Souls We Rip

DMR

Copyright © 2026 DMR

Cover by Ann Bugarin(https://annbugarin.com/customs-covers-p)
Chapter dividers: MayPLDigitalArt (https://www.etsy.com/shop/MayPLDigitalArt)
Editor: Loredana Mariana Bublițchi (@bookworm_in_a_cozy_corner)
Map: Delia Paula Balaș (@deliaph.reads)
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted without the written permission of the author.
This book is fiction.
Characters names and the described action are all fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental

To all the dreamers out there,
This is your sign to push forward.

Content warning

This book contains scenes where the characters are mentally and physically abused, fighting scenes, mentions of blood, and death.

Glossary

Țânci – young children

Duhan – tabaco

Bulz – a large bowl of polenta filled with buffalo cheese and meat, usually sausage or any type of pork meat

Bogdaprost – God bless you for it

Cojoace – Thick wool coats

Străchini – Clay bowls, hand– painted with bright colour.

Saint Ilie – Saint Elias

Socată – elderberry juice

Brâu – a Romanian traditional dance for two people, usually a man and a woman.

Mujdei – garlic sauce with water, salt and pepper

Țuică – an alcoholic drink made from plums, apples, pears, etc.

Muroi – In some versions, a moroi is a phantom of a dead person which leaves the grave to draw energy from the living.

Tochitură – It typically consists of slow– cooked meat (usually pork, but sometimes beef or lamb) that's simmered in its own juices along with onions, garlic, and a variety of spices.

Bau – bau – boogey man

Pilaf – rice food with vegetables

Lăutari – musicians

Cuptor – July. Nowadays, it is used Iulie instead of Cuptor

Fota – a short apron that ties at the waist over the skirt

Metanie – a beaded bracelet that is usually given out at monasteries

Brândusa – Crocus, the flower

Crempita/Cremsnit/Cremeș – two layers of puff pastry with vanilla cream between them

Ponevi – woven blankets

Doine – sad songs, usually sung only with the voice

Răpciune – September. Nowadays, it is used Septembrie instead of     Răpciune

Secerar – August. Nowadays, it is used August instead of Secerar. It also means reaping.

Danube – the largest river in Romania

Nedeie – celebration in a village or a small town

Brumărel – October. Nowadays, it is used Octombrie instead of Brumărel

Pogăci – fried pie dough filled with cheese or any other filling

Brumar – November. Nowadays, it is used Noiembrie instead of Brumar

Undrea – December. Nowadays, it is used Decembrie instead of Undrea

Jumări – fried pig fat

Cojoc – sheepskin thick coat

St Mihail and Gavril – St Michael and Gabriel

Sarmale – cabbage rolls, filled with minced meat, rice and different spices

The Goat Man

Someone awakened me from my slumber.

My eyes squinted from the candlelight. It was too bright. My hooves clacked on the stone floor as I rose from the bed, draping the robe over my short dark fur.

Feeling the skull on my head, I readjusted it.

I went to see what lay behind the glass of my mirror.

The Souls’ Mirror.

Intricate craftsmanship decorated the golden frame. Centuries old, it was my only truth in this world.

My Mirror never failed me in showing my foes or the next soul to take. The more, the merrier. The darker, the better.

I have had hundreds of souls taken, each adding to my age. They were all a part of me. I felt all their sorrow and all their happiness, binding them to my eternity.

Each time a mortal thought of me, I walked the earth. And when my story was told, I returned twice more.

The real one.

I tapped with my left hoof on the thin glass once. A powerful light burst within, names written in blood circled in it, belonging to the souls I took.

Names that I didn’t remember. Why would I? They were long forgotten anyway.

Each year at the Girls’ Fair, I took one soul to serve me, and one to add to my age or better said, to satisfy my master. Last year, it was a peasant boy who called me, and he was still my servant.

The other one, I could not name.

That year, I decided to keep my servant, as he was doing a good job at keeping my lair in good condition. Sometimes, I would hear him chirping, seeing him happier in death than in life.

I never engaged with humans. I couldn’t care less, as long as they were healthy and most importantly, evil.

The mirror showed me an image of three women, standing in their kitchen, arranging different dishes. One looked flustered, older, a few strands of hair wet from sweat, falling from her green batik.

The other two, I assumed, were her daughters. One blonde, one dark-haired, milling away in the kitchen, bringing dishes to an iron cart. Their hair was braided, their clothes were dirty from food stains, and each had a smile on their lips. The blonde one asked about my story.

The older woman panicked.

And the dark-haired one wondered.

She awoke me.

Due to her not remembering my story, I could not fulfil my slumber that day.

I pressed my snout on the glass to take a closer look.

Her full lips were wet, her blue eyes glistening. Their colour reminded me of the sky in the spring, fresh air and crystalline rivers. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to recall my history.

She didn’t.

And then their father appeared.

I tilted my head, surprised at his reaction. I was a superstition, according to him.

He looked evil. With his dark eyebrows knitted and his large nostrils flaring, he was a better selection for my soul-ripping than the other one.

Somehow, the vile people live the longest.

I turned my head around to see my faithful servant staring at the girls.

“Does the sight please your weary eyes?” I asked, one of my hooves tapping on the floor. The sound of my voice filled the room, making the boy wince.

“No, sir,” he whimpered.

“Hmm, too bad you cannot reach them, since you’re dead and all…,” I let my words linger. If I was not mistaken, I could see yearning reaching his young face.

I walked towards the bed, leaving my robe on the floor for the boy to clean.

“Wake me up when the time comes, boy,” I said, turning away from him and closing my eyes.

I heard him mumbling about goats leaving me in silence and darkness.

Just as I liked it.

There was a time when emperors ruled the world, where swords were drowned in blood, and love was a scarce memory.

From the blood and memories, he was born.

A legend.

A myth.

An impossibility.

In a world where God was the only one who redeemed souls, a tale of him was a superstition, a story to frighten naughty children.

It had two forms. One of a goat, one of a man.

He was a man with white eyes like a cherub’s wings, dark hair like night and grey skin like dead bodies. But dead, he was not. As he could feel, touch and think. He was made to look but not join. The darkest feeling would fill his heart. Jealousy, retching and crushing crept into his chest.

The only night he wanted to get out was the night between 20th and 21st July. That was when, for years, The Girls’ Fair was taking place on the hill of Găina. Hundreds of young boys and girls would gather to find each other’s soulmate, or, as it is in most cases, a partner for life. Also, to eat, dance and drink in honour of the new pairs.

Because love was difficult to have, to feel, to be fated to.

After all, he was just a man.

And there he was, watching the humans dancing hora, cheering and laughing, whistling and singing for the new couples. Wine was pouring left to right, women losing their inhibitions, men indulging in the views.

But just as he took a step towards the food stalls, a small voice pierced the quiet from behind him.

“Hello.”

He turned around, his dark eyebrows touching his hairline. His head tilted once to the left side and once to the right side.

There was a small boy, his bright eyes roaming over the lean body, covered by a dark cloak.

“Who are you? Why are you not at the celebration?” the boy asked, his tone curious.

“I am not allowed,” he whispered, thoughts of food relinquished.

“Why is that?” the boy insisted.

“I did something bad to my family.”

The boy frowned. “You look like someone who gets in trouble a lot.”

That caught the man by surprise; his laughter was raspy.

But the sound, as rare as it was, frightened people.

Men and women looked his way, curious glances here and there. They did not know about him or what he could do. They only saw a shadow of a man. They only noticed the myth.

“Who’s that?” some whispered as steps moved forward.

As soon as they saw his face, women screamed, children cried, and men hit.

He did not want to go through this again.

He pulled off his cloak, it falling at his feet, revealing his long horns. He stepped over it, hooves replacing feet and hands. With his horns, he slashed their bodies, cutting them in half. Their blood soiled the earth, their cries dying into the night.

Only the children were left untouched. They watched mesmerised as their families’ souls travelled to him, prancing on his hands. He opened his mouth to ingest the souls, his round eyes closing.

With the skull in his hands, he turned towards the children, avoiding their faces. “Tell what happened here today! Let it be my story!”

And with that, he disappeared into thin air, leaving orphans and tears behind.

Ana

My bare feet ran across the wet grass in our yard. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the air was too cold for me to be wearing only a long hemp shirt and wool socks.

The livestock was just waking up when I reached the gate to our vast land, the roosters already spreading the news that a new day was bound to start.

“Hurry up, you silly buffoon, we will miss it!”

My sister, Angelica, was running far too fast for me. Her long blonde hair, like the grain of wheat in the summer, brushed the grass, the tips getting wet.

I ran after her, steam coming from my mouth. “Wait!” I wheezed, but she was far ahead.

We should not have got out of the house. Especially since today was the day of the Girls’ Fair.

It was one of the most important events of the year for eligible daughters and sons to find their lifetime partner. For the past five years, I hadn’t found mine.

Every summer, I would put on my best linen dress, braid my long hair into an intricate style, adding some radish juice to my lips and cheeks. Our mum would cheer me on, saying the next fair would surely be the one when my twenty-three-year-old self would find love. Or at least, a partner for life. That was a wish of my own, as well. A family, with all its joy and penance. My heart could hardly contain how tightly I clung to that wish. I longed for touches under the moon, stolen kisses beneath the sun, for little hands to touch my face and for eternal gratitude.

The truth was, the chances of meeting a kind man were slim. I did not even consider my own father a good man. Indeed, he provided for our family by working hard in the fields. But other than that, we turned our cheeks away.

He used to be happier before my younger sister, Angelica, was born. After, he started drinking at the local inn.

I believe he wanted to have a boy. My mum had a saying: ‘the daughter leaves the home, but the boy stays and takes care of the land, the house and his parents’.

In his eyes, we were never considered capable of doing all the above.

Our parents did try to have more children, but my mum couldn’t carry many of her pregnancies to term, which resulted in my father blaming her for not giving him a son.

“Come on!” my sister shouted from across the hill. “You’ll miss it!”

This was Angelica’s first year at The Girls’ Fair. I was sure she would find a proper man. At the age of eighteen, she was suited to be married and bear children. I hoped she would be happy. She, of all people, deserved to be.

I rushed towards her, climbing the hill, running out of breath.

“A few more steps and you will be in the right place,” she taunted, her hand lifting into the air.

Reaching her side, I clutched my chest, panting. “Next time,” breath, “pick a”, another breath, “lower ground,” and another breath, “please.”

I gripped my shirt and collapsed into the cold weeds.

Her crystalline laughter filled the early morning air. “You should leave reading to those who can see better and move more,” she teased, her tongue pushed into one of her cheeks.

“Hilarious,” I whispered, glancing at the sky.

It was odd seeing the darkness of it fading, revealing the birth of light. Two forces, never meeting, joining in the same sky.

Odd, yet mesmerising.

Angelica’s head was tilted up, her chest moving faster than usual. “You are as exhausted as I am,” I remarked, my breathing slowing.

Her delicate hand slashed the air to dismiss me. “Maybe. If Mum did not give me so much work, I would enjoy the view more.”

In our village, daughters stayed at home with their mothers to keep the household running: feeding animals, preparing food for winter, and even making their own clothes. We worked from dawn till dusk.

We had to. When one of us got married, upon the wedding night, we would receive our dowries. In our case, pieces of land, food, clothing and some coins.

“Look, Ana, it is here,” my sister breathed, her eyes fixed on the sky.

I raised my head towards it and saw perfection.

The sun was coming up behind the next hill, its orange glow cutting through the dark sky. It was surrounded by small stars, the perfect blend of two worlds.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

My sister grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. “I want us to be happy, Ana. Will we be?”

I stared at my little sister’s precious face. Her round brown eyes, her hawkish nose scrunching, and her full cheeks were all lovely features, but the most beautiful of all was her heart.

The kindest soul I had ever known.

“Yes.” I nodded, then squeezed her hand and watched as the night made room for day.

Little blades of grass tickled my thighs, and to welcome the sensation, I pressed my skin harder against them.

I was already happy. It did not bother me to still be at home with my family, even if this cast a shadow on my parents’ faces. The books that Teacher Alexandru gave me from the local school kept me company when I had a moment to rest from all the chores.

My mum had always encouraged us to read. She couldn’t do that for herself, so she wanted what was best for us. She was the reason I spent time at school, learning under the guidance of Teacher Alexandru. But every good thing that happened in our lives was always overshadowed by my father.

“I so want to get married,” my sister declared, her hands clenched in fists.

“And you will,” I giggled.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked me as she stood up, already starting downhill.

I followed her on the way home; people were already working around their households.

“Love,” I answered, watching my feet.

She cackled, turning towards me, her blonde hair swishing into the air.

“Do you think you will find love?” she inquired, spinning with her arms open.

I tilted my head, my brows joining. “What do you mean?”

She stopped spinning and placed one hand on her forehead. “I don’t think we need to dream of love, Ana. For me, happiness means being stable. A good husband, not like our father. I want us to respect each other and raise our household together.”

My sister, the practical one.

“Let me ask you this, sister,” I said, walking next to her, “how do you know the man you meet at the fair will not be like our father?”

She pouted her thin lips. “I already have my eyes on someone.”

“Have you?” I stomped forward with a tension in my neck. “Who?” My voice turned into a shout, the cows and sheep prepared pasture, turning in my direction.

Angelica twirled, her index finger pressed to her lips.

I did not want my little sister to end up with a partner the same as our father or worse. When he drank, he would become a whole different person.

One time, he took a few sheep and killed them all in a fit of rage because our mum had not finished sewing his shirts.

Then he hit her.

It was the first time. But not the last.

By the time we got into our village, the roosters were crowing, cows were mooing, and carts were rolling along the pebble streets.

“We should hurry, or people will see us dressed like…”

“Like what? Whores?” my sister cooed, puffing up her chest.

I nodded and hurried my feet to get to our home.

As we reached the wooden gate, our dog Azor started barking, his small paws rushing towards us.

“Hush, dog! You’ll wake them up,” my sister whisper-shouted.

As soon as we hit the porch of our house, we heard the large barn door open.

Angelica darted through the main door of the house, and I followed her to our room.

It was a small chamber with two beds covered in ponevi, their large, complicated floral patterns covering most of the surface, and large feather pillows. The room was illuminated by a tiny wooden window, though the glass was still dirty as we did not have the time to clean it after the last rain. The walls were decorated with a wallpaper my mum ordered from one of our neighbours; blue and white swirls rising from the floor to the ceiling.

