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

Chapter 9

The Curious Wolf

In the Otherworld, roses bloomed,

Thorns screamed in a symphony of anguish,

And the people cowered in shadows,

For beauty thrived in the bloody, dark fear

That draped itself over the boundless black night.

Retrieved from The Garden Poems: Madness & Rosses, Ch. 1, p. 15.

Seraphine Ashcroft

Seraphine stood outside for a few more minutes, replaying the conversation with the Grim Wanderer in her mind. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. She did not even know him, except that he was a deviant who enjoyed tormenting her by whispering odd things, which seemed like trouble.

However, she wanted to be kissed. To feel wanted and normal. Was it because of how I am feeling or my feelings toward him?

When the Grim Wanderer left her there, she felt lonely, but there was also relief. If she were to kiss anyone—to gift a piece of her heart—she needed to ensure it was because she wanted to, not because the circumstances influenced her to drown her sorrows by such theatrics as kisses and unfounded love. While it was improbable the Grim Wanderer had feelings, using him was wrong. That was not how she wanted to be.

Still, Seraphine missed him already. Whoever the Grim Wanderer was, a selkie in disguise or even a hag, it didn’t matter. For her, he was not any other friend but a safe place. It felt like they had known each other for a lifetime. Perhaps he will even show his face to me one day.

Retreating indoors, Seraphine closed her window and retreated to her bed. Sleep had almost taken her when she jolted awake by the sound of her window abruptly opening.

“What the—”

Peering into the room, she saw nothing amiss at first. Then, her eyes caught sight of a small purple leaf fluttering through the window like a delicate snowflake. It drifted toward her, and as soon as the leaf landed on the bedside next to her hand, it morphed into a letter.

Crimson Eyes,

Thanks for your company. Or, well, you’re welcome for my company, I should say. While I am out in the woods scaring countless folks with my handsomeness, I wanted to give you this leaf. It will lead you to me in case you want to hear more of my great advice.

P.S. I also found some pearls in the woods, which I am sure you stole. So, I took them, but I will return them to you. Seems like you may want them.

The letter morphed back into a little purple leaf. Seraphine almost laughed at the note’s cheeky tone. What a self-centered creature. As if—

Her gaze returned to the leaf, breaking her thoughts. It was beautiful and shaped like a heart, purple with small glittering spots, unlike anything she had ever seen, even at the Shadowmarket. She carefully picked up the leaf and slipped it into her pocket. Perhaps she could gather some pearls and trade them at the Shadowmarket tonight. Maybe Father would—

Suddenly, screams pierced the air, jolting her from her train of thought.

Seraphine stepped out of her bedroom and saw her father at the entrance of their house. Her sister and Thalassa were hiding near the kitchen table. As soon as Seraphine appeared, her sister looked at her with terror and mouthed, “Run.”

“This must be a mistake,”

her father said, probably to someone outside. “There is no way this involves her.”

Seraphine moved closer to her father and was surprised to see a full crowd of townspeople outside, their faces contorted with anger, some crying. Coldhaven was a small town, so most faces were familiar.

Pushing Leander and trying to get hold of Seraphine, a woman she recognized shouted, “There, you little cursed thing! You, you killed him!”

Her voice broke, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

Then, Seraphine realized the woman was Mr. Vale’s wife. She used to visit him occasionally whenever she was at his shop.

But killed who?

Seraphine moved toward the entrance door. Although her father tried to hold her back, she pushed past and approached the lady since this was a misunderstanding. “Ma’am, I am sorry, I am not quite certain about what you are talking about, but if there is something I can help with—”

Mr. Vale’s wife slapped her across the face, sending Seraphine tumbling to the ground.

What on Nemera’s wings?

Slender and short as the woman was, Seraphine felt the slap to her core, the woman’s sorrow overwhelming. Looking up, she found herself in the snow, blurry faces all around her until she could locate two familiar and clear visages between the chaos of the situation: Max and Evren Waithwood.

Max looked concerned and almost as if he was restraining himself. He should know better when it came to Seraphine, but he seemed just a bystander and a coward. Meanwhile, Evren was missing his smirk and all-mighty presence. His eyes were darker, a winter storm in them.

As Seraphine tried to stand up, she felt a pain that made her stick to the hard ground. Her ankle was twisted, probably when she had landed on the snow.

Lifting her head, she looked at Mr. Vale’s wife. “You have no right to do that! I have done nothing. How dare you come onto our land and do this? I don’t even know—”

“I have no right?”

the lady retorted, tears and fury in her eyes, her face contorting between pain and hatred. “M-my—”

she stuttered, struggling to find her words. “My husband was killed just before dawn. He was found in the Weeping Forests.”

