Chapter Text
Prologue
“Hush, little baby, don’t you say a word…” A voice whispered softly while hiding in the darkness. In their grasp, a small child clung to them.
“Momma’s gonna buy you a Mockingbird,” The voice continued to soothe while laying down the child in a cot near a bare one-person bed. The small child’s eyes were closed, and the figure backed away slowly before carefully going to the boarded-up window. Several of the wooden planks had previously been pried loose, and with several creaks, the figure slipped out onto the narrow ledge.
Moonlight shone outside, partially illuminating the tangled and lanky long hair of the figure, a young woman, as she tried to balance on the ledge, which was about two storeys up.
Hands gripped the aging stone as she looked into the darkness. The outline of a crumbling stone tower on the furthest side of the building was her destination.
Gritting her teeth, she started her journey, hoping that the guards patrolling the grounds wouldn’t spot her. The cold wind bit into her skin, and she hurriedly held the dark shawl she had draped over her shoulders tighter. Winter would start soon, she remembered her aunt commenting a few days ago with that sharp glint in her eyes. Her hands trembled upon seeing her aunt’s glee. Winter meant new initiates. New initiates meant more pain than normal.
The young woman’s breath came in shallow bursts as trembling hands clung to the wall. Below her, she knew there was a courtyard, yet she dared not look down.
She stilled upon spotting a light rounding the corner and instinctively tried to make herself invisible. The light was a lantern that swung in the distance. As it came closer, she could make out two guards. She held her breath as the glow cut through the darkness. The guards paused briefly but continued on their way within seconds. Only when the light faded did she allow herself to breathe again.
The tower loomed closer now. Neglect over the decades after the Bolshevik Revolution showed. Her aunt and the others residing here had fixed up much of the estate over the years, yet had mostly left the tower as it was for the owls to roost in.
She reached the corner, fingers numb, and swung herself onto the next ledge. The cold gnawed at her bones as she reached the tower at last.
“Come on, come on,” she whispered as she felt along the wall for a way to get in. Finally, she spotted a crack in the stone where the mortar had crumbled. Perhaps Fate was smiling down on her in some capacity. She slipped through and finally breathed a sigh of relief. Her goal was near. Inside, the air was damp, smelling of mildew and rot. She treaded carefully, not lighting a flame and relying only on the moonlight which filtered through the broken roof.
Her footsteps echoed faintly as she ascended the tower. Nearing the top, she froze as a faint hiss broke the silence. There between her and her goal sat a Siberian Pit Viper, probably seeking warmth from the oncoming winter. She froze as their eyes connected. The snake’s head was lifted, and its forked tongue tasted the air intermittently while its scales shimmered faintly in the light.
“Please,” she begged, having no other recourse. “Please let me pass.”
Surprisingly, the snake flicked its tongue once more and, with what seemed like a nod, slithered away. She stood there, shocked. Surely the snake hadn’t just understood her, had it?
When she reached the highest room in the tower, she tried to get the attention of one of the lazing owls by waving her arms.
“Hooo…” A Ural owl hooted.
She took out a crumbled piece of paper. “Mr. Owl,” she approached tentatively, hoping she wasn’t going crazy. She had noticed her aunt and others receiving letters from owls. Surely that wasn’t normal, but no post got delivered any other way.
“WHoooo,” the owl hooted once more, puffing up its plumage to show it was listening.
“Could you deliver this?” she held out the paper. “To police? Anyone who could help?” she asked with desperation in her voice. “I cannot survive another winter here.”
The owl remained still for a moment before quickly plucking the crumbled paper from her grip and flying off.
Hopefully, she wasn’t insane for thinking that the owl could understand her. Taking one last breath, she ventured back the way she came. She slipped back through the crack in the stone. The descent felt longer than the climb, and by the time she returned to the boarded window, her fingers raw from gripping whatever stone jutted out, she let out a sigh of hope. Perhaps that owl would deliver her plea. She pushed the planks aside and crawled back into the room, careful not to wake the child. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe she had succeeded, but the air in the room felt different.
She gasped upon seeing the silhouette seated on the wooden chair next to her bed. The moonlight illuminates the woman’s harsh features. The child stirred slightly but did not wake, though right now the young mother kept her eyes on her aunt, or more precisely on the stick her aunt had in her hand. She didn’t know what it was. How a stick could do that, but it always brought pain without so much as touching her.
“You’ve been a busy girl,” Her aunt said with steel in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be so brazen to try to escape without your daughter,” she sneered. “And after you begged me not to dispose of it.”
The young woman froze, her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to speak, to deny, but her aunt raised a hand, silencing her. “Winter is coming,” she said as she stood from the chair. “And you, my dear, shall fulfill your role as ‘The Vessel’. But first,” she chuckled darkly. “It seems some correction is needed. CRUCIO!”
Invisible fire tore through her veins, contorting and feeling as if they wanted to snap. The young woman collapsed to the floor, writhing as every nerve screamed. Her aunt’s laughter echoed in the small room, the child now crying, having woken up from the screaming.
“Oh, Delphini, we have such a long night ahead.”