On Death's Honor

Chapter 3: Grayvers and Ancient Spells

I left Igna's body as it was, her eyes fixed on the horizon beyond. If she had been a properly mature nymph - or one that hadn't been tainted as she had been - roots and whatever wildflowers native to the woods would have already sprouted to cover and protect her.

But if I listened closely enough, I could hear the soft, distinct breathing of the woods; I could even feel the slight confusion pulsing beneath my feet as the living and spirit alike struggled to grasp what, exactly, Igna had been.

Nature's obvious hesitation to guard the precious body was just added proof that what Igna's mistress had done to her was very, very wrong.

So I left her behind as is, not even bothering to turn her so that her face would gaze upon the clear sky above as most ceremonies would have called for. Logically, it was the smartest thing to do - best to leave the blood of a cursed figure alone - but I couldn't help the shitty feeling stirring in my chest as I moved deeper and deeper within the fog.

You've done worse, before.

I didn't have much choice.

You always have a choice.

I wondered how long it would be before someone else hunted me down as I did Igna and succeed - if I'd even be free by that time, or killed just before.

"Do you know what you'd do with it?"

The voice was low and cutting, like a sharp breeze I could barely feel.

"Become a hermit," I replied without pause, not bothering to look over my shoulder. The voice behind me snickered.

"I do believe the proper word you're looking for is 'recluse'."

"You heard me correctly."

I ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, eying a small rodent black fur glaring down at me with piercing purple eyes.

"You would dedicate your freedom to the gods?"

"I'd dedicate my freedom to cursing the gods."

"Don't you do that already?"

"No. I'm not free."

"I don't see any chains."

I grunted as my unwanted companion snickered once more.

No, not unless I deny a contract.

"Why are you here, Bogdan?" I stopped, taking a moment to glance around my surroundings without looking directly behind me.

My companion released a mocking tut-tutting sound with his tongue.

"Won't you face me, Songbird?"

Bogdan was an annoying, pesky spirit - a wayguard, bounded to me by the very council that controlled my life just enough to make things difficult.

I shook my head, continuing my pace with an added weight to my steps.

"I don't have time for this."

Just then, a creature darted in front of me from the side, leaping out from the shadows and fog like a hellhound sent loose. Streaks of white and gray ran down its massive, bulky sides, while its snout - which was wrinkled in a vicious snarl, revealing glistening yellowed teeth longer than my middle finger - contained ominous reddish-orange markings of symbols I'd only ever seen in one other place.

It barked, fixing its set of gleaming white eyes on me.

How'd a grayver get all the way out here?

"Oh, fu-" I muttered, barely having the time to pull my cloak around myself when the beast lunged at me. I stumbled upon contact, holding back a startled yelp when it locked its jaw around my arm. Thankfully, my cloak was made of schetten, a rare, flexible silk-like material that could withstand most tears and abrasions the world threw at it. It was as expensive as hell, but entirely worth it when one dealt in my line of work.