Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 38: Book of Silver Mist

Alone in my cell, I sit in the cold darkness, my mind racing. Father Codrin’s cruel words echo in my ears, and the impending doom of my fate weighs heavily on my heart. The villagers, convinced of my guilt, will eagerly await my execution by fire. How had everything gone so horribly wrong?

In the dim light of the cell, I can’t help but think of the mysterious silver wolf that had come to my rescue in the forest. It had saved me from certain death, and then disappeared into the night, leaving me with so many questions. Who or what was that creature, and why had it saved me? How exactly was it connected to the Vasiliev family?

As I contemplate these questions, I hear a soft rustling sound coming from the shadows. My heart skips a beat, and I instinctively move back against. the wall. But then, emerging from the darkness, 1 see a familiar figure.

“Mircea,” I whisper, relieved to see her again. “Were you here the whole time?”

It dawns on me that she never left earlier, but was simply hiding in the shadows waiting for Father Codrin to leave.

She approaches me,

her steps silent as a shadow, and then she speaks in a hushed voice, Arianna, we don’t have much time. You’re in grave danger, and we need to act swiftly.”

I nod, my fear momentarily overridden by a glimmer of hope. “What can we do?”

Mircea reaches into the folds of her clothing a

and hands me a small, leather–bound book.

“This is my Book of Silver Mist,” she explains. “It contains spells and incantations, knowledge passed down through generations of my people. The villagers know me as a healer, and the only reason I wasn’t burned at the stake years ago is that they find me useful to have around. They find it convenient to look the other way and not see what’s right in front of them, seeing as I’m the only one in the village capable of mending broken bones or easing the pain of childbirth. Even that hypocrite Father Codrin turns a blind eye when it suits him. I am a witch, Arianna. I have powers that can help you.”

I’m taken aback by her revelation. A witch? First vampires, now this. What’s next? Mermaids? Werewolves? But at this point, I’m willing to believe anything that might save me from the impending flames.

I stare down at the book, glowing faintly with a strange silvery light from within.

“What can we do with this?” I ask, clutching the book in my trembling hands.

Mircea’s eyes gleam with determination. “Well use it to break you out of this cell and escape the village before the execution. But we need to act quickly. Father Codrin has the villagers under his control, and they’ll turn on us if they discover our plan.”

The only allies I have in this nightmarish place are Mircea and the mysterious silver wolf, although he’s probably back at the Castle of Endless Night by now. And as for those bloodsuckers at the castle – the Vasiliev family, and even my own traitorous mother I’d be stupid to count them as allies. They’ve abandoned me, and it’s no use wondering why they haven’t yet come to save me. Maybe they realised days ago that I escaped the castle, and they assume that I froze to death in the snow, like Tatiana predicted – or maybe they think I made my way to actual civilization, safe and free, no longer their concern.

If I’m going to escape, it’ll be with the help of Mircea. And maybe the wolf, although he did say that his debt was repaid. Maybe Mircea knows something.

“When I was in the forest, I saw a vision of my father,” I say, remembering how the ghostly spectre had tempted me to lie down in the freezing snow, to give up. Mircea nods, murmuring “The Broken Ones” as I continue. “Then a pack of wolves started chasing me, hunting me. I came so close to being wolf chow, but then this other, absolutely massive silver wolf came out of nowhere and saved me. He could talk… like, directly into my mind.”

“Sort of like this?” Mircea says, and it takes me a moment to realise that she didn’t actually say the words at all. She thought them, sending her voice directly into my mind, just like the silver wolf had done.

“Yeah, I say, a million questions suddenly springing into my mind.

–

“How did you how did he do that?” I ask, dumfounded.

“It’s a pack thing.” Mircea says, her voice suddenly hard and bitter. But before I can ask her what on earth she meant by “a pack thing,” she gestures for me to look inside the Book of Silver Mist.

“Open it,” she says directly into my mind without speaking the words aloud.

Chapter 38: Book of Silver Mist

I stare down at the book. Its silver pages glint like moonlight upon a forgotten realm. Each of these pages, fragile as the promise of dawn, feels as though it could crumble into stardust beneath my fingertips. The leather binding, now supple with age, yields a gentle creak as I open the ancient tome, revealing a world hidden within its midnight–blue ink and silver embellishments.

As my eyes trace the cryptic characters etched in that enigmatic script, I’m transported to a realm where the language dances like whispers of secrets. long guarded. I open the book up to a random page near the middle. My breath catches in the back of my throat at the sight of the pages.

The silver stars on the set of illustrated pages form a celestial ring around a luminous crescent moon, as if holding a divine council in the ink–drenched sky. Below, a pack of ivory wolves, hauntingly spectral, raise their voices to the moon. They appear to be calling out to something, something hidden deep within the shadowy expanse of the illustrated forest that stretches beyond.

But it is the thread of vibrant crimson ink, so vivid against the parchments silver sheen, that captures my attention. It pierces the hearts of two wolves at the centre of the pack, binding them inextricably in a mysterious connection. As I touch the thread with a trembling finger, it feels as if I’ve grazed the very essence of their longing, a connection that defies time itself.

I

After a while I realise that I’m just staring in awe at the beautiful book. I look up to see Mircea smiling gently at me, her eyes full of knowing.

“That confimis it,” she says, smiling mysteriously.

“Confirms…what?” I ask, but she ignores the question and gently takes the open book out of my hands.

“It was no coincidence that you opened the Book of Silver Mist at this exact page, this particular spell,” she says. “This is a blessing, from the Moon Goddess. A sign. The path we must take.”

“Ummm… Moon Goddess?” I ask, totally dumbfounded now. Vampires and witches are one thing… but gods and goddesses? NO. FRIKKIN, WAY.

“Apologies,” Mircea murmurs.

“For what?” I ask, and in the blink of an eye her hand darts out and plucks a single hair out of my scalp.

“For that,” she says with a wink.

bing the spot. “What do you need my hair for?”

“Ouch!” I wince, rubbing

“It’s better that you don’t know,” she says. “Not yet, anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow night, and then I’ll explain more. Oh, and there’s one last thing I’ll need….

She walks over to a shadowy corner of my cell and bends down, picking up the pile of discarded rags in the corner. The rags I’ve been wearing for the past few days, the remnants of my once glorious red ball gown.

Father Codrin didn’t even notice when he was interrogating me earlier that I went from wearing my usual rags, to suddenly being dressed in a brand new outfit, a clean white woollen tunic and matching leather moccasins. Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

Goes to show how observant he is – maybe something I can use to my advantage.

Mircea picks up the remnants of the ragged red dress – tor and tattered from my scrambling Bight through the nightmarish forest – and then she does something really weird. She sniffs it.

She nods, as if confirming her suspicions, and puts it away in her wicker basket, rising to go.

“Stay strong until I see you again,” she says. Before I can ask her again why she’s helping me what is in it for her she’s disappeared. This time, I’m sure she’s gone for real

And so I lie back on the worn out mattress and threadbare pile of rags that serve as my bed, and try to fall asleep.

But the clock is ticking, and the flames of the impending execution draw nearer,