Severance

"So I heard about what happened with you and Rhyannon.” Ambrosine greeted him that morning.

“Rhyannon? Who is that?” He slumped himself down on the small parlor sofa. His body felt heavy and exhausted. His arm hurt badly.

“The owner of Magnolia House. You know, the woman you had a slight…run-in with.” Her tone was eerily cheerful.

The cheerfulness was close to setting him on edge, but the smile she flashed him when he met her face settled him back down. It was impossible to feel anything but relaxed around her. Her voice was always even and gentle, and the smiles she gave him would calm him near instantly. Had he encountered her prior to his exile, he probably would’ve pursued a courtship.

“Oh, you heard.”

“It was kind of hard not to. You weren’t exactly the most silent. You don’t need to defend me.”

“How’d you…find her name? She was pretty tight-lipped about it.”

Ambrosine gave him a playful shrug, “I did some digging around. Found the record book and it had her name on the front cover. Rhyannon Scancredria, has a husband. Elias Scancredria. Seems like she married into the family but Elias up and left with their son, Yannick. I also-”

“How…did you…” Her voice was soft, shaking. Her eyes looked glossy. She stood on the staircase with her knuckles white from the tight grip she had on the banister.

“I just said I did some digging,” Ambrosine remarked matter-of-factually.

“You…You demon!” Rhyannon shrieked, her cheeks glistening with tears. “I want you both gone now. I knew I shouldn’t have roomed to your kind. You demons have brought nothing but suffering!”

The door flew open with a gust strong enough to blow out the candles on the wall. Rhyannon’s chest rose and fell sharply.

“Get. Out.” she hissed.

Ambrosine shrugged as if her words and malice barely mattered as Frewin looked between the two women. One was on the edge, the only completely calm.

“C’mon Frewin, I still need to grab my supplies,” Ambrosine replied making her way toward the open door.

Frewin stood from his spot on the sofa rather slowly, trying his best to not set Rhyannon’s anger on him any further. Her eyes were bright with tears and anger, her pale cheeks red and her hair clung to her face.

“I’m sor-”

“Get out of my house. You’re just as bad as her.” Her voice was deep and low, but still loud enough for him to hear.

He dropped his gaze from her to the ground and followed Ambrosine out. The door slammed shut behind them.

~

The street was quiet and empty, the previously lit and boisterous taverns were empty and dark. The other buildings had windows smashed in, doors busted open. Glass littered the street as a thick fog hung around every corner. The grass was overgrown in places.

“Is this even the same place?” Frewin asked, the question felt stupid to ask.

“Of course,” Ambrosine responded, she made off down the street and peeked into a few of the buildings.

“But it wasn’t like this last night.”

“Dragon miasma.” She said nonchalantly.

“Dragon miasma?”

“Yes, there’s a dragon nearby. Haven’t you sensed them? I figured someone who had such a close encounter would have picked up on them before even entering the village.” She pushed open one of the doors, careful to not snag herself on the exposed nails of the boards.

Frewin felt his pulse quicken and his injury begin to burn.

“You’re joking, right? There’s no way a dragon would take interest in this place. It’s practically abandoned.”

“The dragon is why it’s abandoned.” her voice echoed.

Frewin rubbed anxiously at his arm as he entered the building too, his boots crunching on broken glass. The scarred skin was oddly itchy.

“What do you mean? And how do you know this?”

Ambrosine’s head popped up from around a corner, she was holding a crate full of strange-looking bottles. Her expression made him feel like he asked another stupidly obvious question.

“It was in Rhyannon’s book. Supposedly, Levnyth- that’s the dragon- made a home in the swamp north of the village. Pretty soon, the water started turning brown and stunk, it was making people sick. A plague broke out and killed a good chunk of the place,” She thrust the crate towards him, “those that didn’t catch it made haste out of the village. The animals died off, plant life died off, you name it. Everything’s dead.”

“But Rhyannon…”

“Witches are weird. She’s probably warded her place. Charms and gems. If she’s worth her craft she’s probably got a garden and everything hidden in those peeling walls.” Ambrosine didn’t sound amused.

“So that’s why she was so weird about us? We broke her ward?”

“Yeah sure. There’s a house a few down that has some mushrooms I need to gather. You can hold that crate right?”

He tightened the crate closer to his chest, “I should be able to.”

Ambrosine nodded, and tossed a few other items into the crate, before holding the door wide for him.

“So….why did we see….what we saw last night? All the people?”

“Memory moons. They grow quite abundantly around here because of the swamplands. Oh, you probably didn’t have any around your country right?”

Frewin shook his head no.

“I figured not. When they hit a high pollination season and the pollen is in the air, they’ll release trapped memories. Sort’ve….like a hallucination. Some people like to harvest a ton of them and make them into dust to keep the hallucinations going. Many people lose themselves to their memory.” She made a weird face.

“You said you didn’t have any memories right?”

“The flowers haven’t brought anything back,” She was back to that strangely cold tone, “this is the house.”

It was an old stone building, it wasn’t as badly destroyed as the others, but the windows were smashed in with moss staining the stone. Ivy crept up along the sides and into the empty windows. Ambrosine pushed down some overgrown bush and made her way to the back, looking over her shoulder to make sure Frewin was still following.

On the back of the building was a set of rusted cellar doors. They made a loud groan as Ambrosine pulled them open. A stagnant smell of mold and rot wafted up from the cellar causing Frewin to stagger back and gag.

“You’re really going to go down there? You can’t seriously do that. It reeks.”

Ambrosine shrugged and turned to descend the stairs. Frewin grimaced, sat the crate by the side of the doors, and stretched. He looked around the back garden and was impressed with how peaceful the area would’ve been. There was once a small garden to the right, and some rusted decorations to the left. A decrepit shed sat in the middle. Frewin began to lower himself to the ground when a dark figure passing behind the shed caught his attention. He bolted back up and squinted to make sense of what he saw.

“Who’s there?” he called.

There was no response. Frewin looked around until he found a large stick. He picked it up and pointed it in the direction of the figure.

“I said, who’s there! Show yourself!”

He felt his arm grow heavy and numb. It dropped down to his side.

“I figured you’d both have left by now but I’m not surprised she’s ransacking the place.” Rhyannon’s voice came from around the side, and the rest of her soon followed, “I’ll give you a chance to drop your pet. You can keep a room in my inn.”

Frewin was confused.

“You just yelled at us to leave.”

Rhyannon chewed at her lip. “I know.”

“Then why?”

“You…It’s complicated,” Rhyannon folded her arms, looking to the side, “but nothing good is going to happen if you stay with her.”

“Why? Why do you keep saying that?” Frewin would’ve pointed accusingly had he had feeling in his arm.

“You’re just as clueless as my son.” She mumbled quietly to herself.

“Oh, she’s back. Are you here to yell at us to leave the village, witch?” Ambrosine had returned, carrying a sack of mushrooms. Her boots and the hem of her dress were soaked in the water, causing Frewin to grimace again.

Rhyannon paid her no attention.

“This is your last chance.” she reminded.

Frewin shook his head. “I don’t know what your issue is, but I’d be dead without her. I owe her.”

Rhyannon’s face remained as impassive as it was when she arrived.

“Fine then.” She turned to leave, disappearing around the corner of the building.

“What was that about?” Ambrosine asked, stepping beside him.

“Don’t worry. Though, she was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You do stink.”

Ambrosine glared at him.

“Then fine, let’s go home so I can bathe.” she thrust the sack of mushrooms at him and took the crate.

Frewin grunted but gave a laugh at her annoyed look. Once back onto the main street, he gave a look back toward the Magnolia House, but the thick fog had obscured it from his view.