impressive fire for the conditions, and allows it to burn for a time, before throwing wet leaves and greenwood upon it to choke the fire one last time.
And then we hear it. The rustling of leaves, clatter of branches. We've drawn our target out. The snap of a fallen treelimb draws our attention behind us, and the creature that emerges... well, he's well-disguised. Skin the color of rotting wood, with the visual texture to match and sunken eyes like those of a blinded serpent. He wears surprisingly well-kept pants, though no sign of even a scrap of shirt. The few scraggly scraps of tightly curly, dark brown hair that remain atop his head have slender, leafed branches hanging haphazardly from them - a last thought of accessorizing, or simply dragged along in his haste? And that question highlights the tragedy. What he is... he was human, once, but what he is now is a sorrowful mockery of that, possessed of naught but vestigial imitations of long-forgotten civilization.
At first, he looks for all of us like the ravening beast we expect. But then his eyes meet Lady Suncrest's, and there is an utter stillness in the air.
Lady Suncrest breaks the silence finally, with but a whisper "... Vincent?"
"f'rgvn," is the sound that escapes his lips. It would be dismissed as just a wordless grunt, but... there is something here. "Llllvv. stommi." More non-words, but I know there is meaning intended.
"I'm so sorry," Lady Suncrest cries. Between her reaction and Maryse's shamed attempts to shrink into the shadows, I know what happened here. Yet still, I remain on guard - now more than ever, because Lady Suncrest clearly is not.
"llls'fgn," he groans. so sorry, lls- wait! "All's forgiven," I whisper. He lurches, very briefly, in my direction - is he saying I'm right?
"What do I do, I'm so sorry," Lady Suncrest sobs, falling to her knees.
"stommi," he repeats. "stommi"
"... stop me." I don't know if I whisper the words, scream them, or fail to say them at all, but I know-
"I- I can't!" Lady Suncrest hoarsely pleads.
"ockit..." he groans. He wobbles in place for a time, his breathing accelerating, before lunging for her when the hunger took over.
I leap into action, grabbing him from behind and sinking my dagger into his neck. His teeth did not find purchase on my mentor, and his death is merciful. As his blood spatters upon Lady Suncrest, I hear a scream from the woods behind.
"VINCENT!" a red-haired woman shrieks, rushing toward us as I sheathe my dagger. "No! I- I was going to save him!" she cries.
"You couldn't. No one could," Lucinda offers sadly, holding Lady Suncrest in her arms.
"And how would you know?" she demands. She steps closer, and her furious eyes meet Lucinda's sorrowful gaze. No words are exchanged, yet countless stories are told in that moment. "... oh, oh I see." Anger, not the reaction I wanted. "You must be her new toy. Enjoy it while it lasts, girl, because she's going to throw you to the wolves eventually. Isn't that right, Glimmergold?!"
"... I deserve that," Maryse chokes out. The red-haired intruder blinks in stunned silence at that, before Lucinda speaks up again.
"She would never," Lucinda says defiantly.
"Oh, she's done it before. Use 'em and leave 'em. Once her pretty blonde friend says we need to go, that's it, thanks for all the fun-"
"Enough." The word leaves my mouth before I realize I'm speaking it. "You'll not speak so of Lady Suncrest in my presence."
"And what do you think you can do about that, child?" she sneers.
"I have killed a vampire today, Alesia," I say. She seems shocked I know her name. She must have expected Lady Suncrest not to speak of their past. "You have seen it. Do not test me, lest that become two."
"The audacity," she scoffs, incredulous. "You think I would go down so easily as that?"
I see an opportunity. She blames us, but I think... "What is it that makes you different, then? Beast, hunter, vampire, I've scarcely known any predators to be unalike."
"I still have my mind and-" she chokes off the rest of that sentence, bowing her head and sobbing quietly.
"And you know he could not be saved," I finish gently.
"I had... I had hoped he wouldn't be so far gone." The words tumble gracelessly from her mouth, a sorrowful stream of thought. "He deserved better." Anger creeps in again. "He deserved better from both of you!" she reiterates, clearly speaking of Lady Suncrest and Maryse, before returning to her quiet crying.
It clicks. I know what he was saying. "Forgiven, pocket," I say, rushing to Vincent and reaching into his pockets.
"How dare you-!" Alesia scowls.
"Stow it. He was trying to say something when he found us and-" I feel something square, rigid. I pull it from the pocket to see a small metal box, inside which is, "A letter," I say, opening it.
"Let me." Alesia demands.
I refuse. "No. I will read it aloud, for everyone to hear. That will have to suffice for each of you."
My dear love,
I know I am in decline. I hope to find a way through, but if I fail, I need you to know this.
