A monochrome world unfolded around me. Cobblestone paths merged and seperated in a maze of buildings. A crowd of people rushed around to nowhere, and not a single sound escaped from moving lips. Every turn brought me down the same path. Hoofs struck the stone road silently as they pulled wagons and drab carriages through the colorless city.

“Please, don’t do this. We’ve done nothing wrong.” a ragged voice cried behind me.

The stone path widened behind me into a town square, devoid of pedestrians. An unlit pyre stood alone in the center with a family of three bound to it. The yells of hundreds echoed through the empty air, demanding the end of the heretics.

“You have consorted with the aes sídhe and invited evil into the realm.” A man in blood red robes appeared from behind the pyre.

“We invited no evil. It was just a little brownie, a household sprite.” The man abruptly stopped talking as the crimson figure struck him across the face with a staff.

“Silence!” his voice boomed. “All the fairies of the dark gods are vile deceivers. That monster has cursed your household.”

“That brownie isn’t the monster, you people are.” The man’s voice was barely a whisper that echoed through the silent city center.

The staff struck his face again. This time, scarlet trickled across his pale skin. The woman bound next to him opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came. Her chest heaved with effort, but no resonance of any pitch could be heard.

“You see the loyalty these creatures twist from their victims. These poor souls have been claimed by darkness. They must be purged through the light of fire. May they be cleansed by the Lady and sent to the heavens as pure spirits.” Grand gestures accompanied the words, even after the red clergymen paused.

Muttering rose from the invisible mob. Condemnation for the family mixed with praise for the protection of the holy order. Taunts of hatred crescendoed and blended in harmony with the cheers of devotion. The voices hungered for the death of the three before them.

Silence descended, leaving only one small voice muffled in tears. “Mommy, I’m afraid.” Cracks began to form from sky to cobblestone.

“I don’t like it here. I want to go home and play with brownie.” The cracks splintered, spreading like roots across the grey.

“Mommy, I’m so scared.” The world shattered. Golden sunlight lit the brown wooden walls. Green leaves drifted across a blue backdrop. Color replaced the black and white nightmare that stole my breath.

The blankets lay crumpled at my feet. Sweat covered my chest despite the chill breeze that floated over me. My hand clutched the amulet, and my breathing slowly resumed.

Small prayers to the Lady of Light begged for the memory to fade. Prayers to Realta begged for understanding. The family that burned when I was eight hadn’t haunted me for years. Why would I dream of the last moments a few heretics faced?

My eyes drifted to the small desk in the corner of the room. Parchment and ink accused me for the report I wrote the day before. Already on its way to the capital, my writing carried no mention of Glyn. Not a word of the man who saved me from the edge of death. Not a word of the healer shrouded in suspicion.

Remnants of the dream merged with my current thoughts, and an image of Glyn bound to a pyre formed. I rose quickly from my bed and dressed, ignoring the nausea that tickled the pit of my stomach.

The aes sídhe were evil. Far darker memories that left me at a church orphanage taught me that. My life was devoted to making sure that no more families fell under their dread curses, and no more children were left orphaned by their evil.

If Glyn was learning his craft from minions of the dark gods, perhaps I still had time to save him. A healer who asked nothing in return didn’t deserve to meet an end through corruption and fire. If I saved him before he crossed a line, it wouldn’t matter that he was left out of a report on dark creatures.

My focus returned to more pressing matters. Bevin’s story was not just a fearful delusion. The werewolves of Osraighe were the only wolves I knew of that could smile at their prey. Even worse, the Osraighe clan didn’t have the power to summon a beithir.

A heated argument clamored from downstairs, breaking me from my meditation. I quickly descended to the lower level of the elder’s home, and saw a man storming out the front door. Aina beckoned me to join her at the table. Steam wafted from the bowl already set for me. After a little small talk, I inquired about the argument.

“That was Weylyn Faolain. He claimed he saw some strange wolves over by Sawyer Reid’s house. The man burst in here demanding another hunting party to go after them.” She explained while sipping her tea.

I jumped quickly to my feet and turned toward the door. “Which way is the house?” I asked.

“There’s no need to fuss dear. Mr. Faolain sees wolves in his soup. Poor man has never been the same since that hunting party was attacked. He barges in here twice a week demanding action. The only time in the last few years there has been an attack, he was asleep in bed.”

“If there is a chance he actually saw something, it’s important I investigate. It won’t take much time to check the area for tracks.” I replied.

“Then you can go after you eat. For such an easy task there’s no need to go rushing about, is there?”

The aroma of rice topped with greens and darkened with a sweet sauce drifted to my growling stomach. Aina’s cooking tempted my hunger more each time I ate it. Seeing my willpower weaken, the elderly woman smiled.

“I suppose hunger would be an unnecessary distraction.”