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The day began with the Vile Mother and ended with the Vile Mother. Her wails woke the world, readying it for a new morning, and when it was time for rest, when the beasts would begin to roam, she would begin again, and the world would sleep.
Lidya never found any comfort in the goddess's mourning cries like the people in the Vile Church did. They spoke of her as their savior, a goddess of protection一deliberately ignoring the fact that the Vile Mother was the goddess of death and rebirth, not protection and love. She caused death as much as she renewed life, and those things were never equal when the Veil was open.
Nothing ever was when the beasts were involved.
"Lidya, are those flowers done yet?" Her mother's voice echoed up the stairs, ringing like wind chimes. "You need to have them at the graveyard before the bodies start being discovered, or all your hard work will go to waste."
"Yes!" She called back. It wasn't anywhere near perfect, the bouquet, but it was the thought that counted. No one ever visited the graves anymore because the stench was too much. "Just a few more daisies and a bow will do the trick!"
Lidya sighed and looked down at the glass vase. It really was some of her most horrible work. But she couldn't focus with the pain in her abdomen, pain that ate right through to her back, and it made her hands shake. It was why the flowers looked haphazard and slapdash in effort.
They called it the 'woman's disease' because men couldn't get it, or so the Vile Church healer said. It was a very painful, very violent affliction that could not be healed. She would likely never have children because of it, not that she minded that part of it; the pain had her squirming in her seat. It started off as being an uncomfortable pressure, like normal cramps, but steadily increased as time went by, until she could no longer see straight.
"I should probably go before it gets any worse," Lidya grumbled to herself. She tied a quick bow over the vase and got to her feet, running a hand over the braids at the side of her head. Three braids for an unspoken maiden. As an afterthought, she put a small bow at the end of one of them, just to liven her appearance. "I think that should do it..."
After slipping on her loafers and coat, she headed downstairs to find her mother humming over a large plate of meat. Fresh, bloody meat that could only have come from a boghog, which meant that the beasts were starting to come closer and closer to their village every day. There were the occasional lycans that plagued the area, but nothing as big as a boghog.
"Good morning. Where did all of this come from?" Lidya set the vase on a stool, hiding her work from her mother's searching eyes. "Not a boghog, I hope."
Her mother gave her a sad frown. "You would be right, my dear. It was found just earlier this morning, freshly killed by a hunter. It was close to the Vile Church, for some odd reason; probably the masses that attracted it."
"Right..." She rubbed her forehead. The pain was starting to turn into sharp, jabbing spears. "Well, I think I'll go and lay these flowers down before the bodies start coming in一"
"一and take your medicine before you do, young lady," her mother interrupted. Though her voice was stern, she could taste the concern in the air. "Your voice might not have given it away, but when you're in pain, your face starts turning bloody red, like it is now. Go take it."
Lidya reached up, mortified. "I do not. Do I?"
"Yes." The blonde woman pulled out a corked bottle from underneath the kitchen cupboards, the brown glass unable to stop the neon reflective liquid from peeking through. "Here. This is the newest batch, so it should be more potent."
"You know I hate taking it." She watched as the elder woman poured the thick, foul sludge into a small glass cup made for her father's alcohol. It even smelled horrible, just like it looked. "It makes me tired and sleepy."
Her mother eyed the bags under her eyes, then the crimson of her cheeks. "You could use some extra rest, dear. Sleep through the pain, like you used to."
The medicine still wasn't being taken. She rubbed the glass between her fingers, not quite frowning and not exactly cringing.
"Sleeping is a coward's way out. I've had this for ten years, I can go ten more with it." She slammed the sludge back with as much force as she could muster, holding her nose until she had swallowed every little goopy drop. Rough granules of what tasted like sugar ground between her teeth. "I need to get going. Say hello to Father for me if I'm not back by the time he arrives home."
