The aufhocker’s growl deepened, and it launched itself at me with two powerful leaps that dug fissures into the ground. It came at me with its mouth open, and I lifted my sword, hilt poised in my hand like a spear, before hurling it at the monster, which roared as the blade lodged in the back of its throat. As it landed, it shook its head in an attempt to dislodge the weapon, slinging blood and drool.

I watched for a moment before approaching as it pawed at the hilt. The creature growled, though it was more of a gurgle. I gripped the slick blade and pulled it free, only to jam it farther into its throat before taking hold of its snout and snapping its jaw. The creature gave a final, mournful moan before going limp at my feet.

Its blood pooled on the ground, dark and glossy. I had done this so often, I felt nothing—no remorse, no thrill. This was the way of the world, and I had been the catalyst.

My only concern was that the creature had gone against its nature and roamed in the daylight. Was this the disturbance that had the witches wailing?

In the silence that followed, my gaze shifted to the woman who still lay motionless except for the hurried rise and fall of her rattling chest. I bent and took up my sword once more, blade dripping with crimson.

As I came toward the woman, I saw her eyes were open and her throat shredded. During the attack, she had fallen on her cloak and was framed in a sea of royal blue. It made her look even paler, her blood an angry contrast.

She was far younger than I expected, and I wondered what had brought her to the woods until my eyes fell on an overturned basket some distance away, a handful of mushrooms and herbs scattered on the ground. I recalled how Yesenia would wander the grounds outside the Red Palace two hundred years ago for the very same supplies.

A sudden wave of unease straightened my spine, and my wish to return to Isolde renewed.

I knelt and the girl met my gaze. She seemed to breathe harder as I hovered, and whether out of fear or her approaching death, I did not know.

“This is a mercy,” I said and leaned nearer as I whispered, “Close your eyes.”

It took her a moment, but she obeyed, and I rose, lifting my blade overhead, only to bring it down on her ruined neck. The head separated from the body cleanly, and despite the decapitation, I knew it was not enough to keep resurrection at bay after an aufhocker bite.

She would have to be burned.

I used the woman’s cloak to clean my blade and, once sheathed, leaned down to pick up her head by her dark, silken hair when I caught movement in the tree line.