The door squeaked as I pushed the handle, and the warmth finally settled into my bones. I jumped into bed, high from all the blankets mum had placed on it.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we still have to help Mum with the food and feed the animals before we bathe. We have to make ourselves look pretty for the fair,” my sister chastised, placing her hands on her hips.

“You really want to leave this house, hm?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

Angelica sat on her bed, just as high as mine, and tilted her head. “I don’t want to leave you and Mum. But… I want to make my own future,” she said, her voice raspy, eyes watery.

I stood up and hugged her. “If you say that this is what will make you happy, then I am fully by your side. And who knows, maybe this year I would meet my fated one, too.”

I felt her chin nodding against my shoulder, her graceful fingers squeezing it lightly.

We allowed ourselves one more minute, and then we dressed. I pulled another hemp shirt over my head, my wide, pleated skirt made by my grandmother and slipped my pointy opinci onto my bare feet.

The rubber shoes were the greatest footwear for any weather. Being sunny, rainy, or icy, they would support our feet during daily labour.

Even if the morning-cool air cut through my skin, in the afternoon, when the sun would be at the top of the sky, the heat would boil us.

Over the shirt and skirt, I added my labour apron, a simple grey fabric, which paled next to the good one I wore for Sunday sermons. That apron was special. The bottom of it was ornate with cipcă, crocheted by my mum, golden flowers decorating the sides of it, matching the waistband.

“GIRLS!”

Speaking of our mum, her sweet voice burst into the house, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

She opened the door, making a face at the sound of the hinges. “I’ve told Anghel a hundred times to repair this. But all he ever does is…” She peered at us, the small frown between her blonde eyebrows disappearing. “Girls, let’s make haste! We have a lot of work to do!” She was dressed simply like us, but her hair was tucked beneath a batik.

I rushed to lace my opinci and kissed her on her cheek.

“Your lips are cold, Ana. Have you two been out again?” She placed her hands on her hips, her blue eyes moving from me to my sister.

When we did not answer, she shook her head and scratched her nose. “I do not have the time for this today, we will talk about your early walks after the Fair!” She pointed one finger at us, then turned to leave, but not before giving us more chores than it was planned.

“Ah! We won’t have time to braid my hair!” Angelica cried.

“We will if we hurry!”

I rushed to the yard, taking all the empty iron buckets from last night’s milk collection and walked towards the barn, where my father was cleaning the cows’ stables.

“Good morning, father!” I quipped, getting ready to milk the first cow.

He grunted, the smell of duhan filling my nostrils.

I started working, the cow a little too impatient.

“Calm down, please,” I whispered to it, its tail wagging.

The buckets were filled in no time, and I carried them one by one to the kitchen, where I had to store the milk in large aluminium cans. With the milk, we would make butter and fresh or smoked cheese to sell in the village or different markets.

Afterwards, Angelica and I fed the chickens and roosters, spreading wheat and corn all around their small coop. Both of us then went to help our mother with the food for the Fair. The smell of mămăligă and fried sausages filled the air as we stepped into the steaming-hot kitchen.

The wooden oven worked continuously for the last two days since mum started baking different types of sweets: sugar candies, milk candies and her famous waffle dessert filled with buttercream.

“Go and stir the mămăligă, so it doesn’t burn,” my mum instructed Angelica while she was cutting the tomatoes.

“What is it that I must do?” I asked, eyeing the sugar candies.

“Start preparing the cheese for the bulz.” Her head tilted to the cold room where we kept all the dairy products.

The house was made of dirt, wood and clay, enabling us not to die from the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter. It allowed us to keep sensitive heat products in the shadiest room, without altering their taste and form.

I brought the fresh batch of cheese and sour cream from the cămară, our coldest chamber.

The large wooden table was filled with străchini, intricate designs painted on the brown clay, ready for the bulz to fill them.

Angelica brought the steaming hot mămăligă, placed it in each of the străchini, being careful not to burn herself. I added meat, cheese and sour cream.

“Do you remember the story our grandmother used to tell us when we were țânci?” Angelica asked, pouring the second layer of mămăligă over the mixture.

I shook my head. “No. There were too many, anyway.” I finished with another layer of cheese and let that melt over the hot dish. My mum handed me a plate filled with fried eggs, her eyes wary between us two.

Angelica assessed our work and, with a nod, she placed the pots into the iron cart. Her hands moved more slowly than usual, careful not to break the bowls.

“The story about the Goat Man,” she recalled, placing a finger on her lips.

“DO NOT MENTION HIM!” my mum yelled from the threshold of the door.

We both stared at her red face, widened eyes and tense shoulders. Then we looked at each other, not knowing why she was reacting this way.

I, for one, did not remember a single word from the story.

My mum stepped closer to us and put a hand on our shoulders. “This day is as special for it as it is for us. Believe me, I do not want to even hear a word about that creature!”

Her eyes looked vacant for a second, as she remembered something from the far past.

“Mum, what is it?” I asked, her pale face scaring me.

She shook her head and squeezed our shoulders. “Just don’t think about it, and we will be fine!” She was trying to smile, but it didn’t reach her sky-blue eyes.

“Enough with the superstitions, woman! And get to work!”

My father stood at the door, one hand on the threshold, his fingers tapping on it. His long nose was scrunched in disgust. His dark eyes spoke louder than his hurtful words, making my body shake.

We resumed our preparation, but I still wondered. What story about the Goat Man can make my mother react that way?

Who was the Goat Man?

Ana

The water glided off my shoulder, washing the foam from my mum’s homemade soap, whose flowery fragrance would last for the entire night. Placing the water ceramic jug on the grass, I stepped out of the trough. The soft breeze touched my body as I pulled on my linen dress.

Droplets of water dripped from my hands, falling on the grass, resembling the morning dew in my wake.

After bathing myself, I stepped through the narrow corridor of the house. Halting one second, I admired the picture of The Ox Cart. My mum acquired it at a fair before Angelica and I were born, to bring colour into her house. It wasn’t the real painting, but a reproduction, admired by every neighbour who crossed our threshold.

I always imagined the man who wielded the cart to be my father. It had the same type of hat, the same brown coat, but instead of two oxen, our cart had two horses.

Passing by the kitchen, which was empty, my feet carried me straight to our room.

The hand-woven wool carpet brushed my toes. It depicted a large yellow flower in the middle of it, its petals falling on the edges.

Angelica’s slender body spun around, her feet ready to dance the night away.

“What are you going to wear?” I asked, taking my long hair and making two braids out of it. Securing them with the only two silk ribbons I had, I watched as the sun started to hide itself.

“This dress,” she wheezed. Angelica inhaled, stopping herself from prancing, holding a dress with embroidered birds on its waist.

I helped my sister take off her garments and pulled the strings to make it look slimmer. Not that she needed it.

She inhaled once loudly, and as soon as I finished with the dress’s strings, she started to swirl around the room again.

“You will get dizzy if you do not stop,” my mum chastised, but on her lips grew the most warming smile. Her sun-kissed skin crinkled as her sky-blue eyes watched my sister trying to braid her own hair.

“Let me help you,” I said, following her through the chamber.

She turned this into a game of chase and started laughing.

“You’ll get sweaty, girls!” Even my mum didn’t take herself seriously then, joining our laughter.

We circled the room for a good amount of time until both of us were left breathless.

My eyes stopped on the large map of our country, Romania. Its yellow paper was worn out by time. The brown of the mountain was replaced by a faded ivory. When we received the map, Angelica and I promised ourselves that we would visit our land. She mentioned the Goat Meadow and the Hollowing Waterfall from the Bucegi Mountains, to breathe the fresh air and to drink the coldest of waters. I would have loved to arrive at the sea in the Constanţa area. I could only imagine how the salt would cling. In the end, it would be just a dream. Angelica would get married, thus leaving us behind. Leaving our dreams to die.

Without a doubt, our father would have dragged us back by the hair. We couldn’t find work either. Nobody hired women unless for serving in a tavern filled with males like my father or selling their bodies.

Shaking my head from the horrors passing through my mind, I went to my sister and gave her a kiss on her forehead. “Now, can I help you?”

Her smile touched my heart. She was the most astonishing young woman in the village.

Even if we sold produce at the market, we wouldn’t be able to buy the livestock that would help us have revenue.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and plastered a smile on my lips. Braiding her hair, I noticed a red mark on the back of her neck. Memories from two nights ago flooded in when Angelica and I forgot to close the horses.

He did that… Maybe it was a good thing if Angelica left the house. She could finally be safe.

I secured Angelica’s hair with a red ribbon my mum dyed last week with radish juice.

“You two are my most prized gift of all time. You are the air that I breathe, remember this, my sweet, loving daughters.”

I forgot that Mum stood in the threshold, watching us. Her blue eyes were filled with unshed tears, with love on full display.

Her blonde hair was tied back in a single braid. The garments she wore had darker colours than ours, her vest did not have any embellishment, and her skirt looked ragged. She always used to tell us that it was better for us to be dressed as she was already married.

To the devil himself.

That was what Angelica always said. My heart always clenched when the Red One was mentioned. It was as though we would invite him into our house.

Every time I went to church to confess my sins, Father Neagu would listen to my darkest thoughts. They always involved my father. I never wished him misfortune, just for him to leave us alone.

Father Neagu told me that I could step away from my faith, thinking such ideas. He would always give me prayers to say at night, which would help my mind and soul to repent.

I smiled at my mum and went to hug her lean body, her arms wrapping around both of us.

My sister and I loved her so much that we tried our best to avoid Father’s wrath for her. She was the one we could go and cry to for any tiny reason, and she would always have a piece of advice for us.

My eyes glanced over the only clock in our house. Its golden-painted wood was gleaming in the afternoon sun, announcing that we would be late if we didn’t hurry.

“Are you ready? I don’t understand why you would use your best clothes for this day! Not even your sister could turn a man’s head. What makes you think you would do any better?”

My heart jumped at hearing my father’s voice and belittlement. I broke the hug with my sister and my mum, and I didn’t dare look at him.

I caught a glimpse of Angelica. The disappointment in her eyes said more words than any of us. Her mouth started trembling, and she turned her back on us, her shoulders shaking.

“Let’s go ahead, Anghel. The girls are still getting dressed,” my mum said, her voice soft, as it always was when trying to avoid his wrath.

“And who the hell is going to help us carry all the unnecessary food you prepared, hm? Out of my pocket!”

I looked at him. His linen trousers were dirty from the morning's work, and his wide leather belt was stained with mud. Even his tall boots weren’t spotless. The only pristine piece of his clothing was his hat. Dark with colourful beads attached to it, a gift from my grandmother.

The only thing in the house he thought was precious.

I saw my mum’s face crumple, her eyes going to her feet, touching repeatedly the stiff, ironed skirt.

“I will,” I quipped, rushing to grab my opinci, which I had cleaned a while ago.

My father grunted about being irresponsible and ungrateful brats, grabbed my mum’s arm and got out of the house.

Taking my embellished waistband and securing it on the dress, I turned to Angelica. Her face was red from crying, and her eyes were swollen.

“Don’t listen to him, Angelica! You’re the most beautiful, smart, kind and loyal girl in the village. You will get married, and you will have the life you dream of,” I assured her. She was staring at the place where my father had left.

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she threw herself into my arms. “I cannot believe that the man who gave us life behaves like this… I cannot love such a man, Ana.” Her voice broke at my name, her body started shaking again. She sniffed, her eyebrows furrowed. “If the man I marry is a good man, I will take you and mum away from here!”

My hands touched her shoulders, breaking the embrace. I brushed her tears off her face with my thumbs. Her idea warmed my heart. However, it was just an idea, as all of them were.

My father was the only one who could work for our family. Our mum tried to sell her food at markets, but she would be dragged back home and placed behind a spade or a shovel. We could not win.

Still, I smiled and nodded, placing her braid over one shoulder. “Let’s go,” I urged, grabbing my shoes and going out the door.

The lump in my neck would not go away, making me imagine all sorts of scenarios.

I couldn’t distinguish between all the feelings that were trying me. Fear that neither of us would get married, and the excitement that we would attend another Girls’ Fair. That, for a few hours, we could enjoy ourselves.

Or the feeling that something was about to happen.

Getting out of the house, I admired once more what our small farm looked like. The main house was larger than a hut, the three tiny wood-framed windows covering almost half of the exterior wall. My father’s grandparents built this house when they were younger; back then, it was the newest in the village.

Before my mum moved in, the roof was covered by wheat straws, which were stomped on with the feet. But those were replaced by thick, red tiles.

On my right was the food pantry and the summer kitchen, where chickens roamed free in search of food. The barn was next to their coop, together with the firewood, which would get delivered at the end of the summer.

I went straight to the summer kitchen and took each wicker basket with the food my mum cooked and loaded it one by one into the cart. The hot air of summer touched my skin, beads of sweat from the effort appearing on my forehead.

“Move faster!” my father shouted at me from the barn, loading a fresh batch of hay for the cows. “Not that you’ll get married,” he laughed, the sound making me writhe in my own skin.

Swallowing, I grabbed the last two baskets and placed them as well as I could in the cart.

The same baskets were borrowed by our neighbour when her husband passed away. For the wake, my mum cooked so much food that it lasted until the funeral, which took place three days after. For every child that passed the threshold, my mum, Angelica, and I would give caramels, saying bogdaproste.

We had to carry the baskets to the church, where the sermon took place. At some point, every person had to kiss my neighbour’s husband’s body, as a final goodbye, before lowering him to the grave. Everyone from the village threw me, and Angelica looks, because we wouldn’t do it.

Even Father Neagu watched us as if we had committed the greatest of sins. Seeing his dark eyes, I swallowed and kissed the hand of the dead, not wanting to offend anyone.

I bristled, remembering the iciness of the skin. Since then, I couldn’t attend any other funeral.

The wooden planks that sustained the passenger benches squeaked under my feet as I ascended into the cart. Angelica followed, taking a seat opposite me. Her eyes were still red, but her nose was no longer runny.

I couldn’t say any comfort words to her as my father was circling the cart, checking the wheels. He mumbled about too much food, holding his cigarette between his lips. With the corner of my eye, I noticed my mum’s shoulders straightening.

How much this woman has endured...

Two horses were tied to the cart, their neighing covering my father’s foul words.

They were dressed to the nines as well. Their mane was brushed and decorated with red bands on which were pinned blue, yellow and red tassels.

My father took the whip, and the horses started their trot.

With one swift move, Angelica moved onto my bench. “Do you think he is right?” she whispered in my ear.

