The Crimson Snow (A Realm of Chaos and Void #1)

Chapter 8

The Blue Fox & the Shadowed Wolf

How dreadful a life, to exist without another’s embrace.

For centuries, I’ve witnessed time’s relentless march,

yet the tragic fate of that cursed little fox haunts me still.

May she find herself once more in the labyrinth of time.

Retrieved from Theodorah’s journal.

Seraphine Ashcroft

Seraphine reached her cottage, bathed in sunlight that seemed brighter than ever. She was able to hide the rose under her cloak. One might think she was a witch for having something that did not exist in these lands. Still, she wouldn’t have regretted a thing. Before she could think more about that matter, the front door opened, and Leander Ashcroft appeared like the sun after a long night.

“Heya, Seren!”

he shouted from afar, his voice woody and full of warmth.

Seraphine ran and jumped into his wide arms. Strong as he was, he still stumbled back slightly. He was sunlight and comfort personified, and she felt like she wasn’t drowning anymore.

“I missed you,”

she muffled into his shoulder. She could smell white, pure winter and the forest in him.

“I missed you too,”

he replied, setting her down and holding her hand. Leander looked at her, and she worried at how tired he looked. He was very handsome, but she could see some lines around his eyes, his hair a little messier. She promised herself to work really hard so he could take a break from useless hunting. At this point, there was nothing to hunt. Everything is dying around Coldhaven.

“Seren, there’s something I must tell you,”

he began, but before Leander could continue, her sister burst out of the house, a grin stretching across her face.

She waved four letters sealed with a crimson red seal. “We’ve been invited to the Wraithwood household for a ball!”

Aeliana resembled a cheerful little seelie fairy, practically bouncing with excitement. “Not that I am not happy to see you here, Dad. But this is the event of the year—”

“Can’t believe she is more enthused about a ball. She is growing too fast,”

her father muttered under his breath, and Seraphine laughed, silently agreeing with him.

“All of us are invited?”

Leander said, his tone tinged with concern. Perhaps he wondered why now, just like her. After meeting Evren, Seraphine was sure there was no way in any of the three realms they would ever be invited. However, she felt a little daring after talking with the Grim Wanderer.

Seraphine took the invitation, smiling like a fox. Payback time. “Well, that’s unexpected, but I guess it won’t hurt to enjoy a night away. It says it’s to be held two nights from now. We still have time to get—”

“You are not going, Seren,”

Leander interjected.

Seraphine looked at her father, her smile faltering.

“But we are all invited. It would be—”

“No, you are not going there. You are never to be near that household,”

Leander insisted, gripping her hand and looking into her eyes pleadingly.

She was bewildered by his intensity, feeling hurt.

“Look, I know we’re short on some stuff. I don’t mind using some of my old dresses,”

Seraphine pleaded, suddenly desperate to go, to see Max, to pain Evren, and to feel like part of the town.

“I don’t want you there!”

Leander shouted, the force of his voice cutting through the air.

Silence fell sharply around them. Even her sister stared at Leander as if he were a stranger.

“We will go, but you will stay here. I do not want you there with us.”

Seraphine froze, unable to accept the words that came from her father. What a twisted world. Thalassa’s laughter echoed from the background.

“Good. We don’t have enough money for new dresses anyway, so it’s better to keep you here, Seren dear,”

Thalassa said mockingly. “Also, it seems like you’ve been skimming some of our savings. I found some coins in your room. You know that’s stealing, don’t you?”

Seraphine was aghast. “I earn my money from my work, and I’ve never, ever stolen a coin. I provide whatever I can, you know that.”

Her face turned red, incredulous at the accusations. Then, she saw her father and sister avoiding her gaze.

Do they believe I am stealing? Perhaps that was what her father had wanted to talk about. Does he think I might steal from the Wraithwood house? Her father knew she was keeping savings for herself. He would never think bad about her like that.

I don’t want you there.

Thalassa’s smile widened, and Seraphine stormed to her room without another word.

She heard Thalassa in the background, “Leander, you need to get a hold of her. It’s getting out of hand. I received a note that she disrespected the poor fisherman and Evren Wraithwood.”

Wanting to hear no more, Seraphine slammed her door loudly. “Breathe, just breathe,”

she told herself, but there it was, the drowning feeling again.

This time, she felt like claws were dragging her to the bottom of her own pit. Seraphine took the rose out and placed it on the desk. It represented a momentary happiness spent alongside the Grim Wanderer. However, in truth, there was no happiness. There was just void and confusion and pain.

There must be some misunderstanding. Seraphine needed to calm down. Then, she would talk with her father. There was no way they thought of her as a thief. Cursed? Fine. But a thief? Well, she was, but never to her family. That’s not good either.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she felt something heavy in her skirt. Reaching into her pocket, she found five coins. It was too late for explanations now. At a different time, she would have screamed out of happiness. Now frustrated and defiant, Seraphine threw the coins out of her bedroom window.