I love you even still, starlight. You should have spoken more for me, yes, but I should have given you a chance as well. Now, I face a dark end, alone for our shared mistakes and regrets.
Memories of you, of us, were all that kept me going these last few years. They were the one light in my life when all others were snuffed out.
I never hurt you and I never would. I suspect by now your friend realizes that. I hope you can teach her to grant us the same mercy you did. I believe you can, I believe you will.
I wish dearly that we could be together again. I know you have changed, that you are not physically the same person I fell in love with, but I know the same heart still beats in your chest.
If I have passed by venator's blade, I pray this finds its way to you.
If I have passed by your own hand, I pray you will forgive me for it.
With sorrowful regret, with joyful memory, in love, in life, and in death,
Ever yours,
V.
The tears flow freely here. For Maryse, from her regrets. For Alesia, from her failure to save him, doomed though the effort was. For Lady Suncrest... from so many things. The letter moves me as well, but I must retain my clarity.
"what do i do," Lady Suncrest whimpers, still leaning on Lucinda's shoulder.
"A-" Maryse hesitates, and the glare in Alesia's eye doesn't encourage her. "A proper burial. I would..." Her head bows and her shame is unmistakable in her voice, "I would give him in death the respect that I should have in life." Alesia's glare softens some, but she visibly does not trust Maryse. I understand why, but I believe her regret is genuine.
For lack of better options, we place his body within a bedroll and return to Digger's Ditch. Upon arrival, we see the typical nightly gathering at the plankway, and the ersatz barkeep is the only one sober. Per local tradition, whoever had the best haul serves the drinks. He's an older man, wrinkled and grey but still in good condition; he'd have to be to still mine successfully. "I can't believe I have to say this, but what or who is in the bag?" he scowls, looking over our group.
It's best I lead, under the circumstances. "The bloodfiend you lot were afraid of," I reply. "We wish to give him a proper burial, in memory of his former life."
There's a pause in the conversation, and even the drunk miners go silent. "You... one of you knew him?"
"One of us, yes," I lie.
"Alright, we'll help you with that in the morning," he offers, hesitantly but sincerely. "For now, for you lot, it's on the house," he offers, holding an empty stein. Lady Suncrest doesn't drink even at the best of times. I know not Maryse or Alesia's habits, but right now? No.
"That's a generous offer, but we've had a difficult day and must get an early rest," I reply.
"Fair. Tell you what, we'll just hold on to that one for you. Now it ain't the prettiest, but we do have a guest house here," he says, stepping around the crude counter and gesturing for us to follow.
To call it a hovel would be generous, but it's shelter and we'll take it. I fall asleep quickly, and know not when the others followed suit.
---
The next morning, we're greeted by several of the local miners. "Heard you needed a hole dug," one of them says.
"Yes," Lady Suncrest says. "It's- it's for-"
"Yeah. We know. I ain't thrilled none with it, but I'm not one to disrespect the dead, 'specially when they were just-" The look in Lady Suncrest's eye is a curious mix of sorrow and fury, and the miner realizes he'd best watch his step. "Well, when it weren't really his fault." His course correction is deemed acceptable, and most of us set out to the edge of Fogwell. One of the miners turns back to town, but I think little of it.
The team of miners digs the grave even faster than expected, taking only about three hours, and they then stand off to the side for us to say our goodbyes. Lady Suncrest goes first, with Lucinda by her side. She kneels down at the edge of the grave and whispers, but I cannot hear the words. Alesia follows, and then Maryse, who I am able to hear: "I may never be forgiven for what I did to you, and I should not be. I am so sorry."
I'm the last one. I kneel down next to the grave, and in the daylight I'm struck by how human he looks, and how inhuman he looks, and how these aspects connect to make something deeply, viscerally wrong. Flesh decayed, but as wood rather than flesh. I remember a portrait Lady Suncrest showed me, he was dark-skinned in life as well, but there was a warmth to the color that's long gone. Eyes once bright, now discolored and deformed. Teeth, sharp and crooked. All the expected aspects of a human are there, they're just not what they should be. "It must have been a terrifying fate. Lady Suncrest told me about you, and I wish we could have met. We got your letter. I'll keep her safe, I promise."
I step away, and Lady Suncrest nods to the miners, who silently get to work filling the grave. The one that returned to town walks up pushing a cart, which bears a simple headstone. "I'm sorry, madam, that this was all we could do for you."
"It is more than I could have asked for," she sniffs. "Thank you dearly."
Alesia says something to Lady Suncrest, something brief. Not harsh, but not conciliatory either. She then leaves without a second look.
It is some two or three hours before we're able to set out for the rest of the return trip, yet longer still before anyone is willing to speak. It will be a quiet camp tonight, then.