The cart wobbled on the pebbles, moving us from left to right. I shook my head once, my eyes on my father’s nape.

“No, I do not think that, and I never will,” I replied, my voice barely audible. My eyes tracked as the other neighbours loaded their own carts, but not many had daughters who had to be wed.

From our village, Angelica and I were the last ones.

The houses passed by quickly, their tiny windows reflecting the sun in them. Our neighbours were watching our cart from their porches, some leaning on the wooden pillars, and some waving at us from their yards.

My gaze moved to my sister as a small smile broke over her lips.

“As long as we are together, Ana, we will be just fine,” she says, her eyes roaming over my face.

“We will be just fine,” I echoed, my hand covering hers.

I prayed for Angelica to Saint Ana, to find a good husband who would respect her and cherish her soul. I prayed for myself. To live my life, to find love and to be loved in return.

Ana

My father stopped the cart and tied the horses to a wooden pole. Without even sparing us a glance, he went straight to his fellows. His droopy eyes, upturned lips and flushed cheeks were a sign that my father was already drunk.

I heard my mum sigh and shuffle to the place she rented for the Girls’ Fair. The sound of instrumental music played over the fields. The creaks from the cart were muted by the bagpipes, flute and violin. Looking around, many people would come from all over the county to see their sons and daughters find their betrothed.

“Come, girls,” said my mum, grabbing one of the heavy soup jugs.

Angelica and I descended from the cart and unloaded all the baskets, sweat already falling on my spine.

As our mum arranged the străchini and the large jugs with soup, I took two pitchers with cold river water for the horses. My fingers brushed their mane and turned around. Eyes widening, I took a step next to my sister, who mirrored my expression.

Before us, at our mum's stand, were so many men and women asking and paying for her food. My heart grew because she deserved everything that was happening to her in that moment.

My mum had a wish to earn her own money, which, by the sight of it, had been granted. Even if we knew how to turn the raw wool into socks, cojoace and even blankets, the process behind it was tedious. The wool needed to be stretched and cleaned, but my mum saw that it got done. After dyeing them with alder bark, my parents would sell them at the market alongside smoked or fresh cheese. She would put something aside for us, together with the money we would earn through selling the fresh milk in the village.

For our dowry, if it would ever get used.

Our mum started shouting her listings, as we all did when we had fairs or had to sell our produce in the market.

As my sister and I joined in my mum’s cries, people crowded in front of the food stall, some of them pushing with their elbows.

“We’ve made enough food for everyone,” I shouted politely. “Please, either form a line or wait your turn.” I smiled at them, grateful that they would buy my mum’s cooking. “And thank you!”

She dismissed us from there with her hands. “Go, girls! I can handle it,” she urged, waving her hands to us. “I will grab your father when the time comes.” Her hands were already busy collecting the străchini.

“Are you sure?” I asked, concerned she couldn’t serve the wave of people demanding food.

I knew my mum’s dishes would attract more customers than my father had supposed. She was the light of our life; of course, she cooked as such.

My eyes searched for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. With my heart in trenches, I looked again at my mum, whose eyebrows were knitted.

“I raised you two, kept a home going and still managed to cook. Now, go!”

Angelica and I laughed, then ran away to the top of the hill where the music, young girls and boys were. Our feet were exhausted from the effort, the sunset warming our faces.

“A black cat!” my sister shouted, already taking three steps back.

I started to do the same, but someone bumped into me, pushing me to the side. “Sorry,” I mumbled, forgetting everything about the bad luck a black cat can bring. Wincing, I touched my shoulder.

Looking around, my eyes fell on the aflame candles inside glass jars. They were strung by a thick wire, forming a circle in the middle of the hill. On the grass were placed wool rugs, so we wouldn’t hurt our feet while dancing. Or when the time came to be picked by our fated one. If we had any.

A dance of hora was taking place right on the rugs. The men were jumping up and down, hitting their boots on the ground, while whistling. The girls were swirled from side to side, their skirts rustled around their ankles, creating white circles.

I grabbed Angelica’s hand, pulling her towards the only refreshments table, where our friend and neighbour, Gavril, was setting up his homemade socată.

He was in love with my sister ever since they were running around in puddles, trying to make each other fall in them and get all muddy and wet. Usually, the valley was filled with their giggles anytime it rained.

Not many people were waiting in Gavril’s line, the majority of the men preferring țuica or pălinca, from the opposite side of the meadow.

Gavril finished with the children who had requested socată, giving them large mugs filled with the delicious beverage. The elderberry juice sloshed over the containers' rims, the youngster starting to laugh.

When he noticed us, a bright smile spread over his lips. His usual rosy cheeks became crimson as we approached his stand.

“H-i,” he babbled, dropping the small decanter on the ground.

This earned him a frown from his father. We greeted both and, with shaking hands, we were served by Gavril with two glasses of socată.

“Have you set your eyes on someone, Gavril?” my sister asked, feigning ignorance at the young man’s behaviour.

My sister never told me if she fancied him or not, but from the long blinks and fugitive smiles, I guessed she did.

“Y-y-yes, I t-t-think so,” his lips trembled, but his dark eyes stayed fixed on my sister. Gavril’s cheeks turned red as ripe tomatoes, getting a smile out of me.

I pretended not to notice Angelica’s blush. I turned my head around and smiled, because if Gavril did stick with his plans, then Angelica and he would make the best couple.

“I’ll take a look around,” I said to my sister, whose attention was snagged by Gavril. I kept my laughter in my throat, and I kissed her cheek.

The orchestra played beneath the burning candles, its dulcimer’s tune filling the meadow with inviting tunes. Men stretched their hands to their wives, inviting them to a dance of brâu. The hum of chatter reached my ears, my heart swelling in my chest. It filled with joy when people laughed, cherishing the simple things in life. I relished in these rare events, a drop of passion in my quiet life.

One young man invited a girl to dance, placing his palms over her waist. She then put hers on his shoulders and started spinning on the rhythm of the music.

From where I was standing, the song was hard to hear due to the chattering of people. I walked among them, mesmerised by everyone’s joy, in search of the hypnotising musical notes.

The smell of the wild summer flowers floated to my nostrils, and I inhaled. Summer was my favourite season, even if there was much more work to do around the house than in the winter. The air was warmer, the clothing was thinner, and the people enjoyed life more.

“Ana!” someone hollered, and I turned towards the voice.

Mara, my childhood friend, had her free hand in the air. She was already married with two children around her hip. When we were eighteen, she found her husband, a man who sold vegetables at the market and ground flour at his mill. He was the person my father had been competing with for a very long time. Every time my father returned home from the market, he would grab my mum by the hair and pull, yelling that this young man had stolen his clients.

As if it were either of our faults for every misfortune of his.

I admired Mara's fine clothes. The red and gold vest and apron, her hand-sewn, ie with floral motifs. Her hair was braided in a bun at the nape of her neck, some of the strands pulled by one of her twins.

“Yes! Do you mind holding one of the boys?” she asked, already passing one of her toddlers to me.

I didn’t mind. I liked children, and each time I got to see her twins was a gift for me. Life until then didn’t give me a man with whom I might have my own, so I indulged in every interaction with any child.

Sourness filled my heart for a brief second.

“Hello, young man! You’ve grown so big since I last saw you!” My voice went on a higher note, turning into a baby voice. He laughed, the bell-like sound sending my heart into a rampage.

The boy smiled with a full mouth of small teeth, his green eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Yes, they are little terrors. But they are my sun and my moon, so I cannot do anything about that,” she joked, kissing the other twin on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to tickle the little boy, but he kept wiggling.

“My husband wanted to come to check your mother’s food. He wants to help the priest from our village to open a house for the needy men and women, widows, orphans, and he was wondering if your mother would want to deliver her food every day.”

My father was in the wrong. Mara’s husband did not steal anything from him. He was gaining his customers with kindness. And to involve my mum in a thing she would never say no to…

“I think she would be delighted!” I shrilled, scaring the boy I was holding. “Sorry,” I whispered, then tickled him some more, his laughter filling my ears.

“Thank God, because you know, your father was not the easiest person to deal with,” she said, avoiding my eyes.

I knew that well.

I just smiled and resumed my games with the boy.

Around us, the people were starting to gather in the middle of the hill. The girls stood in one line, and the boys stood on the opposite side.

“You'd better get going, if you are still…” She stopped herself, her eyes flickering with pity.

I nodded, passing her the boy I was holding. “I’m here more for Angelica. She is of age this year.”

“But you?” she asked with her eyebrows raised.

“If God permits, I will find a husband too,” I shrug. But I knew my heart and mind all too well.

I bid her goodbye and ran to find my sister, trying to ignore the voice in my head. That this is all in vain for me.

Angelica and Gavril were still talking when I returned to the beverage stall. They were blushing at each other; starry looks were thrown between them. Gavril was ignoring a group of women wearing dark batiks on their heads, demanding elderberry juice, but the boy only had eyes for my sister.

I knew that both my sister and Gavril would be the talk of the village from tomorrow on. The old ladies wouldn’t miss a chance to gossip in front of their houses. If one needed information about someone, they were the right people to ask.

“Aren’t you going?” I asked as soon as I reached them. My hands fretted on the skirt, seeing Gavril’s father taking his place at the till.

My sister twisted to me, a full smile spread all over her face. Her wheat-blonde hair shone in the sundown, and her cheeks were rosier than peonies. “No need.”

I knitted my eyebrows, watching both youngsters as they gazed into each other’s eyes. I fixed Gavril with my eyes.

“Did you propose?” I asked.

“Yes!”

Hugging both, I couldn’t believe my sister’s luck. She will have her happy life! At least some of my prayers were heard.

My eyes travelled quickly to the sky, muttering a thank you to God.

“Mum is going to be so happy!” I chuckled, imagining our mum’s face lighting up when Angelica and Gavril would tell her the news.

“You’re right!” realised Angelica, her head tilted. “We have to let her know!” She grabbed Gavril’s hand, turning his face redder than a fresh strawberry and pulled him downhill, getting lost in the sea of people.

I wanted to follow them, but the sound of an oboe announced that it was time to see if I would get out of our childhood home or not.

I pushed all my worst feelings back in the cage and dragged my legs, one shaky step at a time.

Every young girl was wearing her best dress, each one more intricately embroidered than the other. Some of them seemed to be bought from the cities, the quality of the fabrics standing out.

Some of the richest had even vests made out of velvet, a rare sight in my village. Others, who were younger than I, wore batiks or shawls over their head. My mum said that we should do the same, but only in church. To cover our hair was a sign of piety.

Most of the boys, on the other hand, wore their labour clothes. No one batted an eye at their dishevelled look. Their trousers had smudges of dirt, their belts were worn out, and their vests and hats were eaten by moths.

The marriage market began at the third note of the oboe.

First were the eighteen-year-old girls and boys. If neither of the boys showed interest in the girls, then the next row of them would move up, until the boys were four years older than the girls.

And so on.

I stood in my row, with only three other girls my age, looking like they wanted to dig holes in the ground and hide from the world.

My head was held high as it came to our turn, hours later. The night had already set in, the stars replacing the clouds.

With only five men left, I did not feel an ounce of captivation. A couple of them, I knew from our village. They were nothing more than deadbeats.

One man stood in front of me and looked into my eyes. I cowered before his gaze, afraid that he would see my disdain. The plum aroma of țuică flew to my nostrils, making me bristle.

His boots were dirty as were his trousers. His hands were clenched. “You’re Anghel’s older daughter?” he asked, his voice scratching my ears.

“Yes.” I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible.

“Do you spend your days at the inn too?” His eyes roamed over my body, and I thanked God I put on a thicker petticoat.

“No.”

His laughter resounded, turning a number of heads towards us.

“A shame, because,” he mused, his voice drawling, “you have the face for it!”

Bile rose to my mouth as his hand stretched to touch my shoulder; a sign he chose me as his future wife. In a flash, I could imagine what my life looked like.

Beaten, bearing children, no respect and many tears.

Another burst of laughter, and this time someone joined, making me squirm in my own skin.

Wind rustled my skirt, the tune of the song growing weaker with each musical note. The candles strung above our heads flickered, their flame more blue than orange. Out of nowhere, screams pierced the night.

“IT’S HIM! RUN!” a girl shouted in front of us.

I turned my head left and right for my family, but neither of them was there.

Commotion started around me, girls running around screaming at the top of their lungs or boys shuffling to see what was happening. But to me, the deep sigh I took was from relief.

That I wouldn’t have to marry the man who stood in front of me.

Instead of helping or even running away, he pushed me to the ground, darting in the opposite direction. I tried to stand up, but people were stomping on me, not hearing my cries. My back ached from their feet, and seeing that they did not care, I covered my head.

All of a sudden, a loud neigh silenced the hoard of people. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. Mist surrounded the top of the hill, killing in its wake the wildflowers. Drenching everything of life.

Through the sea of people, I noticed my mum, frozen with terror. I pumped my legs to get to her. Her eyes were fixed on something behind me, but I couldn’t turn to verify what it was.

People pushed me to get away. Wincing, I moved forward, my hands stretched. As soon as I reached my mother, my fingers touched her cold skin. My heartbeat increased as panic rose in me.

“What is happening?” Angelica came next to me, her eyes roaming over our mum’s face. She turned her sharp eyes towards me. “What happened to you? You have blood on your shirt.”

I looked down, and there were two drops of blood, but it wasn’t mine.

Gazing over the place I stood before, I saw the man who mocked me drowned in a pool of blood. I averted my eyes, not used to seeing this type of brutality.

Chaos erupted again, people running around in circles, like they forgot where they were and what they could do.

“Let’s go,” I implored, trying to move my mother from the spot she seemed glued to. “Mum, please!” I whined and pulled her hands. But she wouldn’t step away.

Boys and girls started to push us further, but my mum was frozen in place. She was mumbling something, which I could not comprehend. I got closer to her lips, trying to listen.

“It’s him... It’s him... It’s him...”

“Who?” My voice was hoarse from yelling; the urgency in me sent waves through my brain. We had to leave this place.

With the corner of my eye, I saw my father wobbling across the hill. His precious hat was nowhere to be seen, his shirt was free of the belt and unlaced at the neck.

“Move her somehow, please,” I begged Angelica and sprinted to my father.

I was herded by the crowd downhill, but I pushed forward, hitting and stomping to get to him, my lower back pulsing with pain.

Before I could reach him, I stopped, gasping.