Seraphine heard muffled sounds outside her bedroom and was sure Leander and her sister tried to speak to her, but Seraphine was still mad, so she kept her door locked. She had been staring at the same spot on her ceiling for hours, her mind a whirlwind of anger and confusion. How had everything gone so wrong?

Wanting to escape her swirling thoughts, Seraphine moved to the tiny desk by the window and opened the black book she had borrowed from the Mystweave Library. Some reading might help her escape her mind.

The truth was that she locked herself up not because she was angry but because she couldn’t face her father. He was her hero, and yes, she hadn’t been the most upright and perfect daughter, but she was too scared to acknowledge that perhaps her father thought the same as the rest—that she was a mistake, an omen of bad things, a thief, a trickster.

No, I won’t consider it. Seraphine opened the book. The book seemed enchanted, which was normal coming from the Otherworld. Whenever she lifted her eyes from its pages, the letters shifted, rearranging themselves into a different story.

The first was titled The Winter Haunt and the Prince, but it quickly became The Haunted Winter Prince. It was bewildering.

Seraphine flipped through other pages, finding illustrations of animals, creatures, and items from the Otherworld. These images also transformed with each blink, morphing into new depictions, except for one. It was in the middle of the book, unchanging.

A wolf.

“Why so quiet?”

The familiar voice broke her concentration.

She didn’t need to look up, recognizing that tone by now. She had felt the tingle in her neck minutes ago, so she was just waiting for him to say something.

“What are you doing here?”

Seraphine turned and saw the Grim Wanderer sitting on the edge of her bed, the picture of relaxation.

His lips quirked up. “Can’t say. Seems like I cannot stay away from you,”

he purred, and Seraphine turned around. Such playfulness was strange for her, yet it felt like a sweet caress on her heart. Do not even think about it.

“Well, that is sad. Don’t you have anything better to do? Like scaring people, perhaps?”

Grim Wanderer

The Grim Wanderer surveyed Seraphine’s bedroom, noting its cozy simplicity. However, it was the walls that captured his attention, adorned with multiple paintings of flowers and foxes.

Foxes?

He disregarded the infuriating detail and focused on Seraphine. He knew she was on the verge of some painful family conflicts. Of course, he had a hand in all this. It was part of his plan—so was to offer comfort. He needed her to trust him, yet he also genuinely cared about her well-being, his mind and heart always cracking and twisted whenever it came to her.

His hooded gaze wandered to her. There she was, still in that old torn dress, her hair pulled up messily, showing a beautiful long neck he so much wanted to trace with his fingers. Seraphine had a black book in front of her, and somehow, she looked so humanly normal and fragile, her eyes slightly dim and worried.

No. Normal is a poor choice of words, he decided. She looked like a dream, too, something he would always yearn for and never truly be able to have.

How many times would the mere presence of her enchant me? It had been an endless loop of yearning and wanting without release. Some locks of hair fell, grazing her cheeks, and for a moment, the Grim Wanderer thought that even such mere movement of her shiny hazelnut hair could be considered pure delirium. I am in so much trouble.

Clearing his throat, he stood by the large window. “I might go and scare some people later, but in the meantime, I can be an invisible guest or friend. I think you would rather like that. You seem… torn.”

She turned around, holding a letter. “What is this?”

He tried to take the paper from her grasp, but she snatched it away.

“A sentence of death,”

Seraphine mocked, stretching her legs and looking smitten. Such a complexity she was. One moment, her eyes could be a deep, sorrowful red, and then they could turn into devilish crimson.

The Grim Wanderer moved and slowly took her wrist—an excuse to touch her—pressing her palm until she was no longer holding the letter.

Opening the letter, he smirked. “Ah, an invitation to a ball! You humans fancy me with such theatrics,”

and it was true. What a waste of wine to be held captive in a dress and pretend to smile while chatting with liars and deceivers.

Balls were a mere mask to secure a position in society. However, he had never seen her at one, and this seemed like a good movement in his game.

“I think you should go and dance. Can’t keep that talent hidden in the winter forests and trees.”

“I’d rather be seen by them than by that smelly excuse of a man.”

Snatching the letter from his hand, she tore it in two. Well then.

“Wraithwood?”

He eyed her carefully. Seraphine wasn’t fond of that name—that, he was sure.

That, I made sure.

“Yes, quite sure you are familiar with that name. Everyone here knows it,”

she said, and based on her look, she did not find this situation as amusing as he. “He is a like a… wolf, not a good one, just a lonely and smelly one. He is a self-centered human, a pompous brat with no manners, and yet…”

“And yet?”

“I do wish to go, not because I want to fancy myself in dresses, just… I don’t know. I am bluffing and blaming all this on someone I have seen just once because I am mad and not thinking straight.”

The Grim Wanderer moved slightly closer to her. “I am sure he is all that. Perhaps he is even worse. But you do not need to mingle with him. You can just go and have fun. I am not a fan of balls, but if you go, I can keep you company, hidden in the shadows, perhaps scare that Wraithwood excuse of a wolf away for you. I can even hide your beautiful, graceful dancing from undeserving eyes. If I don’t, perhaps…”

He trailed off.

