The Unbound Ember

The first thing I noticed was the silence. Villages aren't supposed to sound like this after rain. There should have been children chasing each other through the mud, dogs barking from beneath porches, someone arguing over the price of vegetables in the market square. Instead... Nothing. Just closed doors. Closed shutters. People watching me through narrow cracks in old timber. I rested my hand against the worn leather wrapping of my sword. Steel made sense. People rarely did. The village road climbed gently toward a weathered shrine overlooking the houses. A bronze bell hung beneath its roof, stained green with age. It rang once. The sound rolled through the morning air. I stopped walking. There wasn't enough wind to move it. I stared for another heartbeat before convincing myself it must have shifted after the rain. You're tired, Kaede. Don't invent ghosts. A raven burst from the shrine roof with an angry cry, disappearing into the low grey clouds. Only then did someone finally step outside. A man about my age. Maybe younger. Fear had a way of making people look old. "You came." His shoulders relaxed the moment he saw the swords at my side. "I wasn't sure you would." "You paid the guild." "I paid everyone." "And?" He managed a weak smile. "You're the only one who accepted." That wasn't encouraging. The village elder's house overlooked a narrow valley wrapped in cedar forest. Warm tea waited on the table. No one touched it. Five villagers sat inside. Not one of them looked another in the eye. That bothered me more than anything else. Fear usually pushed people together. This had done the opposite. The elder folded weathered hands over his walking stick. "They say you've hunted spirits." "I've hunted things people called spirits." "And?" "They usually end up bleeding." A few nervous smiles appeared. Only for a moment. "I hope this one does too," the elder whispered. Everyone had a different story. A hunter claimed a wolf had stood upright, like a man. A widow insisted she'd heard her dead husband's voice outside her window. A little girl whispered that her reflection smiled after she stopped. Her mother hushed her immediately. I noticed. Children rarely invented fear. Adults did that well enough on their own. I listened. Garrick had taught me that years ago. "Never interrupt frightened people." "Why?" I'd asked. "Because fear remembers details better than pride." I still wasn't sure what he'd meant, but he'd usually be right. When everyone finished speaking, I asked the only question that mattered. "How many?" Silence. The elder lowered his gaze. "Four." "When?" "Over the last nine days." "All at night?" He hesitated. "...No." I looked up. "The last one died just after sunrise." Something cold settled in my stomach. Predators liked darkness. Whatever this was...Didn't seem to care. I put my cup of tea down and started heading towards the forest. The quicker I find the body, the quicker I can figure out what has this village so terrified. The body lay beneath the cedar trees where the villagers had found him. Rain had washed away most of the blood. There hadn't been much to begin with. I knelt beside him. Hunter. Mid-forties. No broken bones. No bite marks. No defensive wounds. Nothing except the expression frozen across his face. Pure terror. As though he'd watched something impossible walk toward him. His fingers were stained black beneath the nails. Not dirt. Not soot. Almost...Like ink. I frowned. Odd. The ground offered no answers, only one set of footprints. His. No wolf tracks. No bear. No signs of struggle. He'd walked here willingly. Then died. That didn't make any sense. Something glinted beneath wet leaves. I reached down and lifted an old hand mirror. Its silver frame had blackened with age. The glass remained flawless. I tilted it toward the light. For a heartbeat...My reflection blinked after I did. Not before. Not with me. After. I stared. The woman in the mirror stared back. Then everything returned to normal. I lowered it slowly. Rain struck the glass. Ripples spread across my reflection. Not across the water. Across the image itself. A chill crept up my spine. I slipped the mirror into my satchel. I told myself I was imagining things. It wasn't a very convincing lie. The trail disappeared deeper into the cedar forest. Mist curled lazily between ancient trunks. Birdsong faded behind me. Even the wind seemed quieter here. I don't believe forests are haunted. I've slept in too many of them. Most noises have explanations. Most shadows belong to trees. Most monsters bleed. Most. I walked another hundred paces before my instincts told me to stop. Someone was behind me. I turned. Nothing. Only mist so I waited. Silence. You're letting their stories get inside your head. I almost laughed at myself, then I started walking again. Three footsteps later...I heard another pair. Matching mine. One. Two. Three. I spun, sword already in my hands. Empty forest. No footprints except my own. The silence somehow felt heavier than before. The abandoned shrine emerged slowly from the mist. Tiny. Forgotten. Its roof had collapsed years ago. Roots split the old stone steps. Prayer ribbons, faded almost white, fluttered weakly from broken beams. Someone had loved this place once. No one had for a very long time. The bell above the entrance moved gently. Again. No wind. I stepped inside. Dust. Rotting timber. Broken offerings. Nothing living. Then I noticed the mirrors. Every polished bronze mirror hanging on the walls had turned black. Not dirty. Black, as though darkness had seeped into the metal itself. I reached toward one. Cold. Far colder than bronze should have been. "What happened here?" My voice sounded much too loud. Something breathed behind me. I turned instantly. No one. The breathing stopped. I waited. Nothing. My fingers tightened around my sword. For the first time in years... I considered leaving a contract unfinished.