The largest horse I have ever seen stood between my father and me. Its dark skin shone in the night sky, its black mane and tail reaching the ground. When the stallion opened its mouth, it wasn’t the stench that pushed me back. It was the fangs, sharp as needles and stained with blood.

I took a step away, mesmerised by its beauty.

But then, the biggest horror dismounted the horse.

I remembered the story.

Ana

Its horns were the first things I noticed. The moonlight made them shine as if they were polished. Both were long as night and sharp as its horse’s teeth. The creature was tall as an old fir, its age endless.

The Goat Man.

Eternity tightened into a single creature; a nightmare to be in its presence. I could feel on my skin the countless souls it took. The story that surrounded him was gruesome. And I realised then that I might be witness to it becoming reality.

It fixed me with its white eyes, remarkable under the long goat skull. They unnerved me, but I could not deny that there was an evident allure about them.

They were like beacons in the darkness.

My heart was pounding, and the hairs on my body stood on end. My eyes widened, perusing its body. Instead of legs and hands, it had hooves.

A simple, black cloak hid the body, its train trailing over the grass as the beast started to move away from the horse. Its smell of wax and old books filled my senses.

It took me a second to realise that the creature was walking towards my father. I tried running towards them, but the horse pulled up its upper lip, revealing its fangs.

“Father!” I shouted, my eyes trying to find a way around the horse. My chin began to tremble as more cries for attention escaped my lips.

The brute didn’t even turn; it was advancing on my father.

“Please! I beg of you, don’t take him!” My hands clutched the dress’s neckline, my fingers gripping it tightly.

My father didn’t pay attention to the creature that drifted closer to him. He waved his hands at me as I disturbed him. His eyes were droopy, the alcohol haze numbing his senses.

I heard feet running towards me. My family joined me in begging the creature to spare him. At the sound of our chorus, it half turned.

The goat skull assessed all of us over its broad shoulder. “You want to save this man?”

Its voice was like the wind, travelling from ear to ear with its tone rough and sombre.

“Yes!” we answered in chorus.

Its body twisted fully to us, covering my father.

“Do you, his wife, want him to live?”

I heard my mum swallowing, her eyes widening. “Y-yes, I do,” she whispered.

The brute tilted his head. “Do you, his younger daughter, want him to live?”

She looked from me to my mum, her eyebrows joining, forming a little line between them.

“Angelica…” I pleaded.

Her hands started to shake. “Yes.”

I breathed loudly, sweat dampening my upper lip.

“And you…his oldest daughter, do you want him,” the creature stood aside so I could see my father, “to live?” It leaned its head to the left and then to the right.

My father regarded me, his upper lip turned in disgust.

“Yes.”

Feeling my mum’s body slump next to me, I caught her in my arms. Her chest was barely rising, the colour from her cheeks draining, leaving ashy skin in its wake.

It assessed us, one more time, before speaking. “Too bad that he is not worthy of you. His soul is the evilest of them all. It will be mine!”

The air shifted when it turned towards my father, the latter finally noticing who stood before him and started to scream at the top of his lungs.

“NO! Please, take me instead!”

At the sound of my own voice, everything turned into darkness. The candles erupted in the air, the glass jars shattered, leaving broken pieces across the meadow.

The tables and rugs broke in thin air, spreading their pieces in front of us. The ground rattled once, twice, as the Goat Man watched me.

I felt the brute’s anger, crawling on my skin. Its wrath pulled me one step towards it and my father, but the horse stood vigil.

Both my mum’s and my sister’s heads snapped, their eyes drenched in fear as they met my demeanour.

“What are you doing?” my sister shouted over the commotion.

At once, everything stopped.

The brute’s train flowed in the hot breeze, blending with the darkness that surrounded us.

“You want to give me your soul willingly, for him?” Its voice caressed our bodies, heat and cold hitting us at once.

“Yes!” I shouted, fixing my eyes on my family.

I placed my mum’s stone-hard body into my sister’s arms. I kissed both their foreheads. “I love you very much,” I whispered to them.

My mum’s gaze moved from me to my father, her hand stretching to mine. It was shaking as if she had a fever.

“Don’t sacrifice yourself for him, Ana. Please, you are young and strong…”

Yes, I was. But I was also aware that my mum could not live without his work.

“My love for both of you and Angelica is endless. Without him, winter will devour us,” I explained, feeling the salty taste of my tears on my lips. “Pray for my soul, Mum. Pray to meet you once again in Paradise.”

“We will be parted for a little while, but we will meet again in God’s eternity, with the promise that the Saviour Himself made: ...because I live, and you shall live,” we said at once.

Rusty laughter came from behind me and grated on my nerves. Whatever might happen to me in Heaven, I knew that my belief in God would be rewarded.

But the brute will have to live with its sins.

“Ana, please,” Angelica whispered.

I hugged them one more time, and I turned. Walking towards its horse, I willed my tears to stop.

At once, the stallion backed away, allowing me to pass.

It snorted in my ear, the sound making me jump. I let my hair be sniffed, and then it took another step back.

Its large body slumped between my family and me, creating a barrier between two worlds.

My feet carried me closer to them, my heart bruising my chest with its pounding.

The one who should have protected us, the one who should have stayed between us and evil, was looking at me as though I were a stranger. My father’s dark eyes blinked with his nostrils flaring, and his upper lip curled up close to his nose.

And still, I had two other persons to save.

“I give my life for my father,” I stated, my voice loud enough to make the creature tremble.

“So, you said.” Its voice lingered on my body, my legs shaking from its tone.

I took another step further, feeling its eyes on me. “Please, leave him be!” My eyes darted to my father; his skin was paler than the moon, but the curled lip was still there.

Its laughter stretched the time and space, an earthquake in the making. “I do not receive orders from a peasant, woman! Come closer, I want to see you.”

My feet started walking, pulled by its voice. The breeze lightly touched the seams of my dress, raising it above my ankles.

Whimpers came from behind me, but they were muted by the stomping of the horse. The ground shattered in two, separating me from my family.

I stopped walking and whirled around to see them.

My mum fell to her knees, eyes closing. Angelica didn’t know where to look, either to my mum or me. Sighing, I resumed my ascent.

I stopped in front of the creature. The skull was larger than I thought, its horns pointier than the horse’s fangs. With a swoosh of his hooves, my braids were untied, my long ebony hair touching the grass at my heels.

Its white eyes seemed endless from the distance I put between us. And I could still feel them roaming from my toes to my hair. It studied every inch of me, as if the wild creature could know whether my soul was worthy of taking.

“Hmm,” he mused. “Fine, you can replace him. Although he gets his punishment!”

The Goat Man shifted, his cloak touching my feet. It sent shivers through my body, fear getting around my heart.

A black scythe floated next to him, appearing out of nowhere. Its blade shone in the moonlight; the only light present after the disaster the Goat Man created earlier.

“Tell me, peasant, with what hand does your father strike?”

I swallowed, leaving my mouth dry. My eyes roamed over my father’s face, who realised the imminent danger. I turned my head towards my mum and sister, whose pale faces told me I had made a horrendous mistake.

“Answer me, woman, or I will take both of you!” it roared as its scythe floated near my father’s body. The Goat Man tilted its head, eyeing me up and down.

Swallowing, I snapped my head again to my mum and Angelica. Gavril joined them, his hands holding my sister’s shoulders.

“With his right hand…” I whispered.

In the next moment, the scythe cut through my father’s right shoulder, his arm falling on the grass. His scream mixed with my mum’s and sister’s howls, making my head hurt.

Blood was dripping from my father’s shoulder, staining the fresh, burnt grass, colouring it in crimson. He fell to his knees. As much as I wanted to go to him, my feet would not budge. It was as though I was glued to the ground, unable to move or make a sound.

My father’s continuous screams pierced the meadow, shattering my heart. My hands stretched towards him, but they were pushed back with such force, I thought I might lose them.

“Hmm, he does look better than before, I might say,” the Goat Man’s whisper crawled on my body, making my knees buckle. “Come, peasant! I will not end you here. Your mother is already distressed.”

I was pushed by the air to move backwards, my eyes glued to my suffering father, sobs threatening to wreck my chest.

The Goat Man saddled up, twisting the reins of the horse. As I was pushed by the breeze, my body floated to the saddle. My long dress was shoved to my thighs, exposing the skin I was trying to hide every day.

I grabbed the saddle ends and gritted my teeth.

“Wave your family goodbye, peasant! An eternity of suffering awaits you,” the Goat man whispered, its force moving my face to my mum and sister.

Gavril was trying to take both out of there, but my mum pushed past him and ran to my father.

That was the last time I saw them as I was.

The horse neighed once and galloped across the meadow. My fingers turned white from the force of holding the harsh leather, my heart breaking with each breath.

My mum’s screams reached me, and my eyes closed in prayer. For my ending to be painless, for my mum and sister to find their peace, and for my father to change his heart.

“Those words have no power in my world, peasant,” The Goat Man shouted. Its voice was carried over the houses and people who watched us from their porches.

I dipped my chin to my chest. What happened to me felt like a picture movie, one that Teacher Alexandru showed me and some other youngsters from the village.

Everything was moving fast. Time was ageing my soul.

Ready to be ripped.

The Goat Man

I had to put her to sleep.

Her crying was annoying me. All those screams and wailing, and for what?

For a man who abused her and her family?

And when I heard her praying for him, I had to mask my amusement with a shout.

I rolled my eyes and urged my horse to move faster as dawn approached and the first step of my plan was complete.

But I had a way to reclaim the soul I lost today.

Even if I drenched the blood of the man who had wanted to marry the woman behind me, I just couldn’t stand his face, nor the way he looked at her, as if she were dirt on his already muddy boots.

The human’s head rested against my back, a faint floral scent drifting to my nostrils. I sniffed, not disgusted by it.

The moon was hiding behind clouds, casting us into shadows, while stars painted the dark sky, guiding our way to my lair. My stallion galloped into the night, its hooves breaking the dirt covered by needles.

Firs and pines stretched before us, their roots making it harder for the horse to advance.

Upon arriving at my cave, I had left the horse in the stable and floated the peasant’s body into one of the rooms I had kept untouched for centuries.

My master had given me this cave to oversee the community of peasants below the hill. Whenever my enchanted Mirror showed me a soul, I would descend upon it. This usually happened during the Girls’ Fair. Although that was my day, my master could send me to other areas of Romania whenever he wished.

The damp air of the cave struck me as I stepped inside it, the smell of freshly cooked food mingling with the cold.

My servant was lingering near my chamber, pretending to clean the Souls’ Mirror, though I knew it had already been polished the day before. Candles lit my steps as I entered the room, the scent of melting wax replacing the sweetness of flowers that clung to my cloak. A sudden headache gripped me.

“Boy, what are you doing here? Go fetch some food!” I ordered, relieving myself of the heavy garment.

I threw it on the stone floor and walked towards the shiniest mirror that had ever existed. I tapped it once. Red light blinded me for a moment, displeased that I did not offer it a new soul. I tapped again.

The mirror revealed a pale woman, resembling the one I had taken. Her horns were longer than mine, her eyes as white as milk. Storm-dark hair brushed the ground. Her skin was as soft as snow. If I was dark, she was light.

She was my ticket to freedom.

I only needed to persuade her to do my bidding.

With her, I could finally roam the Earth as a man again, as I had before this wretched punishment.

The servant returned, staring at the blood-dripping scythe propped against the wall, a crimson puddle forming beneath it.

“Make sure you clean it before I go out next time!” I barked, looking at the tray of food. Reaching for the wine glass, I breathed out in relief.

He nodded and placed the tray on the table. The aroma of hot mămăligă made my stomach growl.

I took the skull off, placing it on my bed, stained with the peasant man’s blood. I went again to the mirror, this time absorbing my reflection.

Slowly, the fur receded, replaced by smooth, pale skin. My ears returned to normal, hidden beneath dark hair. Hooves gave way to hands and legs. Only the eyes remained the same: white with thin blue lines crossing them.

My servant handed me a robe, which I wrapped around myself, covering my body entirely. I took a seat at the table, ignoring the cutlery, and began to eat with my hands. A long life with hooves forces one to abandon forks and knives for nobles. The small bowl next to the plate was filled to the brim with mujdei.

While sinking my teeth into the warm food, I thought about how her life would change. Seeing her determination made me question whether this peasant would truly be suitable for my endeavours. I didn’t need a wolf.

I needed a sheep.

From the images the Souls’ Mirror had shown me before the Girls’ Fair, the woman was precisely that. She lowered her head every time her father entered the room, always taking her sister up to the hill or to the church, running away from his wrath. But mostly, she hid behind the cows and the horses.

The ghost’s gaze bore into my head.

I whirled my head at him, his see-through body bobbing up and down. “What?” I growled, tearing the mămăligă in half and smothering it in the garlic sauce.

He pursed his lips, his empty eyes roaming over my face. “What should I do for the girl? Should I make a fire for her?”

I watched as the wax melted from the candles alight on the table. My fingers dipped into it, the scalding wax not even tingling them. “I have no interest in her well-being,” I muttered.

I had already lost a soul because of her.

Her spirit was pure, untainted, having never harmed a fly in her life. And for her, to save her despicable father, was a sign of naivety. I just wondered how it would play out when she would have to do what I will demand of her.

The innocence she harboured in her soul disgusted me. But a smirk pulled on my lips at the thought of it disappearing in thin air.

“Sure, master. Do you want her fed?”

The boy’s ignorance tested my patience. I clenched my fists as his insolence was leaving me hungry. “I do not care, boy! You can feed her pigs, chickens, weeds, bones, and rats. I could not care less. Now LEAVE!”

My voice echoed off the walls. I took another mouthful of food and stuffed it. The grease from the fish was dripping on my chin, my hunger sated.

The boy scurried away, leaving me alone.

As I always was.

Alone and content in my solitude.

After I finished my meal, I took off my robe and stared at myself in the mirror again. My skin was spotless and young, my body lean. Only my eyes betrayed my age.

Eternity.

“What is it that you want, Goat?” my master’s voice asked.

If I were eternity, my master was the abyss.

My back stood straighter at the sound of its ironic tone, my upper hooves joined against my chest. I never liked coming to its lair. It was darker than mine, no light coming in or out.

Situated underground, the lair was filled with the voices of the lost souls gathered in the same place, the only way to be guided through the darkness. Murky eyes followed every step I took down the endless corridor. They were the whisperers, knowing everything and everyone.

The master’s eyes saw everything. And if one would not sit straight or with their head down, souls would be taken from them, eternal life cut down to almost nothing.