“What?”

she said, curiosity filling her gaze.

“The trees and snowflakes that are always delighted with your moves might feel jealous, Crimson Eyes. Such a view is not for everyone. I am sure they want to keep that view to themselves. Who would have guessed that the trees and snowflakes could be so bitter and envious.”

“Just the trees and the snowflakes are jealous? No one else I should be concerned about?”

Her eyes flickered from crimson to almost dark, tasty wine.

The Grim Wanderer smiled, licking his lips slowly at the thought of delicious Otherworld wine. Still, those eyes of hers were making him drunk enough. “I can think of a very handsome-ish creature from the Otherworld that might want to join your little fan club alongside the trees and snowflakes. But this is neither here nor there. I doubt you get all worked up for a mere ball. What else is getting in that twisted mind of yours?”

Seraphine sighed loudly and looked at him pensively. “It’s not the ball… I am… I don’t know what I am, what I should feel. I feel mad and sad and torn, and happy and eager and guilty. Is that normal? To feel everything and nothing at all?”

If she only knew I feel just like that every single day of my miserable existence. “Let me listen to what pains you then. You can even pretend I am not here. Maybe that will help ease whatever is making those crimson eyes so sad and dim.”

She smiled. “There is no way I can pretend you are not here.”

“Good, I feel the same way about you. There is no way I can pretend you are not this extraordinary being.”

I mean it.

Seraphine moved up to open the window, her hair falling to her back in slow waves from her messy bun. She revealed a small ladder outside. “That is what a trickster from the Otherworld would say. Try better next time.”

She then jumped outside the window and sat there.

“Yes, you are right. But right now, I am not a creature from the Otherworld. Not a trickster, not a whisper in your ear. I am your ghost,”

he said while sitting beside her on the outside ladder.

“I am so tired… Whatever I say and do is wrong, and I am hurting. I just don’t know what I am supposed to do…”

Seraphine closed her eyes.

All this was his fault, and he could use this time to push her more for his plan to succeed, but instead, he decided to take a break from his role as the Grim Wanderer. He wanted to be himself, too, so he gently nudged her shoulder. “As a creature that is probably older and wiser,”

he began, hearing her laugh softly.

“Weren’t you a ghost? Aren’t those silent?”

“You are ruining my moment, and there are hunting ghosts. I guess they speak once in a while.”

“I am quite cursed, so that makes sense, I guess,”

she said quietly.

He moved closer. “There is one piece of advice I hope you take to heart. Which you have, if you were wondering.”

Laying down his covered head, he whispered in her ear, his lips and nose caressing her pale and delicate skin, “You are the most extraordinary being I have ever encountered.”

He saw her eyes drifting close, but she didn’t pull away. “And you can be whatever you want to be. You want to be rich? Be it. You want to flee this town? Do it. You want to lie down and do what people expect you to do so you can be a hero? That is fine. But I hope you do whatever makes you feel like you are yourself—even if that makes you a villain in others’ eyes.”

At that, Seraphine turned, nose to nose. His face was hidden, but she felt his gaze on her deeply, profoundly, unworthy.

“And Seraphine,”

he added, realizing he had said her name aloud for the first time. “Trust me, with those eyes, you would make an extraordinary villain. The greatest and most dangerous one the world has ever seen.”

He paused, and longing came alive in her eyes—to be free to feel like herself. She was no villain, but in a world full of fake heroes, the real ones, the purest hearts different from others, would always be that. “Just do whatever you wish. The world is full of mystery and adventures. Do not let such human thoughts get to your head.”

“I do not want to be a hero,”

Seraphine whispered so low he barely caught it. Surprising him, she inched closer, her eyes drifting lower momentarily, leaving to display a crown of dark lashes. “Nor a villain. Though the way you make it sound, it seems quite fitting for me. Still, I just want to be me, normal me—no hero, no villain. Merely ordinary.”

“Ordinary is the most dangerous and brave thing one can be.”

With that, she had fallen again for his tricks. Seraphine had opened up to him. Her sorrows and concerns now belonged to him.

Now that it was done, he could leave. However, he couldn’t move away from her. Not when she was so close. Seraphine was an addiction, one he did not ever plan to quit. Her eyes were now open again brilliant, stardust painted in wine and crimson, and her mouth was a prison he couldn’t escape. He was a prisoner already, hers, even if she wasn’t aware of it.

For a moment, he inched closer and saw her close her eyes, his breath mingling with hers. Waiting for him. Just one kiss.

“I must go,”

he said quietly, distancing himself from Seraphine.

Without waiting for a response, he walked away, disappearing among the snowflakes falling from the clear sky as he turned off his emotions once more. He didn’t dare to look back. They would eventually see each other pretty soon, according to his plan.

It was better this way. He needed to focus now, or all his work would be for nothing. Not to mention, the stakes were high. It was either win or lose a life.

Her life.