The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1665: The Dark Wood

At the western edge of the world, nestled in the shadow of the Great Shield Mountains, a dark forest spread, unbroken, across hundreds of leagues. Seen from the slopes of the mountains, the forest was covered with snow, but here, beneath the mighty boughs of the ancient trees, snow only appeared on the forest floor in the gaps where rivers and creeks ran, or ponds and lakes created breaks in the dense tree cover.

Even on the clearest of nights, no stars could be seen from within the forest’s gloom, nor even the light of a bright full moon.

The cities that clustered along the banks of rivers and lakes glowed like jewels in the night, illuminated by thousands of candles and lamps shining out into the dark, but here, beyond the Still Heart’s outermost wall, there was no light at all save for a flickering, iridescent pool of light cast by Answaen’s horn and the pale purple shadow that trailed behind her.

Frost spread from her feet with every step she took, and her footsteps echoed with a soft -THUMP- each time she trod on the freshly frozen ground. The scent of damp, rotting wood filled the air along with the rustle of birds and bats who had come to see what dared disturb their rest on the longest night of the year.

Behind her, Naaric moved at a less graceful pace, struggling under the weight of a large pine box wrapped with thick iron chains. The purple-horned Frostwalker dared not complain as he followed in the wake of the Immortal ancestor who had sent him halfway across the continent to retrieve information.

Already, he’d received a promise of a great favor for returning with the box he carried across his shoulders along with his contents. Now, he only needed to endure a little bit longer to receive his reward. A mistake at this stage, however, could cost him the lives of his loved ones, so he said not a word and asked no questions even as he marveled at the strangeness and the stillness of the forest around them.

Every thousand paces or so, Naaric spotted strange arch-shaped buildings that rose more than two hundred feet in the air. The arches were still dwarfed by the trees that surrounded them, but hanging from each arch, like a basket carried for a picnic, was a building the size of a cottage, illuminated by a soft glow from within. There were no stairs nor ladders to reach the cottage, but each one was surrounded by a railing just beneath the eaves, along with a doorway that opened into the empty air.

Stranger than the hanging-basket buildings were the droplet-shaped structures that hung suspended from the thick branches of the towering trees. Some formed into clusters secured with ropes and vines, while others hung in neat rows like fruit on a vine. All of them featured the same round wooden door at the base of the droplet, and the walls, whatever fiber they were made of, were thin enough that light seeped out from within.

But all of these strange sights were like ghosts in the darkness, seen in the distance for a handful of breaths before the thick trunks of trees blocked them once again from view.

"We’re almost there," Answaen said as they stepped onto a narrow footbridge over a wide, burbling stream. The water of the stream froze beneath her as she walked, forming a dam of ice two paces wide and stretching all the way down to the bed of the stream.

"When we arrive," the Immortal Ancestor continued, ignoring the effect her presence had on the environment around her. "You are to wait for me outside my Master’s home. You may rest and eat as you wish, but you may not enter, and you may not leave."

"I, I understand, Honored Ancestor," he said, dipping his horn so low that he could only see a few steps ahead as he hurried across the bridge before water could begin to overflow the ice-dam.

"The people here are my Master’s most trusted servants," she said as they approached a towering wall of stacked stones more than a hundred feet high. "You may speak to them if you wish, but you may not follow them away. What hospitality they offer, you must pay to accept. This is not a place you wish to owe a debt, no matter how small."

"Yes, Honored Ancestor," Narric said, ducking his head once again.

"You’ve proven useful to me, Naaric," Answaen said as she waited for the iron-bound wooden door in the stone wall to open before her. "It would disappoint me to lose you here over something foolish."

Answaen said nothing further as the heavy door groaned open, revealing a bearish man who would have been considered beautiful by those who could appreciate his sleek, black fur, rounded ears, and warm, chocolaty eyes. His muscles were firm and toned, trained in a balanced perfection that was neither bulky nor wiry, and the fine brocade sleeveless tunic-dress that he wore belted at the waist revealed not only his muscular arms, but the toned, trim legs that looked as strong as the trees that surrounded them.

"Master awaits you within his home," the bearish man said, bowing low to the ancient vampire and the attendant who followed her. "I can show your man a place to rest and take your luggage if you wish," he added smoothly as his gaze shifted to the pine box wrapped in chains.

The doorman asked no questions about the contents of the box; his placid gaze swept over it the same way he’d regard a knapsack of clothing or a chest of jewels. Anything that was important enough to be carried within the inner walls couldn’t be less important than a chest filled with gold, but the doorman knew well enough that nothing valuable that interested his master was safe to covet or even inquire about.

"Naaric will follow me to Master’s home and then remain outside," Answaen said calmly as she strode through the door. "He’s not to be troubled or taken away," she added with a pointed look at the doorman that froze him in place.

Then, without looking over her shoulder, she stepped past the last of the great walls and into a world that felt like stepping back in time...