“I want to make a trade,” I declared, my voice as loud as I could manage.

Instead of its harsh voice, whispers rippled through the walls. Some were shouting, some were sniggering, but most of them were making my pulse race.

“A trade, you say?” My master sounded intrigued, its knowing eyes on me. “My whisperers tell me you have lost a soul at the Girls’ Fair. Is that true?”

Saliva coated my tongue. “Yes,” I answered, my hooves clacking on the floor.

“And you still want to make a trade, Goat? After your failure?” it laughed. My teeth clenched, pain ebbing in my mouth.

I nodded.

“And what would that be? A new chance?” it asked, his voice mocking me along with every whisper on the walls.

I swallowed, every part of me screaming to run. But I had to convince my master, the Elk, to set me free. So, I gathered my courage and put my plan on the line.

“I want the peasant I took to stand in my stead. She is untainted by malice. She would balance my deeds and bring you more souls than you ever had.”

Laughter met my ears, coming from everywhere. But not from him. The voices scratched my hearing, pouring anguish into my chest.

Through the darkness, I couldn’t see a shadow. Although I felt my master ponder.

“SILENCE!” The Elk’s voice vibrated the ground, my hooves trying to find stability.

At once, everything stopped.

“What you propose sounds too good to be true. Who would train her to rip souls, since she is untouched by evil? She would cower at the first drop of blood, Goat.”

I placed my hooves on the sides of my body. “She did not cower from me, Master. Not when I came for her father. She offered herself in his place.”

There was no sound coming from the walls, the whisperers deliberating, their silence slashing through my skin. I wanted to scream at them that they are taking too long, that I was wasting minutes of my life.

I knew I had more lifetimes to live than any peer of mine, but every second was precious. And I wanted to be free.

“We came to an agreement. We will watch you closely as you train her. You have until the next Girls’ Fair. If by next year she has not collected ten souls, both of you will be stripped from this earth and become collectables.”

My jaw ticked.

Ten souls were… not impossible. Not if she was a fast learner.

I left the master’s den and rode my horse into the night. The moon was bright, illuminating the graveyard that surrounded the Elk's lair, the sky starless. The graves were filled with soldiers who died in the last war that took place in Romania, their spirits still lingering between the cave walls.

Nothing good had come from the war. At least not for mortals.

For me, the battlefield had been a feast. Souls everywhere, ripe for the taking, each one adding to my years.

My horse galloped faster through the haunting forest that surrounded the cemetery. Aside from its hooves pounding the ground, my ears perked at the songs of owls and the flapping of the bats’ wings, the crisp scent of wood lingering on my cloak.

I was riding for my freedom.

And I had faith that I would succeed. That once again, I will be human.

Until my wrinkled, dying breath.

Her body thrashed in her sleep, her feet kicking at the cold air. From the corner of my eye, I saw the fire subdued to dying embers, the cave’s icy breath swallowing every trace of warmth.

The peasant’s face scrunched with every muscle at once. Her dark lashes fluttered, brushing against her cheeks in restless motion. Soon, she would be awake.

I took my leave, her tormented face imprinting itself on my mind.

Returning to my room, curiosity tugged at me. I wanted to know what she was dreaming. Barefoot, I walked to the Souls’ Mirror, where everyone’s mind resided. Tapping once, I was transported to a world of innocence, where a younger Ana and her sister were watching fish swim.

“Ana, do you think Father will forgive me for neglecting to sell the cheese at the market today?” the girl with blonde hair asked. Her sister, Angelica.

The peasant I took watched her sister, her sky-blue eyes warming.

“It is not your fault, Angi. He should have been the one to wake you up.”

Her sister sighed, her darker eyes moving over the rivers.

Their clothes were dirty and stained, their grey aprons discarded near the edge of the river, washed and rinsed. Their opinci lay recklessly on the water’s edge. Sunlight danced on the drops of water clinging to the girls’ skin.

“How come you are so righteous?” her sister asked, the look in her eyes filled with pride and admiration.

The younger version of the woman sleeping in my spare room turned to her sister.

“It would come in hand, from time to time, to listen to Father Neagu’s sermons.”

“But they are so tedious!” the youngest whined.

“Angi, love is not tedious. And love for the Highest of beings is enough to carry on,” the human explained gently.

“Why?”

“Because when there’s no one left to turn to, He will listen.”

“Does He do miracles?” her younger sister asked, her brows knitted.

“Only if you want Him to,” the peasant smiled. Something in my stomach twitched. “When you are in bad health, do you know to whom mum prays?”

“God,” the child mumbled, dangling her feet over the edge.

“Indeed. After turning to the doctor and the midwife from the village, after oiling your body with every salve she could get her hands on, she turned to God.”

“I only remember her putting a batik soaked in țuică and stuffed with potatoes on me. I don’t remember any prayers…”

“They were there. For days, those were the only words she could speak.”

The young girl considered her sister’s words and stood up, her hair turning almost white due to the sunlight.

“Then why does God not help us with father?”

At that, all the colour drained from the peasant’s face. A smirk pulled at my lips, and I raised my eyebrows. Laughter bubbled in my throat but disappeared as soon as it came.

“We are not the ones to judge, Angi. The time will come when our father will repent for his sins. Until then, we have to live as much as we can in the little that we have. Only God can take with the hand that He gave.”

The irony was there. I had stepped into her god’s place and done what her silent fiction had never dared to do.

Ana

My sister’s feet were splashed by the river's cold water. We took our aprons and opinci to wash them on the bank of the rippling water. We were more than dirty as we helped our father slaughter some of the chickens.

I still felt his slap from when I refused to watch. The fact that he held my neck as his other hand stabbed one of the youngest chickens made my stomach wrench. That day, I decided I wouldn’t eat chicken at all. My sister held my skirt during my father’s endeavours, hiding behind my back.

“Ana, do you think we will find good husbands?” Angelica asked, walking back to the house. We held our opinci by the fingers and the apron on one shoulder. One of our neighbours greeted us, a long stick in her hands.

She was coming from the pasture with her cows, the smell of hay reaching our noses. The sound of the bells attached to the cows’ necks raised goosebumps on my arms.

“I don’t know,” I resumed the question, walking on the stone road. “We might. But until then, we have yet to learn to sew shirts and how to make proper food. Yesterday, I burnt the fried cheese and…” I drew in a breath, clenching my jaw.

“Why can’t men make their own food?” she asked, her blonde brows knitting.

I turned so fast to her that my head became dizzy. “Angi, you know our roles. You should be considered lucky that we get to read.”

She wasn’t satisfied with my answer. “But God sees men and women as equals! They cannot exist without each other!” Her hands rose in the air, red blotches touching her skin.

“That is true, my sweet sister. And there are men out there who want to be loved as we want to be.” My foot kicked a pebble.

“Might be. I just do not want to have one like our father.”

Her small voice kicked my heart into pieces.

At least, in the wake of my death, Angelica will have Gavril at her side. And I could reside in Heaven.

I sniffed, feeling the heavy air. Heaven or even Hell could not smell like wax.

Hell would smell like fire and burnt meat, at least that was what our priest told us every Sunday, after his sermon. We listened to him every week, every holiday and when we would go for confession.

I feared God more than I feared men, as He would send our punishments. If one were to sew on Sunday, the needle would pinch the finger. If one washes their clothes in the river on Sunday or any holy day, something evil will turn their way.

However, where I was then, it couldn’t be either Hell nor Heaven. It was too cold to be Hell, too unpleasant to be Heaven. My feet kicked the air, trying to find something to cover myself, so I could continue my slumber. A shiver passed through my body, as goosebumps broke on my skin.

I forced my eyes open to a wall made of stone. Grey, cold stone. I jolted out of bed, checking my surroundings. My feet touched something soft; a moth-eaten rug stood over the sharp floor.

On my right was a small fireplace, barely producing any heat and almost no embers left. Someone had the good intention of making the room warm, but it was long forgotten.

There was no natural light coming in. Only a generous amount of candles were spread over the walls, their flames hardly staying alight. Hardened wax surrounded them, the honey colour easing my pounding heart.

A small round table stood by the bed; one chair sat next to it. On the wooden table, there were some papers and a glass ink pot with a raven's feather in it.

I scanned them, but there was nothing written on them.

No doors were between this chamber and the next one, only a large hole in the rock wall.

My whole body was cold; the dress I had was too frail for this place. I brought one finger near the fire of one candle to feel the blaze. It stung, my skin quickly getting red.

I wasn't dead.

I was supposed to be dead.

That is why I traded my soul for my father’s. The Goat Man should have killed me and taken my soul.

So, why wasn’t I in Heaven?

In search for answers, I went out through the hole, the rock cut to create this passage. My fingers grazed the wall, and the burn I had instantly made its presence known.

With both of my hands on the walls, I tried not to cut my feet on the floor. I tiptoed on the hard stones, but it pinched me from time to time, making me wince.

“You’re up!”

I swirled around, my hair touching my heels.

A ghost.

A ghost was in front of me.

There were stories about them. Muroi. They couldn’t exist.

It was being said that they would draw our energy and would let us join them in the aftermath. I cursed myself for not having any means of protection. Holy water would have dispelled its sight. I should have slept with holy basil under my bed to wake up from this nightmare.

Or Hell.

Maybe this was my kind of Hell. To roam with creatures of the night, not burning in the fire pits.

Usually, the muroi were drawn as babies who died very young, before getting baptised. It is said that on the night of Christ's Resurrection, they wept and asked for their baptism.

But the ghost in front of me was no baby.

It was something that resembled a young boy, his clothes shinier in the candlelight.

My eyes widened, and my pulse pounded in my ears. I tried to run, but the stone was hurting my feet. My skin broke, the pain clogging my thoughts. As I took a step, I stumbled on one of the rocks.

Prayer was my only escape then. I prayed for my soul, asking God where He sent me.

“There are no gods here, girl! Only me and my master.”

I kept my eyes closed, my breathing accelerating. My lips pursed, even though I had so many questions rambling in my head.

“Woman,” I whispered. That was the only rational thought I had.

“Let me help you, woman,” the ghost jeered at me.

My hands sprang into action, and I crawled, with my eyes still closed, until my head hit a wall. The pain was too vivid for me to be dead.

“Careful now, my master would not have you hurt from your stupidity.”

I clutched my chest with my hand, and then I realised. Heartbeats pushed my hand back and forth.

I was alive, and this place was my nightmare.

Feeling a cold breeze on my face, I sniffed. The smell of food filled my nostrils and reminded me that I still needed to eat.

Because I was alive and not dead at the hands of the Goat Man.

The ghost came closer, something besides air touching my body. I clenched my muscles, murmuring that it could not exist.

“Oh, we do. We roam the Earth, but mortals think we are strigoi or muroi. I am not going to lie, there are those too, but not in here.” The ghost floated near my naked feet, his body bobbing up and down, air swishing.

I slightly opened one of my eyes and stared at the cave’s ceiling. “What is this place?” I whispered, trying to keep the other eye closed. “Is this Hell?”

The ghost laughed, bringing his hand to his stomach. “For me, is not Hell, if that place even is out there.”

In no time, the ghost was on the side. I crawled on my elbows until I hit my head again.

“Stop it, woman! I do not have the means to nurse you back to health from your ignorance!” the ghost shouted next to my ear, making me wince.

He had no colour of his own; behind him was just his clothing.

I opened my other eye. “Who is your master?” I asked, puzzled, my voice straining. The cold stone breached my back, pushing its pointy tip into my skin.

The ghost, who looked no more than my age, scratched his head, as if he could feel it. “The Goat Man, of course. He brought you here.” His nose upturned, and his empty eyes watched me as if I were nothing but dust.

“Where is ‘here’?” I inquired, standing on my feet. I supported my hand on the wall, staying as far as possible from the ghost.

“You have too many questions, woman. And I have no patience.” He tilted his head, floating in circles. “My master is the Goat Man, and I live here. For as long as I remember.”

“How much time is that?”

He leaned his head the other way, making the wall behind him blurry. “Ah, me from last year, and my master for centuries, I believe.”

Centuries? But it was just a story.

And still, the Goat Man brought me here. It was the one who severed my father’s hand. My heart clenched at the pain he must have felt. How would he work in the field now?

I made the cross sign with my right hand, wondering at the view in front of me and the disaster the Goat Man left behind him.

My eyes darted from one corner of the cave to the other. There was no escape from here.

I took a deep breath and pulled every ounce of courage I had in my veins. Or rather curiosity. “What is your name?” I asked, rising from the iciness of the stone. I still couldn’t look at him, so I set my eyes on a point further in the distance.

“Andrei.”

“And your master’s?” My dress swished on my heels as I took another step closer. It had blotches of mud from the seam to my knees. But cleanliness was not a priority.

The ghost shrugged. “No one knows. He is the Goat Man.” If he could get any paler, he did right then. “But let’s leave that. Come eat, woman! You will need all your strength.” He turned around, announcing that tochitură with mămăligă was waiting for me in the kitchen.

Which seemed odd, because this meal was usually served in winter, right after Ignat, when the pigs got cut and turned into food.

As we were walking towards the kitchen, I remembered the story about Ignat.

According to it, Ignat wanted to cut a pig one year, but by an unfortunate accident, the hatchet flew into his father’s head. Saddened and seeing that his sin is not forgiven, he travelled the world, where he met a priest. The latter told him to build a bridge over a river, without asking anything in return. Ignat did that, but the priest had another request: to bury a seed of any tree and wait until a bush would grow.

The years passed, and Ignat married. During one night, he couldn’t sleep, hearing all types of shouts from the bridge he built. On the other side of it, there were two old men asking for help. Ignat helped the elderly men cross the bridge, and they wondered at the poverty Ignat, his wife and children lived.

Turned out that the old men were God and Saint Peter, who rewarded Ignat with all kinds of treasures, because he repented for his sin.

I hoped my sins would not be as hurtful as Ignat’s. Not when I was already repenting.

Walking behind the floating ghost, his words came back to me. “Why would I strengthen myself if your master needs a soul?”

But the boy floated further down the stony hall, ignoring me.

I walked after him into a small kitchen, where the smell of food was well preserved, having no way to air the room. There was a small cast-iron pot on a wood stove and a solid mămăligă next to it. The scent of fried pork meat called to my stomach.

As my eyes searched the room, I took a seat at the round, wooden table. I watched enthralled as the ghost placed the pot and mămăligă on a wooden board without even touching it, its steam warming my face.

