The Fair-Haired immediately looked out the window and saw a dark, slender female figure standing in the middle of the Devil's Tongue. Her face was indistinguishable; the shadow cast by her long black hair hid it. The dark figure stood completely still.
The candle flame flickered. The Fair-Haired's attention was drawn to it, and when she looked back out the window, the mysterious figure was gone from the field.
She turned her head toward the table and suddenly saw a pale, elongated face with wicked black eyes and long teeth in front of her. A witch sat there. She lunged at the girl, her slender hand with long black nails grabbing her. The window shutters flew open from an unseen force, and a piercing cold wind swept in, snuffing out the candle. Darkness swallowed the room. Against the backdrop of the window bathed in moonlight, two figures flew off into the night. The terrifying witch held the Fair-Haired tightly, carrying her away. With grim triumph, the witch gazed forward. The dark, dense forest—her home—stretched out there.
Suddenly, the witch felt her burden grow heavy, pulling her downward. With wild irritation, she looked down and saw a stranger with short black hair and a black beard. Somehow he had gotten there, clutching her leg and swinging a long, sharp dagger that had appeared out of thin air in his other hand. The dagger plunged into her thigh, sending sprays of black blood into the air. The witch let out a piercing scream and collapsed onto the Magic Field. Next to her lay the Fair-Haired and the stranger.
The witch groaned and rose slightly, attempting to continue her flight. She needed to escape this madman and warn her sisters. Yet even in death, they would find out about everything. But her personal death was unacceptable and not part of her immediate plans.
A black figure swooped above her and landed on top. A powerful strike slammed her into the ground, followed by several relentless blows from the long dagger, stopping her movement. Half-lidded, facing death, she watched as a sword appeared in the stranger's hand. He swung it broadly—and the Cursed cut off the witch's head. The head rolled across the ground among the Magic Field's beds, threatening to grow into a new horror.
"What happens next?" the girl asked, approaching the beheaded witch.
"Next comes the Black Triangle," the Cursed said, his voice hoarse and dangerous. "You return home to your parents and hide beneath the floor. I'm going to the Big House to finish what I started."
The Cursed arrived in the village after noon. The village lay within the Twilight Forest, from which there was no way out—at least, not for him. Every time he moved through the woods, no matter which way he turned, he ended up back at the village. From this, he concluded that the exit must be in the village, or somehow connected to it.
He pulled his hood up and wrapped himself in his cloak. Entering the village, the few villagers looked at him with a mix of fear and curiosity. The hood and cloak hid him from prying eyes; he didn't want unnecessary conversation or speculation.
He saw the Fair-Haired by the well near her home, where she lived with her parents. She was drawing water, and he asked for a drink. From her, he learned that this village was cursed, that evil witches abducted young girls and boys from their homes every night, and they vanished without a trace—forever.
"I could save you from this scourge," the Cursed said.
"You?" she stared at him in disbelief, about to tell him he must be joking. But when she looked into his eyes, her doubts vanished. No ordinary person could have that gaze.
"But how will you do it?"
"I am the Cursed."
A shadow of fear crossed her face. Her doubts were gone. Too much suddenly made sense.
"If you are the Cursed, then it's the end for all of us."
He told her and her parents his plan: to set a trap for the first witch. Lure her to the light of a single candle outside the window. And when she came for the girl, he would be in the same room, grab the witch, and not let go until he killed her. The parents listened with horror in their eyes, but their reaction was slow. Had they been dealing with an ordinary warrior—even a seasoned veteran—the conversation would have ended before it even began. They would never have allowed their daughter to be used as bait for anyone's shady, pointless schemes. Even if the fate of the entire village hung in the balance—though that still needed proving.