3
In the early morning, hours before the sun would be peeking out over the horizon, Lysithea snuck into the stables behind the manor. The moment she closed the door behind her and lit a lantern, she found a solitary white steed pricking its ears and watching her.
“Good boy,” she whispered.
Dragging the cumbersome tack behind her, Lysithea approached the skittish horse. Perhaps it was the rude awakening or the unfamiliarity of her touch, but the animal snorted, throwing its head back in an obvious show of displeasure.
Until now, Lysithea had only mounted horses that had been prepared for her beforehand; she had never been tasked with outfitting one herself. The leather saddle felt as if it weighed nearly as much as she did, and its cumbersome shape meant that she could barely lift it to her waist. Losing her grip for just a moment, the saddle fell against the horse’s flank. The beast shook its head in agitation and snorted wildly.
At this rate, she was asking to be on the receiving end of a kick.
As the horse began to stamp its feet, Lysithea conceded defeat. Abandoning her feeble attempt, she walked back out of the stable and into the frigid night air. Despite the cold, the blizzard had begun to subside, which meant that she might just have a chance on foot.
Lysithea unfurled the map once more and looked at the shadowy horizon, gauging the right direction. The nearest inn from the manor appeared to be just a few hours’ walk away. The problem was that there was no mention of horses being provided at this inn. However, with enough rest, she could walk to the one Terran had spoken of, the one with horses. Then the port would only be a couple of days’ ride away.
It was a reckless plan, but it had its merits. If she fled without being noticed, she wouldn’t have to pay Terran his broker’s fee, which meant more than enough saved to afford a comfortable night in a humble inn—one without the haunting shrieks that kept her awake until early morning. If her escape failed, however, if Terran somehow caught her, he would be certain to keep a closer watch on her, which meant waiting out the rest of winter as madness slowly consumed her.
Amidst the still snowy landscape, her heavy panting seemed as though it could be heard from miles away.
Chilling memories from dreams past surged back, but she shook them off, hastening her steps. The mere thought of the Phantom pursuing her quickened her pace. Under a sky devoid of stars and with no compass to speak of, her only means of navigation was to glance back occasionally at the manor. However, as she descended a shallow hill, the house’s silhouette vanished from sight, leaving only the vast snow fields stretched before her.
Dawn was still hours off.
With the manor no longer able to serve as a landmark, she used her own footprints as markers. Lysithea managed like this, holding her lantern with stiff fingers until she stumbled, spilling its oil. Despite her whispered pleas, the flame flickered and finally went out completely. As if this were not bad enough, the snow began to fall more heavily, obscuring her footprints under a fresh white blanket.
With no trace of the path she had followed, there was truly no going back. All she could do was press on ahead.
Lysithea gazed anxiously at the black night sky, wondering when the sun would rise and light her way. Though the darkness did not make the cold more biting, Lysithea’s steps began to falter. Navigating the barren land with only the faint glow of moonlit snow required more courage than one might imagine. A groundless conviction that she was close to her destination was all she had to cling to.
Her resolve soon paid off, for in the distance, a pair of shimmering lights appeared. Her heart leaped with hope, and she charged forward with renewed vigor. However, the lights also seemed to be moving, approaching her with increasing speed and intent. The pair of glowing balls resolved into golden eyes glaring at her atop a mouth of snarling teeth.
Lysithea spun around to flee the wolf bolting toward her, but in a flash, the animal leaped into the air, narrowly missing her neck and instead clamping down onto her shawl. She tumbled to the ground, frantically undoing the shawl’s knot to escape the wild animal’s grasp while scrambling back the way she had come.
Growling viciously, it lunged for her again. This time, it managed to seize the hem of her skirt in its jaw. It yanked at her with wild movements, threatening to throw her off her feet again, but Lysithea managed to swing her bag at it with all her might. It struck the wolf squarely on the head, but this wasn’t enough to dissuade the beast.
Her breath caught at the glint of ferocity in the animal’s eyes, but with a clap of thunder, the wolf’s body jerked sideways. The sound had been a gunshot that ripped through the air, the single bullet piercing its skull.
Lysithea stood dazed with the wolf’s limp body at her feet, its blood staining the snow around its head a deep crimson. With the immediate threat extinguished, her body rode the wave of excitement down until her head began to spin. She felt herself falling as if being swallowed by the frozen earth.
The dull thud of horse hooves rang out over the muffling snow. Lysithea turned her head, expecting to find a hunter. What she found instead was a man in a thick black fur coat. He dismounted from his horse with ease, striding towards Lysithea with big, purposeful steps. The hunting rifle that had dispatched the wolf was slung over his shoulder. His thick fur coat did little to conceal his sturdy build.
Lysithea gazed at his eyes that sparkled much like the wolf’s had. They were the same brass color and held a similar predatory intensity.