There were two large cabinets filled with mugs, pots and trays, in no proper order. My fingers twitched at the thought that my mum would rearrange them.

She would chastise us for not tidying up after ourselves, but she would always join in our cleaning, making a game out of it.

“I thought you… fantome cannot lift or…,” I mumbled, my eyebrows joining, still eyeing the cabinets. Their doors closed with a bang, making me jump in my seat. The creature narrowed his void eyes at me.

The ghost made a cackling sound. “Oh, you poor woman, you should get out of your church or your Bible and look around. We are more evolved than…”

“I am not insulting your beliefs, so why do you?” I took the warm pot from the air, scowling at him.

I poured some of the tochitură in the clay bowl in front of me, using a piece of mămăligă to gather the meat sauce, instead of a spoon. It tasted as bland as water. “Do you have some salt?” I requested, trying not to look directly at him.

His gasp almost broke my hearing. He crossed his hands over his chest, but a large bag of salt was plopped on the table.

“Thank you,” I mumbled and sprinkled some of it over the food.

The meat was tender, breaking as I put the piece of mămăligă in it. My mouth couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of the onion mixed with tomato sauce. I missed my mum and her cooking.

Not realising how hungry I was, I pushed the empty bowl to the middle of the table.

“Do you know if I can see my family?” I set my eyes on the stove, which was blurry through the ghost.

Another cackle came from the translucent neck of the boy. “Of course not! You are now his slave, as am I, human. You do not think much, do you?”

Apparently not.

My hand reached out to the mug, but by mistake, the sack filled with salt fell to the floor. I gasped, my eyes widening. That was a bad omen. Spilling salt over any surface meant quarrels with the members of the house.

With my pulse accelerating, thoughts of more evil coming my way crossed my mind. It was ungodly enough to be in the same cave with a ghost and the Goat Man.

“Woman, is just some salt. I will have more fetched next morning.”

In the next minute, a broom appeared and swept every grain from the floor, then jumped straight into an empty bucket.

“That means I am going to attract…”

“Stop talking this instant! There are no superstitions here, not Bau-Bau, no gods, saints and whatnot.”

Shaking my head, because this interaction was draining me of everything I had, I drank the whole mug of what I thought was water.

The acid taste of țuică burnt my tongue, and I started to cough. I only tasted it once before.

After my family would collect all the plums from the orchard and leave them to ferment, my father would call our neighbours to start preparing the drink. Once the juice was collected from the fruits, it was time for the alcohol to get out.

My father would bring the large boiler that he inherited from his parents, and at a high flame, the steam would turn the juice into țuică.

One of his friends gave me a small glass that fit nicely in my hands and asked me to drink. Being more naïve, I took everything in a swig. Every inch of me burned.

I loathed it.

I stood up, suddenly getting the courage to look straight into the ghost’s eyes. “I am not dead, I still have my body, I can move, and I can feel. So, how am I supposed to serve your master?” My feet went on their own accord, nose to nose with the ghost.

“I… I…” he babbled, his eyes rolling in his head.

I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for an answer. My left eyelid twitched, another bad omen approaching.

If one’s upper lid twitched, then something good will happen that day; if the lower lid twitched, then something which will ruin your day will take place.

It was clear as day that I was doomed. If I were not dead by then, I would be soon.

“I guess my master will tell you everything once he returns,” the boy mumbled into his chest.

“And where is this master of yours?”

“I am not allowed to tell you.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “Can you, please, make the room warmer?”

“I am not your servant!” he shouted, bawling his fists.

“You’re not. At least show me where you keep the logs, and I will take it from there.” I was not afraid to work my stay there. My parents shaped me to do many things to keep a household afloat.

The ghost tsked, pondering my words. “Next time. Now, it would be faster if I made it. Be still and don’t do anything stupid.”

I nodded and thanked him.

Before leaving, he turned around. “Tomorrow, you’ll start working around the house.”

My head dipped again, and I watched him step straight into the walls. Chills seeped their way down my spine, not believing my own eyes.

I stepped on the stone with great care.

This was not my reality, was it? Where was I? What place was this? And where was this master who took me and left me here alone with phantoms?

While Andrei, the ghost, brought wood and made the fire in my chamber, I roamed around the cave.

There was a bathroom with a large bathtub and an iron bucket next to it. An abundance of soaps of different fragrances was neatly arranged on a wooden shelf. Rags and robes were placed on a hook. Each of them was void of colour.

In the middle of the ceiling stood a chandelier with candles. The same wheat-coloured candles were placed here and there throughout the cave.

The room left me in awe. We did not have this at any of the houses in my village. We were used to bathe under the sun, in the summer or inside in a room which could not be called a bathroom.

I stepped further into the next chamber. There was a cramped library, with only three shelves filled with books to the brim, and tomes that contained texts in other languages, not spoken in my village. Their tempting smell drew me near them.

My fingers touched the thin yellow pages, bringing me the best sensation I could have in my confinement. Vines decorated the bookcases, giving me the impression they were long forgotten.

A pang hit my heart, remembering my family and their sorrow. I should have been there with them, helping them stay afloat.

Angelica will have to go with Gavril at some point, leaving our mum alone with our father. The silver lining was that he couldn’t hit her anymore.

A few tears filled my eyes, but I expelled them. It was not the time to grieve. I made my choice, and I had to carry it with me.

My burden was heavy, but I would wear it proudly.

I made the cross sign, sending a small prayer for my mum and sister, hoping they would not have to suffer for my judgement.

Next to the library was my room, but straining my neck, I saw another hole in the cave’s wall, opposite to mine. Light came from it, the flames flickering, drawing my attention.

Curiosity overcame fear, and I crept towards the hole. My fingers skimmed the stone until I reached the room.

I could only peek at the thick cloak left ajar on the same rug as in my room, parchment papers fallen under a table. I couldn’t make out the handwriting, but I had the impression the words were not Romanian.

All of a sudden, my heart started to pound faster, as though it would run out of my chest and hide away from the brute.

“Curiosity killed the cat, peasant!”

The Goat Man

“Know your victim before condemning them to torment.”

That was what the Elk told me when I was turned by him into the Goat Man.

And that was the reason why I was still watching the human’s life.

Right before my eyes, through the Souls’ Mirror, the human was getting out of church, after she had taken the holy bread from the priest. She was walking with her mother, as her sister was bedridden.

I saw them praying in church, during the service, kissing icons, mixing germs. It was a good thing that I was eternal and not touched by mundane diseases.

Her mother walked before her, tears shining on her face. The peasant remained behind, taking one piece of bread from a napkin and eating it. It was said that the stomach needed to be empty for that bread to help your mind and body.

The woman fed a stray cat with the rest of the pieces, petting it as the animal ate.

How would a woman who gave abandoned animals food rip ten souls?

My attention was snagged by the sound of footsteps outside my chamber. I tapped once on the Souls’ Mirror, my reflection leering right at me.

I heard the peasant breathing, cutting through the silence.

“Curiosity killed the cat, peasant!”

My fingers grazed the surface of the glass, and it showed me her.

The woman was standing, glued to the wall. Stone must have breached her skin from how hard she pushed herself against it.

“If you want to ask questions, inimă, you will have to wait your turn.”

‘Inimă’. Heart. Why would I call her that?

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes.

Before and after I took her, I tried to rake my mind on how to lay this plan I had at her feet. It would not be easy to accept, especially for someone who hasn’t hurt a fly in her life.

Therefore, there was only one option: to force her into it.

When I got the idea to take her as my replacement, I searched through her life in the Souls’ Mirror. As I did then, I was doing it now.

She held her head down whenever her mother or father would chastise her. Always praying for the salvation of their souls, as if his could have any redemption. The thought of it made me snort.

On the other hand, her mother was not evil. She was just a mother who, instead of the palm, used words. Gentle words to stray her daughters from evil.

I don’t remember mine, or even if I had a mother in the first place.

Not wanting to delve into my past, I concentrated on the woman from the opposite side of the wall.

The human’s heat was palpable through the air. I watched as her cheeks turned rosy, her chest panting, and her knees shaking. My blood started boiling, and I cast a shameless thought aside.

We, eternals, never had impure sentiments about humans. We found them impractical. Filled with emotions which could not be closed in a trunk and forgotten. There was nothing simple about them when it came to grief, sadness or even love. The latter was the most dangerous of all.

Love could make one sacrifice oneself for others who do not deserve even one’s glance.

Her breathing made my jaw clench. “If you won’t start talking, you can go on your merry way!” I whispered, fully aware that she would hear me.

My voice could travel miles away, if that was my intention, a perk I gained when I became the Goat Man.

Her gasp reached my ear, my pulse thumping.

I relieved myself of my breeches and shirt, sending them onto my bed. Grabbing my robe, I turned back to the Souls’ Mirror.

It became my sanctuary, a breath of fresh air after a day filled with anguish. It was my only friend, loyal to my beliefs.

The image of the woman was still on the glass. It seemed as though she was trying to crawl up the wall out of fear. The sleeves of her dress, usually flowing, were dampened from the humid air. The hair was stuck between the fabric and the stone, a few strands of it cascading around her tormented face.

At once, her head straightened. Her icy eyes turned harder, as though she was looking right into my eyes. Her full lips began to form words, and I had to shamefully admit that I had no idea what she was saying.

“There is no room for chanting or praying here, human,” I laughed, watching as her cheeks turned redder. “So, speak your mind and go away!”

I had no time to dwell on words meant for a god.

Mesmerised, I watched as her veins pulsed with sudden movements and listened to her whispered question.

“You are in my lair,” I replied with a flat voice, checking out the neatly arranged cloaks from the small dresser. I knew that the ghost had arranged my clothes as best as he could. I also knew that the kitchen was a mess.

That day was a good one. Therefore, I took out a crimson cloak and draped it over my shoulders. The velvet touched my naked skin, the softness bringing me comfort.

I heard the woman scoffing. “I gathered that, Goat Man! I meant, where are we on a map?”

Oh, the beauty has thorns.

A smirk pulled at my lips as I shouted. “And I said, in MY LAIR!” This was the second time I didn’t find myself disgusted by her looks.

What turned my stomach upside down was the prayer she was whispering. Our Father.

Containing myself from shaking her into sense, I rolled my eyes. “There’s no ‘Our Father’, and if I remember, yours is trying now to eat with his left hand!” I roared.

This was pointless.

As I admired the craft of the cloak, her voice got closer.

“I heard that! I am not deaf!”

She must’ve been just around the corner. Her sudden boldness intrigued me.

I had to tread carefully around her, so she wouldn’t slip away. If I gave too many details, I highly doubted she would register the information.

From what I had gathered in my previous studies of Lazarov’s family, Ana was smart and resilient, being schooled by the local teacher in private, on matters such as Literature and Mathematics.

Who knew peasants had access to education in this forgotten village at the edge of Romania?

“Why am I still alive?” she asked, her hand touching the stone next to the hole in my wall.

Despite all the physical labour she had to do in her life, she had the most delicate hands I had ever laid my eyes on.

And I have seen my share of hands. Some tried to strangle me, some tried to stab me, but nothing stood between my purpose and them.

Shaking my head, my dark hair wet from the humidity, I watched the grandfather clock from the opposite wall. Three hundred and sixty-four days to bring ten souls.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the persistent smell of wax, I replied. “Meet me at dawn in the meadow. The boy will show you the way.”

I heard her hand grazing the wall, the sound mesmerising. Raspy whimpers came from her neck, her ears reddening.

“Oh, and peasant?” I said, watching my growing moustache in the mirror.

“Yes?” she breathed, her hair brushing the stones lightly.

“Bathe. You stink of cows, and I hate them.”

She stomped her feet, breaking the skin in the process, and went to her chamber.

I was proud of the final draft of my contract. If it was not respected, then her whole family would add up to my eternity.

That should convince her.

I sealed the paper made of linen rags, gifted to me by my master. They were said to be the most durable papers on Earth. And I needed the best for this.

For years, I’ve been dreaming of living the life of a human again. To breathe the fresh air of the fields and the salty air of the sea. To walk without being punished or wearing a goat skull that had the stench of death.

To have a life of my own without wearing my punishment on my face.

To be the man I once was.

My pulse quickened at the memory of my siblings, lying dead at my feet, their blood painting my skin. I only remembered my sister’s face, her young body contorted and disfigured, a gruesome image. I will keep it in my mind forever, a haunting picture to be my companion.

My mum and father were long forgotten. Sometimes, I thought that my siblings and I grew out of thin air and dirt. There were no moments of loving hands embracing me when I would fall or smiles which could warm one’s heart.

The sole memory which impacted me the most was that of me, with a scythe in hand, standing in the middle of a porch with my siblings, bleeding to death.

I was evil. Evil was me.

The red wax from the stamp, moulded with my crest, the powerful goat horns. A symbol which was my definition.

Although I was not eaten by the wolves.

I was devouring them.

I placed the paper precisely on my black cloak, which lay on my bed, so I would not forget it for our early meeting.

The longcase clock let me know I only had two hours until my fate would be in the hands of a young peasant.

Taking the skull mask I always wore when deeds were due, I glanced at my white eyes.

Someday, they would be filled with colours other than blue again. Someday, I might laugh again. Perhaps, even enjoy the sun as it should be enjoyed.

And someday, I might even love again.

Ana

I turned and turned on my cold bed, missing the warmth and love from my home.

I wished for my mum’s warm embrace, Angelica’s voice and laughter, the way both made my heart feel full between the walls of our house.

I longed for my mum’s food, fried eggs in pig’s fat, with fresh homemade bread and the juiciest fruits that we grew ourselves. And her cakes… The sweet taste of buttercream and whipped cream made from sour cream brought back childhood memories.

Tears flowed down my cheeks, the thought of burdening my family with misfortune never leaving my mind.

The church had always been my sanctuary, a place where myrrh and silence drowned out my father’s fury. I missed the walls that illustrated the twelve Apostles, their vibrant garments deep-rooted in my mind, with their golden halo mirroring a crown.

Every Saturday, after finishing our daily tasks, Angelica and I would attend evensong, where the dead would be mentioned. It was a short sermon, but it acted as an Unction service. We would bring our wicker baskets, filled with oil, bread and old clothes. The priest would dangle his thurible, filled with incense, its scent clinging to all our garments.

“Come, human, the overlord awaits you,” the ghost said from the threshold of my room, extinguishing the candles one by one. His shaky voice drove away my thoughts.

He took a tentative step inside the room, taking a candle from its holder, which was floating rather than being held.