Her father worked the nightly cleaning shift at the Vile Church. Where so much blood was spilled that it took the whole night to clean up, and then cover to hide the scent from the beast's sharp noses. Many people died there, if they didn't from the beasts, from the Beast Sickness, or a disease with no known cure. She thanked her lucky stars that her father hadn't contracted the Beast Sickness while working in such filth.
"Alright, but be careful," her mother warned. "There may still be beasts roaming around who haven't went back to the Veil."
It was entirely possible, but highly unlikely. Lidya had never seen a beast out in the daylight; they didn't like the sun very much, being nocturnal creatures.
"I will," she promised. "I'll be back before you know it."
The moment she opened the door, she was met with a horrid, gods awful smell that seemed to engulf the air around her and swallow it whole. Blood poured from the sky, like rain, and she felt a knot worsen in her belly. A Blood Storm.
"Oh, dear." Her mother tutted. She heard footsteps behind her, most likely the woman pulling an umbrella from the closet, and found her mother shoving a pair of waterproof leather boots in her hands. "Here, wear these. They'll keep your feet from being exposed to the blood. And... I have an umbrella around here somewhere..."
Lidya put her vase down carefully, holding the heavy boots in one hand. They were her father's spare work boots, clean as a whistle and as heavy as a cinderblock, and almost twice the size of her own tiny feet. She would be waddling around like a duck trying to get to the graveyard in those.
As she was sinking her foot into one, her mother reappeared with an umbrella and an overcoat made of the same material as the boots. "Here we are. Remember, don't splash the blood, don't make contact with it, and you'll be just fine."
Neither of them mentioned that she would get the Beast Sickness if she didn't.
"Thank you." She shrugged the coat on and zipped it all the way up, buttoning the buttons to keep it from popping open. It went all the way over the thigh high boots, a second layer of protection if she accidentally got splashed. "Is that all? I need to get going."
"Yes, yes," her mother said dismissively. "Get going. I'm going to dress this meat and put some of it in the storage. We may even make it through the winter with how much there is."
Lidya didn't have anything to say to that. Her little brother had died during the winter, just like all of the other young children that year, and if they had had this meat before, during that time... Suddenly, the pain in her abdomen wasn't so bad.
She snapped open the umbrella, lifting it over her head and ducking underneath the door to keep it in one piece. The blood smelled as sour and dirty as it always was, like rancid meat, or tea left out to mold. The dirt beneath her feet was always stained red because of the blood storms, and a lot of foreigners claimed they made a town on clay, as if they were idiots. If they knew the truth, they didn't show it.
"Morning, Lidya!" Their neighbor, Mrs. Kinney, waved at her through a screened window. Her vibrant green eyes seemed luminous against the blood raining from the sky, and she flashed her a smile. "Did you get some of that meat from the boghog?"
"We did," she assured the older woman. "There's enough to make us through winter, mother says."
Mrs. Kinney gave her a wan smile. She had also lost her son to the harsh winter, almost at the same time as her brother. She couldn't have any more children because of her age, and it was all the more heartbreaking because Lidya knew she had the woman's disease just like she did.
"That's good. On your way to the graveyard, then?" She eyed the flowers. "Say hello to my old man for me, will you?"
"Of course." Paying her respects to Willem was something she did without request; most of her childhood memories were of him sneaking penny sized licorish from the bakery window to her when Mrs. Kinney wasn't looking. He had a peaceful death, thank the gods, at the ripe old age of sixty, in his sleep. She wouldn't have wanted him to die any other way. "I'll make sure to say that you called him your 'old man'." She teased.
"He'd like that, wouldn't he?" Mrs. Kinney laughed. "Well, I won't hold you up, dear. The bodies are going to come in soon."
"Alright. Have a nice day, Mrs. Kinney!"
Lidya eventually made her way down the beaten path towards the graveyard. In an alleyway, close to the tavern, there was the body of a lycan. She froze. It was still, perhaps too still, and a closer look (a very reluctant one) revealed that it was decapitated. A messy, nasty line that sawed through most of its throat, leaving only a hint of flesh attached.
