CHAPTER 13
The snow caked on Brygida’s boots slid off in sheaves of white onto the black.
Within, everything was black. The black hearth held no fire. The black table had been overturned. Black dishes and black jars lay in pieces upon the black floor.
It was wrong. Everything was wrong.
Halina stood in the center of it all, her hands on her head. She stumbled back, revealing Mokosza’s altar burned to ash. And on the floor, discarded like playthings, the yarns on a Belt of the Golden Spider were scorched, a Scythe of the Mother broken in half. Her heart caught in her throat.
This place—it was just like the cottage she shared with her mothers.
In the blizzard, it had been cloaked in white, its charred remnants hidden, but inside…
“Did a demon do this?” Kaspian asked from behind her, s
