I wake to Eldric's rummaging. He tries not to disturb me, but I was never a deep sleeper. I pick the last crumbs out of my satchel for breakfast. My companion sits at a respectful distance.

I'm trying to gather my thoughts about the previous evening.
"The ritual was a seal. It locked away an unknown, ancient force. It seems my amulet belonged to someone who took part in that spell. If my suspicion is correct, the Inquisition released this creature for some reason. The World wants me to find it, but I don't know what I'll do when I do. I won't be able to seal it back here, and it's unlikely I could simply destroy it. In any case, first we must find it - preferably before the Inquisition does. The amulet senses where it is. I fear the connection is mutual."

Instead of darkening, Eldric spreads a wide grin across his frog-mouth.
"That necklace brought you to me, too, didn't it? Good. I... was a Hunter. My clan hunted ancient monsters before humans started calling us monsters, too. This is good. We hunt!"

He nods once for emphasis. I don't know what kind of witch he once tangled himself up with, but I tip my hat to her. The curse suits him perfectly. He became what he hunted and what people believed him to be.

Even if his appearance doesn't change, his mind grows clearer. He can form complex sentences now; for the first time, I feel like I'm not trying to communicate with a troll.

As the mist lifts a little, we start back toward my village. My amulet is silent this time; we navigate by trees and sun.

Soon, I'm stumbling down a steep, rocky canyon. Eldric is probably watching me, because when the spiders attack, he's just as unprepared as I am.

Two enormous beasts lunge from their burrow, where they lie in wait. The first attacks Eldric, the second me. The bond is clearly working: the spider bites me, but I feel no pain. The injury appears on Eldric, though he doesn't even hiss. He sinks his claws into the beast while my spell dissipates uselessly. As we struggle with them, I manage to get my dagger into my hand.

Eldric keeps taking the injuries; I begin to worry about how much he can endure. The only good news is that our bodies can still withstand the amount of poison - for now, at least.

At last, I manage to hack off one of the spider's legs just as Eldric tears the head off the other. Its seven-legged companion rolls away toward its dark nest.

I let it go; I'm more worried about my companion. Most of the injuries he suffered were because of me. I have nothing to help him with, so we set off again as fast as we can.

The sun is no longer high, but it hasn't set yet. This is the hour when the forest still pretends to be daytime while already preparing for night. We follow the hunters' path toward Duskhall. After the Trial, my body is tired, but my mind is too alert. Every sound seems sharp, every movement heavy with meaning.

The trees begin to thin. By now, we should see the village smoke. There is no smoke.

The birds fall silent all at once. Not in fright. It is almost as if they have forgotten how to make a sound. Eldric stops and turns his head.

I remember Virelda. Not a particular warning. A half-finished lesson, from an afternoon when she was sorting roots and I asked why some had to be buried before sunset.
"The sun does not disappear," she told me. "It merely lets go. And what doesn't know where it belongs tries its luck then."

I did not understand her at the time. Now the amulet grows heavy against my neck. Not downward. Sideways. The shadows along the path are too long, and they do not quite fall where they should.

Eldric says something, but his voice reaches me strangely, muffled as if through wool. I see his mouth move before I hear the end of his sentence. Something moves among the undergrowth at the forest's edge.

No. It does not move. It is simply there. At first I think it is a shadow. Then I realize the shadow belongs to nothing. Its outline is vaguely human, but incomplete. Too narrow in places, blurred in others, as though it has not decided how much space it should occupy in the world. The air around it is cooler. Not cold. There is simply less warmth there.

Another figure appears farther away. Then a third. I do not see either of them arrive.

They do not approach. They stand across the path where light and shadow meet. Eldric steps in front of me. He raises an arm, but even he seems uncertain where the figures actually stand. The first apparition watches me. I have encountered one before, only briefly. That does not mean I understand it. The other two feel different. They do not belong to the first. I cannot say how I know that. They are simply bound to the same place.

None of them attacks. One raises a hand. It points toward Duskhall. I remember another thing Virelda once told me.
"If you meet them, don't ask what they are. Ask what they failed to finish."
The sun slips behind the treetops. For an instant the shadows become one, and the three figures seem to turn toward me together.

Duskhall. Whatever these things are, whatever brought them here, they are pointing me home.
"We have to go!"

I hurry along the path. Eldric lags slightly, perhaps because of the apparitions' influence. The houses are silent and dark. Only a few scattered buckets and broken jugs lie about.

Dagger in hand, I move forward slowly. Eldric catches up at the magistrate's house. As I reach the door, strong hands grab me and yank me inside. My companion lunges after me with an inhuman roar. The house fills with shouting, screaming, and children crying.
"Everyone, stop immediately!"