If she didn't feel sick before, she definitely did now.
"Gods, that's foul." Stepping out the back door was Derga, who conveniently wore her own waterproof boots right as she stepped on the body. "Who killed you here?" Then, realizing Lidya was there, frowned. "Are you okay, Lids? You look green."
"I'm fine," Lidya managed. "Um... Are you handling... that?"
"Well, I can't have my customers seeing this," Derga said wryly. "To the graveyard with you. You've seen enough of the beasts today."
That she had. Lidya gave the woman a quick nod and waddled off in her too big boots, towards the gravestones that she could see peeking over a metal fence. No one maintained it, so the gravestones were crumbling and old, but she managed to single out Willem's and her grandfather's just fine by the little markers she had put down.
"Good morning, Grandpa." She placed the vase beside the stone, adjusting the flowers so they wouldn't seem so horrible. "Your flowers don't look very good today. I'm sorry. I'm sure you still like daisies, though, right?"
The blood rain had ceased to a light drizzle, turning the white daisies red. Even the gravestones were tinted an unusual orange-red, not gray, from repeated exposure to the blood storms.
"I'd guess you'll have to like red ones this time." She sighed and blew a kiss to the grave, because she couldn't touch it like she wanted, and moved on to find Willem's. His was small, almost like one for a child, because Mrs. Kinney couldn't afford much else.
"Good morning, Mr. Willem. Mrs. Kinney sent me over today, bless her. I know she misses you and Badri," she said sincerely. Everyone knew she missed them like a flower would miss the sun. "She called you her 'old man' today. Isn't that funny? She's a bit old herself, too, but you aren't that old, are you, Mr. Willem? I'm sure you're as young as your mind used to be in the afterlife, though. I miss your licorish candies, too, you know. Mrs. Kinney can't make them like you could anymore."
The graveyard was silent, still, and she frowned sadly. She hadn't expected a reply, but there was something in the air... Something strange...
"There is no afterlife, girl."
Her stomach dropped to her feet. The voice was old, very old, and rough like sandpaper. It was deep enough that it petrified her, but aged to the point that it wasn't nearly as intimidating. It sounded tired, breathy, and she had to steel her nerves before she asked,"How do you know?"
"I'm old enough to know that the gods don't let people out of this world so easily," the voice replied. She could pinpoint that he was somewhere under the tree near her. "You either die and are reborn... or you die, and never come back."
"That's dumb." The words were out before she could stop them. "Why not have some hope for what comes after? You wouldn't have to die with such dreadful beliefs on your spirit, then."
"Hope? I'm surprised you even acknowledge it in these times." He took a breathy inhale, and she frowned; he sounded like he was having trouble breathing. "But you are young and naive. Perhaps I've spent too much time among the old and cynical."
Lidya turned around, looking for the man, and found him as she guessed: under a tree. But he held a long weapon in his hand, the blade curled upon a tree limb. He used it to keep himself upright as he spoke to her, but she could see the strain it was taking on him to do it.
She walked closer to him as she spoke. "I think the older you get, the less naive you are about the world. It makes sense." She reached a gravestone just a few feet away and stopped there, following the trail of golden and white blood with wide eyes. "What's your name, sir?"
"Isn't it rude to ask someone's name before offering your own?" He laughed. The scythe retracted and he leaned against the tree trunk. "No matter. I am Fenharrow. You would call me a godling, once upon a time."
"Oh." A godling. That explained the odd blood, then. "I'm Lidya. Fenharrow, like the tree?"
"Yes, Fenharrow一like the tree." He sighed, glancing down at something in his hand. When he did, she walked closer, closer, until she was standing over him and shielding him from the blood rain. She glanced down at the pocket watch in his hand, which hadn't moved from a few moments until midnight, then at his face. "What is it?"
"You're an old godling," Lidya stated. "Most godlings don't make it to thirty."