“How did you come to serve the Goat Man?” I asked, standing up from the bed.

“Why do you care?” His figure bobbed, his translucent eyes roaming over the room. “You’re a means to an end anyway.”

“What?” I said, coming next to him.

“You’ll find out pretty soon.” His voice was enigmatic, as if he held the secrets to this world. Sniffing, he turned away. “You need to bathe! You reek, woman!”

I forgot about his master’s order, bathing not being one of my priorities. I wanted to stay and cry for eternity if possible.

“God, grievances! There is no time to wash your bush of hair!” He floated to the bathroom, expecting me to follow.

I rushed to it, listening to his instructions, not wanting to delay my fate any longer.

“Warm, well, now lukewarm water in the bathtub. Cloths and soaps on the shelves. And clean garments on the stool,” the ghost instructed, his voice eerie.

“What stool?” I asked, not remembering it from my last visit.

Angrily, he swirled towards the small wooden chair, where two types of linen skirts, one ie embroidered with a red and orange floral pattern, wool socks, a red vest, a red girdle, and a loom-woven apron waited for me.

“Go, bathe!” he urged, his voice going up a notch.

I grabbed as fast as I could a soap and a cloth and climbed into the wooden bathtub. Making the bath quick, I washed my hair poorly, letting the air dry it.

Ignoring the earthy scent of the soap, which lingered on my skin, I got dressed. First the thinnest skirt and the ie. Next, the thickest skirt and the woollen socks. Then followed the vest, girdle and apron.

“These are yours, I assume,” the ghost said, my pair of cleaned opinci floating under my nose.

My hands were shaking as I grabbed them and fitted them on my feet. “Thank you!”

“Now hurry!” he begged, his translucent hands in prayer.

I rushed with Andrei by my side, the skin on my feet broken from the run yesterday. The ghost took a different turn by passing through a wall.

My heart pumped at the thought of hearing the Goat Man’s voice once more. To feel the caress of its whisper on my skin was against my beliefs. Where only light should be, something dark lurked. And I was scared of being the one who would succumb to it.

Inhaling the first breath of fresh air after a night in dampness was invigorating. The scent of the firs mixed with the one from the field sage that grew here and there. Its perfume clung to my clothes, bringing many happy memories of Angelica and me, running around with the children from the village on lanes, barefoot and with no care in the world.

The rosy hue of the sky seeped through my closed eyes, trying to take in as much light as possible.

“Let’s walk faster, human! The Goat Man will be furious with us.”

The ghost grabbed my hand and pulled me forward; the tingle was entirely unbearable. Although when I opened my eyes, I saw my pale hands through its transparent skin. I squirmed inside, but kept my mouth shut, not wanting to offend him.

“How did you die?” I worded, more out of boredom than curiosity.

“Can it not be a story for another time?” he whined, his floating figure passing through fallen tree trunks, making me trip.

My skin broke, specks of blood dripping on my pale legs. The skirts were stained, their whiteness decayed.

I let the ghost be, promising to myself that I would ask about his old life later.

The fir trees were taller than the ones in the forest near my village, their needles losing the battle with time, decorating the ground. Mist soon covered our legs, creating an eerie atmosphere. Hidden by all the trees, neither the sun could get there.

My head turned to the cave. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go back alone. The forest narrowed the path; the grass was too tall, and the sky seemed too low.

The ghost pulled me further until we were met by a clean path. On each side of it, tall and massive candles were lit. There were dozens of them, lighting the way to a small round table with two chairs.

Where it stood.

“Go, girl! You’re late already!”

The ghost circled me and pushed me forward, making me stumble and fall to my knees. I checked the small wounds from earlier, wiping the dirt with my sweaty palms.

I looked forward.

The Goat Man stood still, near its horse, the latter showing its fangs. My heart clenched, but I pushed down my fears and walked with my head held high. Eyes glued on the candles, I felt the Goat Man's gaze on me.

After all, this was my bidding. I could not undo the bargain I made with him.

Besides the candles, the rays of the morning sun lit up my steps towards the table. Advancing carefully, I kept my eyes on the Goat Man, who left its horse and prowled to one of the chairs.

“You’re impossibly late, peasant!” it admonished, its hooves digging in the ground.

A slight breeze cut through my garments, tickling over sensitive spots.

“You asked me to clean myself,” I retorted, my eyebrows up in defiance.

Its sigh created goosebumps on my skin, pulling me one step forward. My hands went slack near my body.

“Sit! I have a proposition for you,” the brute commanded, and I obeyed with my heart in my throat.

I took a seat on the wooden chair, splinters passing through my skirt. I winced, convinced there was blood again on my skirt.

“I see you like making people suffer, Goat Man,” I declared, watching what lay on the table. An envelope stood in the middle of it, calling my name to it.

“That I do, human.” I could feel its giddiness in the warmth of the breeze.

“My name is Ana, not peasant or human!” My voice took a graver turn, irked by the consistent name-calling.

Its laughter grated on my ears and my nerves. I grabbed the side of the table until my fingers turned white. With a whiff of air, my damp, drying hair hit my face; the strands hid me from him.

“But you are a peasant and a human, are you not?”

I was. And I was proud of that.

I was more than content in helping my mother and my sister. I loved going with the cows on the pasture, watching them eat the grass under the afternoon sun. In those moments, I saw the most breathtaking dusks. I liked waking up to the sound of the roosters and collecting fresh eggs or walking to the markets with my sister and mother, the scent of fresh pastries making us hungry.

That life was simpler to me. It couldn’t slip through my fingers as the unknown which stared at me.

“You, peasant, are nothing to me. Just a means to an end,” he echoed the ghost, his chest puffing.

His words hurt. It felt as if I was in my youth, my father belittling me for not wanting to clean the horses in the pouring rain or not clearing up his mess when he would stumble upon the little furniture we had.

“And what end would that be, Goat Man?” I tilted my head, trying not to show my fear, to hide the pulse that threatened to break my veins.

One of its hooves pushed the envelope to me, the crimson wax of the seal resembling the blood seeping through my skirt.

I broke the signet in half, the horns of a goat standing proudly on it. The paper felt harsh against my skin, the letters hard to read. I squinted, the yellow light provided by the candles not helping.

Hereby, there is a contract between The Notorious Goat Man and the peasant Ana Lazarov.

The peasant, sacrificing her own soul, accepts to be in the servitude of the Goat Man for at least one YEAR.

In this YEAR, the peasant will have to rip ten souls from the vile humans in this country, being them at sea or hill, being them on mountains or in their houses.

If the peasant, Ana, does not accept this treaty, then three souls from her family will have to join the eternity of the Goat Man.

I stopped reading, my palms’ sweat staining the paper.

“What is the meaning of this?” I requested, my voice trembling.

I reread the last sentence.

… three souls from her family will have to join the eternity of the Goat Man.

My eyes couldn’t focus further.

I ran my fingers through my long strands, my hair feeling clammy. “You cannot do this,” I whispered, my breathing shallow.

“But I can,” it mocked me, one of its hooves knocking on its chest, its skull craned to the sky.

My feet shot up, knees bucking. I pressed my hands on the table, not thinking straight, dizziness engulfing me.

I had to collect souls. Murder people for its liking. Ten people in exchange for my family, so they could live on. The contract bound me to taint my heart and my body with the blood of unknown people.

For its bidding? It implied to forget myself for The Goat Man. It meant to forget God.

“I cannot murder people!” I screamed, pushing the chair down with my legs.

I felt its eyes roaming over my body, stopping at my chest, which was rising rapidly. All of a sudden, I felt the need to cover myself, the blood streaming to my cheeks.

Its body glided over the dirt, extinguishing some of the candles. “Not even if the thread of your loved ones' lives hangs from my scythe?”

It did not even open its skull's mouth to speak. The only movement was the clapping of its bones. His horse neighed once in warning, and I stepped back.

My eyes were searching for a way out, but the sun stopped me from seeing anything beyond the Goat Man’s dark form. I did not know if it was the heat or the candles, but I was sure my ie was dampened. I felt it stick to my body, the fabric scratching my skin.

“No answer, peasant? Would you like to see a demonstration of what would happen if you do not choose my way?”

My mouth suddenly went dry. My feet were stuck in the dirt by an invisible force. The sun was scorching my skin, or it was the Goat Man. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

A distant figure emerged from the woods, resembling my mum, the dawn reflecting off her hair. She was running towards me, calling my name from afar. Her hands were filled with platters of food. Her foot stumbled on a pebble, and everything toppled, splattering the dishes on the ground. Her stomach touched the ground, her hands covering her face, blonde strands falling over the sunburnt grass.

My knees jerked, but my legs wouldn’t listen to my commands. I wanted to jump to her aid, but one large figure stopped me. It covered the sun, cutting down the light.

Behind her stood the Goat Man with its dark scythe. The sun reflected the warm light of the inky blade. One hit was enough to relieve her body of her head.

“NO!” I never felt my neck muscles strain as much as they did then. My scream was raw, echoing through the woods, forcing all the birds to flee from my ire.

The Goat Man brought one of his hooves to the skull’s mouth, stopping me from crying. I kept my sobs in my chest, my tears still flowing on my blazing face. I did not have time to take in the impact of seeing my mother beheaded, as a second figure sprang from the deep green of the forest. My mouth twisted, the shock of seeing Angelica’s summery sun hair draped over my mother’s body.

“No! Run, Angi! RUN!” I bawled, trying to understand if this was the truth before my eyes or if there were only visions induced by the Goat Man.

“Ana! Help me!” she screamed back, her warm eyes suddenly becoming cold. Her piercing shout couldn’t be a vision.

The tip of the scythe stabbed my sister’s chest, blood covering her beautiful Sunday dress.

I fell to my knees, the emotions too raw, too painful, as my sister’s heart was impaled on the end of the scythe, blood dripping onto her lean body.

“See? Sign the deal, and they will never feel such pain in their life.”

The Goat Man’s voice reached my ears over sobs, trying to make any sense of it. But my mind was occupied by all sorts of images of my loved ones dying.

I couldn’t stop crying, the picture of my mum and sister murdered in cold blood running in circles through my head.

Other vivid images replaced what I had seen earlier. My mum and sister were gutted, punched with horns, their eyes taken out, walking around with their heads in their hands.

The rustle of the wind chilled my body. My face was cold; my tears were frozen on my cheeks, and my breathing became shallow.

“Stop it…” I murmured, the pain consuming my body.

Another set of torments about my mum and my sister rushed into my head. They were burnt in a fire, destroying everything in its path. They were drowning in a lake, creatures capturing their feet and pulling them to the bottom, eating their flesh.

Thunder rattled the ground, its vibration making me squeeze my eyes shut. Drizzle touched my skin, washing over my wounds. I placed my hands on my head. The wind floated the leaves and dirt, hitting my face. The ground moved for the second time. This time, the grass grew longer, spiking my skin.

“Please…” I begged, my face wrinkled, the tears long dried.

My father smiled over their corpses, laughing that at last, he was rid of the leeches.

That made me jump from the spot where I had been on the brink of despair. I grabbed the feather and ink and signed my name on the deed.

At once, everything halted.

The sun shone again, warming my cheeks, the wind turned into a musical breeze, and the birds started their trill.

“In a month, your first soul will be collected.”

My legs jerked at the sound of its voice.

“And if you fail, human, let’s say your sister will be the One-Eyed Bride.”

The cold breeze of its breath tore my heart in two. Its vivid description of my sister would live in my head forever.

The horse followed in its master’s steps, neighing in the distance.

I signed my life away.

My heart felt as though it had died the moment I wrote my name on the contract.

My spirit crossed the edge to the abyss.

The Goat Man

“You must be proud of yourself, master! You succeeded!”

The ghost’s face was elated. His clear eyes were wide open, and the grin stretched unnaturally across his translucent lips.

But I was not feeling that.

I was content with my powers and that I had her name on the contract.

What I did not like was how she felt. Seeing her crammed in the dirt, with her legs to her chest and her lean body trembling, made me sick to my stomach. It gave me a bitter taste in my mouth.

How would this affect her pure mind and soul?

Would she turn to the devil? Or would she stay with the angels?

The garments I brought for her were tousled, muddy and dirty, in contrast with her purity. Her frail features were twisted from the pain that my own mind inflicted.

The little voice in my head, which kept some sense of morality, told me to get to my knees and apologise for inflicting pain. To beg.

Thus, the Goat Man never stays on his knees. Only for his master, who soon would not be served anymore.

The ghost wandered around my chamber, cleaning my skull, and taking far too long.

I clenched my fists on the small table. The food the boy had brought lay untouched, the pilaf with chicken kidneys getting cold.

“Take it and be gone! The echo of your steps poisons my thoughts.” My shout rang off the rock wall, the candles flickering from my anger. The servant rolled his eyes in his head, as he did each time he got chastised.

Snapping my fingers at him, his gaze fixed on me. He apologised and scurried away, carrying my goat skull with him, the ivory bone glistening in the candlelight.

My naked body strutted to the Souls’ Mirror, the red-yellow flames from the candles reflecting on the glossy surface. I tapped once with my finger, the nail scratching the glass.

The same image of the woman, with midnight hair, pure eyes and long and pointy horns, stood before me. In a second, the image changed, my own body joining. My head was tilted to her, something akin to admiration, filling my blue swirls.

My body was circled by the souls I took, their red ink staining my pale skin.

I turned my back from the mirror, my blood pulsing in my ears, ignoring the odd sensation the image gave to my body. Any feelings of pity I might have for the human, I had to put aside. I had to succeed in getting out of this world.

I longed for the sun and the moon to love me, to embrace me as their long-lost son. To see people smiling at me, to have terror replaced by joy. I yearn to touch a body without making it bleed.

Taking the contract she signed, I skimmed her name with my finger.

As soon as she gets on with ripping souls, the sooner I will get out of this inferno I was placed in.

For a week, I was gone, in search of my next lair.

After I had asked my master’s permission to get out of the grotto, I looked for my next home. Once I would be human, that is.

The air between the stone walls was getting thicker with the woman there. I tried to avoid her as much as I could. Her questions were infuriating.

Alas, she shall receive her answers soon.

That wretched boy did not finish cleaning my skull. I urged him to move faster, but how can one harm a soul that floats beyond flesh? Anything I might hit him with would pass right through his body.

Whenever I put my skull on my head, the fur and hooves will replace smooth skin and my limbs.

This part would be hurtful for the woman, too, as she needs to pass through a baptism.

When it was my time, I loathed it with every fibre.

