The child's fever broke with a gasp.
Elara snatched her hand back as the little boy sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes. His mother wept with gratitude, pressing coins into Elara's palm - coins that would turn to ash by morning, like all payment for her services.
She didn't stay to watch the flowers die.
Outside the cottage, winter air bit through her threadbare cloak. The village of Black Hollow never warmed, not even in summer. Fitting, for a place built atop an old witch-burning ground.
"Demon's whore."
The whisper came from the baker's wife, clutching her rosary as Elara passed. The butcher made the sign of the horned god. Children scampered out of her shadow.
Five years she'd lived here. Five years of midnight healings and daylight scorn.
The first scream tore through the evening like a gutted animal.
Elara spun, her boots slipping on frost-cobbles. At the village square, something dark and writhing had erupted from the well. Its many-jointed limbs scraped stone as it dragged itself onto land, its mouth a yawning pit of needle-teeth.
"Witch!" The blacksmith pointed a shaking finger at Elara. "She called it!"
The creature's head snapped toward the sound.
Elara ran.
Not from the accusation - she was used to being blamed - but from the sigils carved into the demon's flesh. She knew those marks. Had seen them in her nightmares since the night her sister died.
A hand grabbed her cloak, yanking her into an alley. She lashed out, magic sparking at her fingertips -
"Still your claws, hellcat."
The man holding her wore the black-and-silver of a Church hunter. Up close, he was younger than she expected, maybe twenty-five, with sharp Northern features and eyes like tarnished gold. His grip didn't loosen as the demon's shrieks echoed through the streets.
"Kaelan Rhyse," he said, as if introducing himself at a banquet. "You're coming with me."
Elara drove her knee between his legs.
The hunter wheezed but didn't release her. "Or we can do this the hard way."
The demon rounded the corner.
Its too-many eyes fixed on Kaelan.
Elara saw the moment recognition dawned - the hunter's breath caught, his free hand flying to the sword at his hip. The demon shrieked a sound that shattered windows down the lane.
Kaelan's glove split as black veins erupted across his hand.
Elara's curse woke in response, slithering hot beneath her skin.
The hunter's gaze snapped to her. "You can see it."
Not a question.
The demon lunged.
Kaelan threw Elara behind him, his sword meeting talons with a shower of sparks. The impact sent him skidding back, boots carving grooves in the frozen earth.
"Run," he growled.
Elara turned -
- and found three more hunters blocking the alley's end, their blades drawn.
The tallest smiled. "Father Vael sends his regards."
Then the world exploded in fire and screaming.