"You're right. They don't." Fenharrow still stared at the watch. His face, aged and lined, seemed to sink as he thought. He had a beard, like Willem, and long, mangy silver hair, like her grandpa. It was almost funny that he resembled them to some degree. "I'm an odd case, I must admit."
Deep within the shadows of the tree, a pair of eyes watched, before retreating back into the Void.
"I'm sure it was nice," Lidya mused,"living to your age as a godling."
"No, no," Fenharrow said breathily. "It was as horrible a thing as you could imagine."
The graveyard was silent again, except for his labored breathing, and the rain started to come down harder than before. Lidya knew when someone was dying一she had seen it too often to not know.
"Here." Fenharrow lifted his hand, offering her the pocketwatch, and then the other, holding a worn journal of dark leather. "Take these. I won't have much use for them anyways, where I'm going."
Lidya took them, cautiously, in one hand. "Are you sure? These are your things, and I'm a stranger. Shouldn't you give these to someone you care about?"
Fenharrow snorted. "Anyone I care about is dead or doesn't care enough to take it. At least let me pass, knowing that someone remembers me, even if the gods don't."
"Alright." She couldn't argue with that. The journal was warm in her hand, the pocketwatch too, and the rain pounded on as he got to his feet. "Wait, what are you doing?! You shouldn't strain yourself like that!"237Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY6tIniWzvU
Fenharrow was tall. Very tall, almost towering over to the first limb of the tree; he glared at her, sad eyes alight with some sort of realization, and huffed. "Get going, girl. There are beasts coming. I smell them on the air."
She hesitated. If she left, he would be dead before she came back. But he was already dying anyways, and maybe he wanted to die with some amount of honor. "But一"
"Go." Fenharrow ordered. She could hear the heavy, growling breath of the beast before she saw it. "Run, girl. Run."
Lidya took off as quickly as her clunky boots would allow her. She didn't turn back, even as the sounds of sickeningly wet metal tearing through flesh reached her ears, or his agonized scream echoed through the streets. He told her to go, and she would. It was the least she could do for him.
Tears streamed down her face as she waited almost two hours for the sounds to stop. She had hidden in the alleyway behind the tavern, the lycan body gone, and clutched the journal to her chest. The pocket watch was in her dress pocket, safe, and the rain had stopped some time ago.
The silence that stretched across the village when it was done was deafening. Her ears rung as she made her way, reluctantly, back to the graveyard, and the tree where she had left Fenharrow.
She saw the body of the lycan first, its teeth smeared with gold and white, then the handle of the scythe. She followed its length to see it buried in Fenharrow's chest, too precise to have been by the lycan. He had killed the beast, and then killed himself, as if he refused to die naturally.
"I'm sorry, Fenharrow," Lidya mumbled. "I only knew you for a few minutes... and yet you felt familiar to me. Like an old friend come again."
Her mother would be angry at her for being gone for so long. But she was determined to do something for Fenharrow, and dug his grave beneath a fenharrow tree, just on the outskirts of the graveyard so he wouldn't be piled down with corpses.
The fenharrow tree was a beautiful tree with white bark, red flowers, and shiny, blue-black leaves with velvety fuzz lining their tops. The grave was big enough by the time the Vile Mother's wing swept across the world once again, signaling noon, and she managed to bury him with some sort of ceremony一the Vile Church never had to know.
"Goodbye, Fenharrow," she sighed sadly. "I suppose I have someone else to visit on my rounds, hmm? I hope you went somewhere nice, or are being reborn... I'll make sure to remember you, regardless."
She put one of the fenharrow flowers on the disturbed ground, frowning at it, and then turned away. She had to get home. Her mother was probably going to have a fit, and her father would be angry with her for being out so late. But it was worth it... she had helped him, didn't she? Even in death.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Fenharrow. I'll bring you some flowers next time, how about that?"
Night descended on the village once again, and the Vile Mother wailed, but for once in her life, Lidya slept as peacefully as a babe, comforted by the knowledge that she had helped someone.
But come morning, everything would change.237Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuUSpTFxrwD
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