Page 61 of Tethered In Blood

Oberon tilted his head, examining the markings. “Protection from what?”

The lord hesitated.

My pulse thrummed, each beat pounding in my ears. I forced myself to focus on the candlelight as it flickered across Lord Everette’s face, deepening the weary lines etched into his skin. Shadows stretched behind him, reaching toward the corners of the room.

“From whatever lurks in the fields,” he said, his voice lowered. “Whatever has cursed our crops and driven away our animals. Some believe it to be the work of the Fae. Others…” He trailed off, stroking his beard, his gaze shifting toward the darkened windows.

“Others?” I prompted.

The lord exhaled, his fingers tapping a slow, measured rhythm against the wooden banister. “There are rumors- whispers from travelers who claim to have seen figures in the mist. A sickness that does not behave like any ordinary plague. People waking in the night, standing outside their homes, staring at the fields, without remembering how they got there. It’s as if something called for them.”

The room felt smaller and the candlelight dimmer. Beside me, Oberon shifted his posture just enough for me to notice and sense the tension coiling in his shoulders.

I swallowed hard. “Have there been any deaths?”

Lord Everette’s gaze fell. The silence before his reply carried a weighty dread. Then he nodded. “Two. Both young men had strayed too far into the fields. When we found them, their eyes looked… unsettling.”

“Wrong, how?” I asked, bracing for the reply. Lord Everette hesitated again, carefully choosing his words as if voicing them might imbue them with power.

Oberon took a step forward. “What did their eyes look like?”

The lord’s gaze shifted between us, contemplating whether to speak. At last, he murmured, “They were black. Completely. As if the night had engulfed them.”

A shiver crept down my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.Breathe. Think.“Why are there no candles or torches lit throughout the village?”

Lord Everette studied me before responding. “The people of Vaelwick are… cautious,” he explained. “They keep their lights dim at night to avoid attracting unwanted attention.”

Unwanted attention.

My fingers curled into the bandages on my palm, the rough fabric grounding me before I dug my nails into my skin. The place felt wrong. It seeped into the walls, slithered between the floorboards, and coiled around my ankles like the mist in Silverfel, making me believe I wasn’t alone, even when I was.

“And the healers you sent for?” Oberon asked.

Lord Everette pursed his lips and rubbed his temples. “The last one arrived a week ago,” he admitted. “He left the same night.”

I frowned. “Why?”

He glanced at me, then looked away, as if still hesitant to meet my gaze. “He claimed to have seen something outside his window.”

The crackling fire in the hearth was the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

“Did he say what?” I pressed.

Lord Everette’s mouth tightened, and the look in his eyes showed regret for having said so much. Something had frightened that healer enough to flee in the middle of the night. “He wouldn’t speak of it,” he murmured.

My stomach churned.

Oberon narrowed his gaze as though considering his next words. “What about the animals?”

I blinked, glancing at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the lord.

“Gone,” the Lord admitted. “At first, we thought thieves had taken them. Yet, no tracks existed—no sign of a struggle, no broken gates. They vanished. One by one.”

“How long ago?” I asked.

“The first few went missing over a month ago. Then, it became more frequent. By the time the sickness reached the crops, none were left.” His fingers drummed against the banister, restless. “Even the dogs disappeared. The ones that remained…” He hesitated.

My brows furrowed. “What?”

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