“Terran.”
His gaze swept over her red hair splayed chaotically over the white expanse, her small white fists clutching pitifully at the snow, and her slender frame exposed between the gaping folds of her coat.
“Lysithea.” Terran bent down toward her. “What were you thinking trying to walk this distance?”
His breath caressed her face, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions in her—embarrassment, vulnerability, and yet a strange sense of relief. Still, Lysithea could not deny the stubborn streak of pride that remained within her. She couldn’t believe he had pursued her all this way.
“Leave…me…alone…” she said with a trembling voice, weak from the cold and exhaustion.
After a moment’s assessment of her condition, he scooped up her shaking body in his powerful arms. As his warmth seeped through her clothes, she unconsciously pressed her cheek against his chest. As her mind faded away, she could hear the rumble of his voice as he carried her toward his horse.
“You say to leave you alone, and yet you seem happy enough to see me,” he said, his voice like the only living thing in the great expanse of snow. “You’re not very honest with yourself.”
Lysithea’s reply died in her throat as she slipped from consciousness, falling into a deep, nightmare-free slumber.
* * *
Warmth enveloped her whole body as Lysithea slowly opened her eyes. Beside her, a fire cast flickering shadows against the jagged walls of what seemed to be a cave.
“Did you sleep well?”
Startled by the voice close to her ear, Lysithea jerked around. Or at least, she tried to. Terran held her body close to his own. His embrace alone was not detestable, but as she realized that the source of the warmth was his bare skin beneath their shared furs, her cheeks flushed.
“Let go of me at once!”
“Hold on, just be still for a moment,” he said, his nose crinkling in discomfort. “If you keep moving like that, it’s rather awkward for me.”
Terran tightened his solid arms around her, willing her to stop wriggling. Both were clad only in their undergarments. Her head rested on one of his arms while the other was draped over her waist.
“What happened?” she stammered. “How did I end up here like this with you?”
Terran let out a short laugh as if bewildered by her confusion.
“Do you really not remember?”
As if his question contained magic, memories from before her fainting spell began to resurface. She recalled her flight from the manor that had ended when a wolf confronted her, baring its fangs. She had been certain that was the end of her when Terran appeared, rescuing her with a single shot to the animal’s head. Although she remembered him lifting her from the snow, the rest of the pieces leading up to now were missing.
“You saved me. But why didn’t we return to the manor? What is this place?”
“You were too cold to make the journey back. I thought you’d freeze to death if we didn’t start a fire right away.”
In spite of imagining him undressing her and curling up beside her half-nude body, Lysithea felt a deep sense of gratitude considering the efforts Terran must have gone through while she was unconscious.
“I suppose I should say thank you for sa––!”
Before she could finish her sentence, a strong sneeze burst unbidden from her. She wiped at her nose, feeling how chilled it was against the back of her hand. They must not have been here for very long if she were still this cold.
This first sneeze opened the floodgate to more, and soon she was coughing, her body convulsing as she tried to breathe. Terran watched her silently before reaching behind him and producing a steel flask from his bag.
“Drink this,” he said. “You need to warm up a bit more.”
“Thank you,” she said and took a large gulp. A fiery trail blazed down her throat. “This is alcohol!”
Lysithea pushed the flask away in distaste, but Terran quickly caught her. His hand around hers was addictively warm.
“I thought it was water!”
While Lysithea expressed her reproach, Terran chuckled and took a few swigs himself. She could hear the sound of him gulping down the potent liquor.
“Who offers alcohol as a cure for a mere cough?”
“Complain all you wish, but you must admit it worked.”
He was right, of course. Her throat was no longer tickling so much. Still, Lysithea had to clench her eyes shut, bracing herself against the fiery power of the spirit burning through her chest.
This was her first time drinking anything stronger than wine. A warm breath rose quickly to her throat and her mind was already lifting up, pulling against the safety lines that kept her tethered to the ground where she could think logically. If she didn’t distract herself with something else, she felt she’d be swallowed by the intoxication.
Worried about the scent of alcohol on her breath, she murmured softly, “If you hadn’t been there, I would have died.”
“I’m glad you can acknowledge that,” he replied. “So tell me, why do you seem so intent on getting yourself killed?”
Terran leaned his chin on her shoulder as if genuinely curious. His short stubble prickled against her tender skin.
“I fled because I wanted to live, not die. I feel like I will go mad if I stay another night in that manor.”
“What makes you say that?” He lifted his head, his eyebrows rising in shock. “Wait, did you actually see a ghost?”
Lysithea fell silent for a moment.
She was reluctant to mention the screams that only she seemed to hear. She also did not wish to confess that she had been plagued by nightmares of the Phantom. Instead, she decided to rely on a half-truth, speaking instead about the past that continued to haunt her.