No, that can’t be. Seraphine had just seen him yesterday. She knew Mr. Vale had been angry with her, but to hear that he had been killed was terrifying. She had even planned to visit him today to apologize. “I am so, so sorry. I did not know. I—”

Seraphine stuttered, unsure why all this was somehow connected to her.

Everyone was whispering, and multiple eyes in different shapes and colors looked at her. Yet, she focused again on Evren Wraithwood, who was whispering something to Mr. Vale’s wife while someone threw a crimson cloak at Seraphine. It was the one she had left at the front of the fishery, the one Max had torn.

“This! The body was found drained and wounded in multiple places. Such a cruel and vengeful death. The only thing left was this cloak, which, if I recall correctly, belonged to you, Miss Ashcroft. I saw you yesterday using it and also getting kicked out of Mr. Vale’s shop for your inappropriate behavior,”

Evren said loudly before crouching in front of her and looking into her eyes. His gaze was no longer a snowstorm but a tornado of dark and ice.

“I was kicked out thanks to you and left the cloak there. Max was there, too, and you know it. Perhaps someone took it!”

she hissed at Evren and then turned to Max.

With a pained expression, Max said, “I saw the fight, and yes, you were wearing the cloak. I did tear it, but I didn’t see you leave without it.”

Shocked and unease clouded her gaze. “That is no argument nor reason to blame this on me,”

Seraphine shouted. “I have been out all night and day, I—”

“Where?”

Evren interrupted.

“Where what?”

“Where have you been all night? I asked your father, and he told us you came home this morning,”

Evren stated, his voice devoid of all emotion, his eyes changing, enchanting in a way that reminded her of nightmares.

Seraphine could not answer. If she told them the story of her meeting with the Grim Wanderer, they would probably not only blame her but also be convinced she had completely lost her mind.

“Silence, it is then,”

Evren declared, standing up and moving just behind the crowd.

Lost in her thoughts, Seraphine touched the snow at her fingertips. Before she could muster any idea that might help her, she felt a throbbing ache in her face. Looking around, she saw a rock.

Someone must have thrown it at her. “Are you kidding me?”

she bellowed.

In a flurry, the other townsfolk started to throw more things at her: rocks, fish, anything they could get their hands on.

The whispers and screams were harsh enough to make her stay on the ground. Her ankle hurt while dozens of painful strikes hit her, one after another—rougher, darker, aiming to kill.

Steadily, Seraphine realized that she might not get exiled. This would probably end her. However, even if she knew this was a misunderstanding, deep down, she was aware she would always be the villain of the story.

What a sad turn of events. For the first time, Seraphine gave up and closed her eyes as pain filled her body and mind. She tried to picture her forest and the Grim Wanderer, her hopes to chat with him again or see him without his hood dissolving into thin air.

Seraphine could feel tears and blood covering her face, her body, and her dress. She dared to open her eyes, and the snow around her was painted red by her own blood. She tried to cover her face, but as soon as she moved her hand, she noticed a dark substance coming from her fingers, like small black veins. She couldn’t tell what it was, so she decided to lay her head down, not begging, just waiting, holding on as much as she could.

“Cursed child.”

“Killer.”

“Monster.”

Another strike, a bigger rock, she guessed, cracked on the left side of her head, and her eyes closed, her body unbalancing and melting with the cold snow. While everything seemed red, she did the only thing she could.

Seraphine smiled, her lips stretching in the freezing snow.

They might call her anything they wanted and blame her for all the unfortunate things in their miserable lives, but they were the killers since that was what they intended to do with her. Monsters. Worse than me. Even if she died there, at least she knew that she was better than them. There were no winners there, just losers and monsters. Ultimately, Seraphine smiled because, this time, she wasn’t one of them.

“Please, no, stop, please.”

Seraphine heard Leander plead. She tried to focus her eyes, as weak as she was. Her father was running for her, tears in his eyes. She wanted to tell him that it was fine, that she could take this, but she was dizzy and couldn’t muster a word. Between the cold chaos, she felt his arms covering her, protecting her, a sip of warmth crossing her bones and body.

No. Go away.

Seraphine wanted to push him aside. People were so erratic that there was no distinction between Leander and her, and Leander had now become the object of the crowd’s attacks. No, this is not right. However, she couldn’t move. Her father was covering her with everything he had.

Stop, please, stop. Seraphine wanted to scream, but nothing came out of her. She heard someone say from afar, “Please, let’s calm down. This is not what this is about. Mr. Ashcroft here is—”

She couldn’t catch that. She felt someone trying to hold and kick her, but Leander was there, moving her softly, caressing her while bearing the beating.

