Totally tempted to start explaining a lot, or telling you the reasons I'M DOING WHAT I DID with the narrative. But, though, I'll skip all that, as I'm quite aware you'd probably want to get into the story.
All you need to know is: to enjoy the story, you'll need patience. It's slow-paced but not draggy, and it shifts to multiple POVs in the same chapter. I'll end it here.
Do have a good read, and I do hope you love all the characters as I've loved them—maybe even more than I love them… and maybe despise some as well. Whichever it is, I hope you have a good read and that this book sticks with you, makes you scared, troubled, or traumatized, or makes you laugh. Whatever emotions it causes, I hope you do have a good time reading it.
Every other detail will be in the review...
———
Now, this is how the night had been, and there was nothing to suggest that there was something wrong, or otherwise, sinister. The moon had tucked itself behind dark grey clouds. The insects were chirping, and the owls were hooting. Thick fog rose, gathered, and rolled from the valley into the woods.
It was as calm and as chilling as all nights were...
His feet barely touched the earth, and breath escaped his lungs as he dashed through the trees—running from something, someone—falling and getting back up, and falling, and staggering back up.
He leapt down a rocky slope, missed his footing on the landing, and crumpled to his knees.
He grunted.
***
The little girl's eyes glinted off the crackling flame.
The priestess threw a small skull, similar in size to cowries, black and shiny, into the pyre and began a chant. Her eyes snapped open: they were milky and icy white.
"Death," she said, looking up to the roof at nothing, her voice worn and raspy. "I see death."
***
Fogs drifted and divided. She was in the dark, and she held a knife. The man clambered to his feet, legs shaky from fear, eyes widening, face drenched in sweat.
***
"It begins with the death of the fallen," said the priestess. "Then the chaos and downfall of man, for death shall walk upon the earth as a man. And he'll bring along with him his mischief, his lies, and his deceit."
***
He spun and lunged to run, but she hurled the knife and it travelled straight into his back.
He gasped and fell to the ground.
***
"Don't you see anything less worrying?" asked the woman—Helena. "Something about the child?"
"Ah, yes, the child," said the priestess. "She's indeed the devil's born. From hell. He'll come. They'll come for her."
Helena's finger intertwined with the child's hand.
***
Her anklets and bells jingled and tingled as she approached the body. She peered into his face, stared as he struggled for breath, and said, snarkily, "No point fighting it."
Then she knelt down and kissed him on the forehead. "I won't let you die."
She turned him over and pulled the knife out.
He let out a piercing scream that rang through the woods and into the night.
***
The wind burst the door open, slamming it against the wall and snuffing out the pyre's fire.