I begin to cast, and they release me. As I suspected, in the bluish glow of the witchlight, the whole village is crowded together. I see a handful of injured; most are merely terrified of the Changed one standing behind me.
"This is Eldric," I introduce him briefly to the elder, "and he's with me. What the hell is going on here?"
"Where is Virelda?" the old man fires back.
"I haven't seen her for three days, since I left."
I hear my voice rise at the end with fear.
"We thought she went with you. To the Trial."
"She can't go with me, you know that. So she left? She didn't tell you either?"
I search the crowd for our neighbors, but everyone shakes their heads.
"And last night bandits came down from the road, emptied the storehouse and every pantry. They said they'll be back for harvest."
"They'll come, my ass," I mutter, mostly to myself.

Highwaymen and outlaws have always avoided the village, wary of the witch's power. Maybe they saw the old woman on the road and realized Duskhall was defenseless. A one-time opportunity.
"Everybody, go home! In the morning, we'll discuss what I need to know."

As I step outside, the light orb dissolves. Eldric is at my heels. Some obey.

So it happens that I'm the village witch.

I soon reach our house. I was born here and have lived here my whole life. Low stone walls, thatched roof, small windows with thick glass panes, and worn shutters. The yard is enclosed by a hedge and a slat fence.

The door is intact, and I hear the rustling of the locked poultry. The bandits didn't dare touch the witch's house. All at once, I'm the richest person in the village. True, the door doesn't lock with a key. I must activate the right runes in a row to open it. It's actually excessive compared to what waits on the other side.

The door opens into the common room: study, living room, and dining room at once. From here, open the kitchen, two sleeping chambers, and the room assigned as a bathroom, which contains only a tub and an old ladder where our towels hang. It must once have been storage, but we never had enough belongings to need it.

As I enter, I light a lantern.
"It's not much, but now it's yours too."
I gesture around. Eldric carefully folds himself through the doorway. He doesn't complain, but he has to struggle with it.

I hang my satchel beside the door and note with resignation that there isn't a drop of water in the house. I'd like to send my thrall to the well, but I know our bond wouldn't bear it. That was the first thing we learned after binding. When I fainted, he ran for water. I woke to a terrible wrench in my chest, as if something were being torn out of me by invisible forces. I'm sure he felt it too, because since then, he's been very careful about how far he goes from me.
"You can put your things here."
I open the bench beside the kitchen. As expected, it's empty; we keep travel gear here, like my unpacked satchel. Eldric carefully sets the greatsword and wrapped armor inside. That's all he owns, so he has officially moved in.
"We need to fetch water!"

I gather buckets from the bath and kitchen. Of all chores, I hate this most. Eldric doesn't take the empty vessels from me, but outside, he picks up a third from the yard, and as we pass through the village, he collects three more abandoned ones.

At the well, he works quickly and efficiently; I don't have to move. He threads the four full buckets onto a hoe-handle and broomstick and grins, waiting for my reaction as he lifts the load. Not many around here could repeat that feat. Duskhall's water buckets are especially large compared to similar containers.
"All right, you're strong," I give him the praise he wants.
Show-off, I add inwardly, but my thoughts drift.

I catch myself trying to determine his true outline beneath the cursed exterior. This immense strength is his own, since the curse is broken. Then where does the magic end - and where does the man begin? As we walk back, more villagers appear. At our approach, they turn corners, slip behind doors. I don't laugh at them. I have no reason to be angry, but a witch - a real witch - can do whatever she wants to them. And my companion looks terrifying and is flaunting his inhuman strength.

By morning, everyone will know where their new place in the food chain is.

Back home, I light the kitchen fire. Much to do. This house doesn't like being left alone. The sourdough has barely survived, so I start by feeding it. The bread is dry; I put butter and cheese on thick slices, and pour a little water underneath. When the oven heats, I'll bake our supper.

I entrust Eldric with closing the shutters while I feed the chickens. Fine creatures - I come out with two dozen eggs. By morning, half the village will fight over them: nowhere else did livestock survive the bandits. I'll tell the neighbor woman to set a broody hen, give every household three or four chicks. I don't plan to stay long.

Without being asked, my companion carries firewood beside the back door. I set the basket in the kitchen and summon another witchlight. There isn't much yet in the garden: a handful of young spinach, a few stalks of spring onion go into the bowl. Still far better than nothing.

I call Eldric inside. The water needs time, but I can already brew tea on the iron plate. It's tempting to take from the eggs, but I resist, remembering there should still be sausage in the pantry. A small indulgence after the Trial.

The thrall sits on the kitchen floor in the corner, like someone piled a heap of stones there. I suppose others would talk now, but I'm not sure how to begin. I hand him tea in a large clay mug.
"Supper will be ready soon, though there isn't much," I apologize needlessly.
Who knows how long it's been since he ate a properly cooked meal?

I plate the cheese bread, add smoked sausage, and decorate it with vegetables. To me, it looks like a feast, but I don't know what Eldric will think. I watch his reaction. He throws himself at the food. I'm not surprised by how fast he makes it disappear.
"More?" I ask cautiously. We'll be leaving soon; I don't mind emptying the pantry.
"If it's no trouble," he replies slowly.

I slip into the little room behind the kitchen. I find walnuts in a basket, hazelnuts in a sack. I put both in a bowl, grab a large jar of apricot preserves, and the sausage's twin.
If I still had bread, this would be three days' food for me. If it's not enough, I'll just unleash him in the pantry.