Seraphine managed to raise her head a little more and saw her sister hiding behind Thalassa, who seemed afraid for the first time and genuinely concerned. Then, she shifted her gaze to Max. Max was looking at her, seemingly unfazed and perhaps wearing a hint of a smile.

Somehow, she saw Evren Wraithwood again, confirming her suspicion that she wasn’t seeing clearly. He seemed to be screaming and trying to keep people in line. Evren looked miserable, as if this was too much to handle even for him.

However, people were not listening to him, the one person they always wanted to impress. Seraphine sometimes thought the only reason why the town was cursed, rotting, and cold was because of the people. Not the other way around.

Then, Seraphine felt her father’s embrace once more, tugging her in the cold snow. He was trying to move them both but failing.

Just leave me here.

“Beat me, kill me. My life for hers. Throw whatever you have at me. I will receive the punishment on her behalf,”

Leander declared firmly, holding her in his arms.

Alarms went off in Seraphine. This time, she fully opened her eyes, moved her hand, and tried to push him away. “No, Dad. Please, no,”

she whispered painfully, a taste of blood in her throat. She could not let the folks harm him.

Not him. Not because of me.

However, his only response was to hug her tighter, covering her more and caressing her hair like when she was younger. “You’ve done no wrong, and I will stand by your side until this is done. Until I am done. A world without you is one without stars—that’s how special you are.”

She heard his voice cracking as more tears fell from her eyes and his too, her pain slowly becoming an afterthought.

“I-I have so many things left to tell you, so much—”

The onslaught of the crowd abruptly silenced his words, shouting and hurling objects at them. Yet Leander bore the brunt of it all.

Seraphine thought she heard a distant scream piercing the air until she realized with chilling clarity the scream was her own. She was imploring them to cease their cruelty, but the crowd was relentless.

No, no, no. Brannon, if you can hear me, let it be me, not him.

After some time, people stopped. Maybe they had run out of rocks, and she heard people starting to whisper. They had punished her and him for nothing, but it was done, and she was breathing. Before she could muster a word, she felt Leander’s weight heavy on her body.

“Dad?”

Seraphine asked, her voice torn, unnatural even to her own ears.

Evren hastily approached Seraphine and Leander. “Mr. Ashcroft, please. This is enough, stand—”

His face paled, his eyes shutting closed, and a tear fell from those raven lashes.

Seraphine followed its path down to the snow. Why is he crying? Evren had started this mess. Seraphine wanted to stand up and go home with his father, but she couldn’t move. Leander was still caging her. She opened her mouth to speak, but something stopped her as her gaze shifted, and she saw Thalassa crying in the snow, her sister sobbing uncontrollably.

Somehow, time seemed to slow. Everything was silent now, and people weren’t looking at them. Some appeared paler than Evren and the snow, and others turned to run away. Max was nowhere to be seen, just as Mr. Vale’s wife.

Suddenly, Evren appeared in front of her again. He slowly caged her arms and pulled her toward him, as if she was a mere rag doll. For a moment, she thought Evren was warm, too, like her dad, and she let him pull her away. Seraphine saw no indication that he was doing this for fun or as some kind of trick. He looked pained, his striking features now a torn canvas.

“What is it?”

Seraphine asked Evren, feeling stiff as Leander’s body still caged her. Then, she felt the lifelessness in her father’s touch.

“Seraphine, just... I—”

Evren looked to her side as if he were seeing a ghost.

Seraphine looked to her side and saw her father’s face, his arms limp and unmoving. Leander wasn’t breathing. His eyes were closed, and his face was bloody and bruised.

Seraphine pushed Evren away as she moved toward her father. She used her bruised hands to shake Leander’s body. The lack of response from her father only worsened her fear as she desperately started to talk to him, her voice barely a whisper.

“Speak to me, please! Don’t leave me… Dad, breathe!”

Just breathe, please.

Seraphine hugged her father’s limp body. As she leaned her ear close to his chest, she asked the ancients for a sound.

However, there was no heartbeat.

Then, she truly screamed a shout that came from her soul, piercing the sky and the whole world. In the daze, she saw some remaining folks falling to the ground and holding their ears. Seraphine kept screaming until there was no air left in her lungs and no vigor in her body.

Impossible. This was not supposed to happen.

Her father, her entire world, was now dead.

Seraphine stayed there, holding Leander, until she felt two arms pulling her away from him again. She did not fight. In the distance, she could hear her sister and Thalassa screaming. There was so much horror, so much pain, that the world felt like it was turning black.

The last words Seraphine remembered being consumed by the darkness were distant but clear, “This was not supposed to happen.”