NARRATOR

“Is this the elemental village where you were born?” Sigrid held onto her wide-brimmed straw hat to keep it from being carried away by the wind.

They had gone out after lunch with Silas to gather fresh grass for the rabbits.

Their steps led them to the edge of a beautiful hillside covered in daisies. Below, the wooden and stone houses of the village came into view.

The creaking of carts, the clucking of chickens, and the laughter of children playing in the fields filled the air.

“Yes, it’s just as I remember. I never forgot it, unlike other things.” Silas gazed at the horizon with nostalgia, looking over the valley where he had been born.

His best memories… in the darkest nights, in the most horrific tortures.

“Have you been here before?” he asked Sigrid.

His hand gently held hers, a bundle of herbs slung over his back, and a sickle in his other free hand.

“Yes, this is where I hid the baby, remember? The baby I saved when I met you, Drusilla’s son.” Sigrid wondered what kind