I serve the preserves in a jug, set the rest on his plate, and sit down at the table.
"When did you last eat properly?"
"At a feast. In Theanor. But you saw what the city looks like nowadays..."
"You've been there since then!?"
I nearly spill my tea.
"No. I returned some time after its fall."
"A lot of time passed. I'm amazed you didn't go mad."
I nod with respect. He tilts his head.
"Are you sure?"
"Well, when we met, I thought we'd have one-word conversations. Honestly, I'm glad I was wrong."
"I'm coming back to myself. For a long time... I slept. I woke at full moon, had to dig myself out from earth, stones, roots. I didn't even understand why I woke. Then, when the moon faded, you arrived. I think... You woke me."
We watch each other silently for a minute. The Call is older magic than we can understand, but I don't think he rose from millennia of sleep just because of me. If he'd slept a little longer, they wouldn't have called him Changed but Ancient. What if I had not arrived first, but Helga or another apprentice? If four of them left Oldgrove, dozens might have wandered the mountains that night. Almost any of us could have broken Eldric's curse; most masters demand their pupils focus on studies instead of boys.

The unspoken wish I made at the lake remains my secret.

The silence turns awkward for the first time. Eldric nudges his plate inward, signaling he's finished.
"So... is this what humans usually eat?" he steers the topic elsewhere.
"There's a lot we eat. Mostly what grows around the house or what we slaughter ourselves. I don't have land, just the garden and a few chickens outside. We gather mushrooms too from spring to autumn at the forest edge. My mother raised piglets, but my grandmother didn't like dealing with them. She preferred trading potions and salves for meat."

I falter. I don't even know why I refer to the old woman as kin. Perhaps for simplicity. Eldric doesn't interrupt. He almost seems to concentrate on my words. Learning. I don't know what else to say.
"So you garden and gather mushrooms... sounds quite peaceful."
There is nothing insulting in his tone, yet I feel uncomfortable. I'm a witch, not some peasant.
"And you? What life would you have if not for that little side quest?"
There is a slight edge to my voice.

A moment later, he shudders, and a sound bursts from him like an avalanche. The tea trembles in my mug. Eldric laughs - which isn't impossible, just exceedingly unusual, if anything can be usual in that form. At the end, he coughs. Half a handful of pebbles lands in his palm. I bring him the ash bucket from the kitchen as if I don't find it strange. He doesn't understand his own workings, and I haven't had time to study him yet. Another day.

He thinks for a moment, then answers with surprising honesty.
"I would have given up hunting, lived a comfortable noble life; my inheritance would have shaped Theanor's days. Then it all would have faded, like everything else with the city. I... maybe this is better."

Meanwhile, I hear the water boiling. Eldric jumps up.
"I'll take it!"
He's already rushing toward the kitchen. For me, it would take two trips to ladle the cauldron into buckets and carry it to the tub. He lifts the whole thing without feeling the hot iron and crosses the house easily. While he returns it to the stove, I generously measure flower petals and oils for the bath.

Virelda wouldn't tolerate such waste, but she isn't here to object. I passed the Trial. I'm an adult, independent witch. I can practically do whatever I want; there are very few taboos left I must heed. As it happens, it isn't the limits of my freedom that occupy my thoughts. The bond with Eldric is more interesting to study.

I sense exactly where he moves in the house. He clears the table, even washes the dishes, then sits on the other side of the door. I sink into the fragrant water, wait until all my air runs out, and start counting. I feel him growing more tense. He senses I'm in danger. Just before he would burst in, I sit up gasping.

He doesn't take the experiment well. He begins pacing. He stops at my chamber door, then at Virelda's, examines the dried herbs around the chimney, and so on. In the kitchen, the pull is already noticeable. The distance we can endure without physical pain isn't much greater.

When I step out of the tub, he's back at the door. The water still steams invitingly.
"You can go," I grant permission, wrapped in a white linen sheet.
I don't look at him, just head for my room to get clean clothes. When he hesitates, I add:
"Judging by when you last ate, it'll do you good. The worst that can happen is you grow a few new leaves by morning."

His laugh is more restrained this time, but still thunderous. I not only feel it; I clearly hear his mass plunge into the tub, water sloshing onto the floor. My underclothes will do for sleep. I rub the water from my hair and collapse onto the straw mattress.

There's only one bed in the house, in the other bedroom, wide enough for two adults. When Virelda moved in, there was no question she'd use it. They pushed two flour chests together for me in the other room and laid a straw sack on top. At least I don't sleep on the ground; around here, that's not uncommon. When I started hanging off the chests, we turned them lengthwise. The whole thing is a handspan wider than my hips, but I'm used to it.

Besides the chests, my room has only a crooked shelf with my crystals, my little herb stock, and equipment. I nailed it together myself a few summers ago when Virelda allowed me to have my own tools. Many things came from my mother; others I gathered or made myself.

In my head, I take a quick inventory of what I must pack for the road - but sleep claims me before Eldric finishes his bath.