I sighed and took the darkest, longest cloak I could find, as black as this cave I was forced to live in.

My feet carried me to her chamber, as if drawn by the flowery scent.

Careful not to show my face, I dragged the hood over it and hid my hands in the pockets.

“Get up, woman! We have work to do!”

Her body jolted as my voice boomed in the cave. I didn’t wait for her reply, and I marched to the entrance of the cave.

The forest air didn’t even faze me as I whistled for my horse. The faithful stallion galloped to me, his snot touching my face. It sniffed me, snorting once.

“My loyal friend, you never disappoint me,” I said, petting his long mane. “The only thing I will regret in my next life is not being able to take you with me.”

The horse snorted, not content.

“Does it understand you?”

Her voice sent me on a spiral of different sensations through my body. Hot, cold and most surprisingly, curiosity.

The tears that drenched her attire, the sobs that deafened the forest, were sealed in my mind for good. And then, she signed the papers, wiped the salty water from her cheeks and walked on, as if nothing could touch her.

Women, peculiar creatures. Incredible, but peculiar.

The saddle placed itself on the horse, the dozen thick buckles that covered its mane closing themselves.

My horse knelt so that the woman and I could mount.

“Treat her nice,” I whispered in its keen ears. A snort came in response, the human jumping with a yelp at the sound. “She is the one who will unchain me.”

I turned to her, my eyes fixing on her long hair. “We do not have time for you to be a scared little girl,” I urged.

Her cheeks reddened, a curious hue. Her eyebrows joined in the middle, creating a small line between them. She held her skirts with her hands, her skin shining in the late afternoon sun.

I grabbed the reins a little too aggressively for my horse’s liking, its neighing causing me to wince.

The human climbed in front of me, the curve of her back touching what had not been touched for an extremely long time.

Ignoring every possible new and old sensation, although mostly odd, I led my horse out of the forest. The smell of blooms was intoxicating.

She kept quiet, her back touching my chest from time to time. And right then, my horse decided to trot instead of walk, making the whole atmosphere unsurpassable.

The sun cast shadows through the firs’ needles, making me squint my eyes. My horse did not need my guidance as it knew well the way to my purpose.

The woman’s long hair was braided and draped over her shoulder, leaving me to stare at the nape of her neck. The sound of her rapid heartbeat pounded in my ears, making me squirm inside.

“Can you calm down? Your breathing irks me!”

She took one loud breath, and her heart rate gradually slowed. One corner of my mouth raised, enjoying the power I had over her.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice small.

She kept her face forward. Her shoulders were strained, as if she would move one muscle, the horse would throttle her.

“You’ll see. No need to share details ahead.” I stopped all the unnecessary conversations.

The noise of my stallion’s trot was the greatest sound on Earth. I could finally hear my thoughts. This way, I could daydream about my life, once the tenth soul would be collected. The greenest grass between my toes, the warmest fire heating my skin in the winter, the coldest river refreshing my body after a hot day…

“How would I know which soul to take?”

The rustle of the leaves and her voice broke the line of my thoughts.

“What did I say earlier?” I retorted, refraining from sighing.

She huffed, her back's muscles contracting. If not for the radiance of her soul, which must replace mine, I’d have hurled her from the saddle and let the wolves teach her obedience.

The sun was closing its time for the day, hiding behind the hills of the countryside. The villagers here would have to yell at their neighbours over the field in order for them to communicate.

Orchards filled with ripe fruit stretched to our left, some people already picking them for different beverages or to store them over winter. I tasted before the compote that the ghost made. The sugary syrup in which the fruit was sunk was pleasant to my taste buds. Although I never said that out loud.

Cows were scattered here and there eating grass, their bells ringing in my ear; horses neighing in the distance, with a plough attached to their waists. But, as we deepened in the forest, the howling of the wolves replaced the trill of the birds.

I steered my stallion to the left, climbing a steep hill to the top.

There was a ritual for the woman to get the same powers as me. For a short time, she would be my equal.

A ritual I would have to explain to her. She was currently sniffing in her sleeve. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes as another wave of tears touched her hands.

Her purity would be my downfall.

I tried to take my mind off the woman and her muted sobs. I thought back to the ceremony when I chose my goat skull.

I didn’t have any recollection of how I got to be the Goat Man.

My baptism, how the Elk called this ceremony, happened centuries ago. I was surrounded by dozens of masks, while Elk pushed my whole body underwater. When I emerged to the surface, my master placed the Goat Skull on my head, and instead of pristine skin, I had fur.

It took me a while to get used to what I could do. My powers stretched from the moon to the stars, from the stars to the sun and back. They, like me, were endless.

The scythe became my companion in my endeavours. Its bloody blade aged me with every soul I took.

“Are we there yet?” the human asked, her chin supported on her shoulder. Her blue eye dug into my soul, which I didn’t like at all.

I tsked, rolling my eyes. Luckily, they were concealed by the hood. Maybe if I kept quiet, she would stop her rambling questions. She was still looking at me, expecting something that would not come until we reached the Souls’ Pool.

“Can you at least tell me if I would ever see my family?”

Air filled my cheeks, stopping me from laughing. I am not sure why she would not understand that she was mine to wield.

As a weapon.

“There will be no contact outside the world you will step in,” I said, my voice low. “Unless it is to take the ten souls you owe me.”

She swallowed, and the sound invaded my ears.

“Can I at least go to church?”

This time, I couldn’t contain my laughter anymore. And it was enough of an answer for her. The silence took a few blessed minutes.

“But why not? I can still practice my beliefs, and neither you nor anyone from this world can stop me!” Her usual sweet voice grew darker.

“Oh, please! Do you really think that your fictional god will forgive you if you kill ten people?”

Her retort came quickly. “My God is more understanding than humans. He would see the sacrifice I made for my family.”

I arched a brow because I couldn’t convince her that there was no one up there to stand as judge.

Unfortunately, she would not get to see this, since she was going to be immortal soon. Chuckling, I steered my stallion to the left, making her jump. Her head hit my chin lightly, the contact making my fingers twitch on the reins.

“Keep still, human,” I warned.

Then I realised her will would be stronger than eternity.

Ana

The horse stopped at the top of a hill overlooking two of the villages that bordered mine. A stab crossed my heart at the thought that I should be with my family, enjoying my sister’s engagement and celebrating with them.

Angelica’s wedding would be immense. Gavril was the only son, and his family was pretty wealthy. They were known even in the largest city, where they usually sold their homemade wine and other beverages. His mother was also specialised in making pastries; her cakes and biscuits were sought out in our county.

The wedding would take three days and three nights. The preparations would have to involve both our families. The women would have to cook, and the men would have to deal with the beverages. My father would have to present the dowry for Angelica, but I knew Gavril’s father would not accept anything. He was such a good man, despite the perpetual frown beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Gavril, being the groom, would search for the best lăutari, who would make sure that the dance would be continuous. And Angelica would prepare the small gifts for the guests and the large gifts for their godparents.

On the wedding day, the callers would go from door to door to announce the wedding and call each neighbour to see the Bride’s Hora. After Angelica would get dressed in her best attire, she would have to lead the hora. Whoever wanted to dance with her in the middle of the village would have to give a small amount of money.

Instead of helping them with the preparations, I was strolling with death itself.

Once I slid down from the horse, I offered my hand for it to sniff. As gently as it could, it placed its snout on my hand, breathing in the scent of flowers that smelled similar to my mum’s soap.

The other day, coming back from the meadow, my skin was broken over my legs. But once I stepped foot in the cave, my wounds healed. I thought myself mad when I scrutinised my skin in the bath. But there were no more bleeding cuts; my smooth skin was mended.

Andrei drew me a bath before I left, the hot water mixed with foam stinging my skin. I washed my hair, the fire from the hearth helping to dry it.

As my feet touched the hill, the grass was dried from the summer sun. There was no breeze, and the air was too dry. The scorching heat of Cuptor made it hard to breathe.

My opinci instantly warmed up as I stepped next to the Goat Man, who was gazing at what lay in front of us.

Luckily, Andrei presented me with some lighter options for garments than what I was used to wearing in the summer. I took the long linen shirt that draped over my thighs and placed it under a light skirt. The fota was dark, but the red and green embroidered crosses gave my attire life.

He also brought me wool ivory tights, which were warming my body. Even if I complained about them, he said that his master ordered me to wear them.

Whoever had chosen the clothes seemed to see life through a blend of darkness and simplicity.

Roaming my eyes over the hill, a crowd of stags were lying in the weeds, their antlers pointed to the sky. Dark snouts sniffed the air, their eyes watching us. Watching me.

They were surrounding a half-wall of an old church. The cross resting on the roof passed the test of time and stood overbearingly over the hill. Ivory vines were growing between the bricks, their lush leaves giving life to the ancient walls.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“An old church, destroyed by time and war,” the Goat Man answered, its eyes on the vines. Its voice created a cold breeze, welcomed in this heat.

I placed my braid on my back, the sweat dampening my neck. I watched the brute, my eyes narrowed as my palms rested on my hips.

“I hope you have not dragged me here to stare at the stags and an old wall, Goat Man,” I said, squeezing the skin of my arm with my fingers. “I promised Andrei I would help him cook and feed the horse.”

It snickered, and for the first time since we arrived on the hill, I noticed the lack of horns. The cloak’s hood was covering its face. When I narrowed my eyes at it, I observed that there was no fur.

It stood like a statue, unmoving under my scrutiny.

“Where are your horns?” I questioned, my eyes flying again to the top of its hood. I tilted my head, assessing its posture. It was significantly thinner than before, the cloak cascading from its slender body.

It stood quietly, a sudden gust of wind circling my legs. Its chest rose slowly through the cloak, dragging my attention to it. I ignored the blush that was threatening my skin.

Out of thin air, in my hands appeared a sheepskin coat, its fur soft and curly. “This heat shall be the end of me, wrapped in such a coat!” I whined, imagining the fur tickling my neck skin.

“Where we are going, there is no torridity, woman. Now put it on!”

Its voice boomed in my ears, scratching my thoughts.

I leaned my head on my shoulder. “Is your tongue always this sharp, or do you save the spite for my ears alone?”

The Goat Man tsked. “Are you sure your God will forgive your comments?”

We moved towards the old church’s wall, the stags enjoying the heat too much, their grainy eyes following my steps. Their stare raised the hairs on my body.

If I gained the courage to mount the blood-curdling stallion behind me, I had to find it in me to walk across the herd of stags.

Breathing loudly once and with my heart in trenches, I stepped after the Goat Man. It seemed to forget that I was behind. The cloak it wore brushed the burnt grass, the sound of it replacing the silence.

“Why are they here?” I voiced my thoughts, eyeing the stag on my right. It was tame enough, but the noble voice in my head said to stay away and not touch it. Especially not its antlers. Its brown fur had a reddish hue in the sundown, its wet nose gleaming in the sunrays.

From afar, they were alluring, drawing you in with their majesty and elegance.

“I will answer all your pestering questions once we are down,” the Goat Man hissed, his cloak flapping in its breeze.

The herd of stags was watching our every move, their beady eyes tracking our feet. The grass tickled my skin, sweat dampening my hair, and my patience was nowhere to be seen.

In addition, the coat was suffocating me.

I swallowed, registering his answer. “Down?” I repeated, looking around for stairs. There were none. I felt my heart racing, creating an unpleasant sensation in my chest.

“I sacrificed myself for my father, I signed my soul away to you again, placing my family over my life, so at least one answer, I think I deserve!” My voice was not mine; it turned hoarse and raspy.

I stomped my foot once on the grass, making the stags rise to their feet, one of them taking a faltering step.

The Goat Man halted, its head turning slightly in my direction. “Oh, but peasant, do you lack comprehension? I already said I would answer all your questions.” Its voice was calm, but I felt the insult crawling on my skin.

I stepped into its space. “I agreed to do your bidding out of fear, but that doesn’t mean that I cannot fight back, Goat.”

Without even thinking, I took the coat off my shoulders and threw it in its face. Turning around, I walked back towards the stallion, my fists clenching and unclenching. I felt the burning gaze of the Goat Man on the nape of my neck, but I couldn’t care less.

I was going back, tired of the way he was talking to me.

A gush of wind touched me lightly on my stomach, stopping me in my advance.

“You cannot escape the contract, or everyone you hold dear will be buried six feet under.”

My heart was pure, but at what cost?

The images my mind conjured were not pristine, with its skull hurled in the Danube and its body following. My thoughts were impure. I quickly dipped my head down, prayed for my redemption and whispered three times ‘Lord, have mercy’ under my breath.

“You can come on your own accord, or I will force you,” the Goat Man said, its voice sending goosebumps down my skin.

Finishing my prayer, I sighed. There was no escape from it and its wretched contract.

I ignored the sensation of its sigh on my face and strolled back, holding my head high and my shoulders straight.

“And please tell me, woman,” it began, waiting for me at the old church, “how would you fight back?”

The sheepskin coat draped itself around my shoulders.

With each step I took towards it, its voice became louder. “How can you say that you’ll fight back, when you couldn’t fight your father? At least, his wrath you could have escaped. Mine, not so much.”

I felt a scratch inside my neck. The words that I wanted to throw in its face were not kind. How did this creature manage to pull my darker side to the surface? A side of me that never showed itself.

Instead of voicing my real thoughts, for which I would repent later, I made a threat. “Goat, what will happen to you if I fail in collecting these souls of yours? Would you die?”

“So will you,” came its retort, but I heard the question in his voice.

“Yes, but I am not afraid of death.”

In a few days, my heart would be stained by the blood of the first soul I would take. Therefore, I had to accept my penalty and God’s judgement.

I sidestepped the brute and walked with my head high.

The sky was getting darker, the humid air replaced by freshness. Shiny speckles began to stain the deep blue vault, making me think of the times when I would stay with Angelica and debate if the sun and moon were like us.

She the light and me the dark.

Oh, how I missed her.

An arm grabbed me by my waist, pulling me towards a soft cloth. “Your ignorance would bring us doom.”

The voice rambled on my skin, goosebumps appearing on my delicate spots. I looked down, the warmth of the arm comfortable on my body.

And there they were.

Stone stairs stretched in front of me, the brisk gust of air chilling my face, drowned in darkness.

Slowly, the arm peeled from my body, its warmth leaving me. I watched its motion, surprised that instead of a hoof was a pale hand. Five long fingers were splayed over the dark fabric, the nails covered in bruises.

I averted my gaze; more questions would arise and remain unanswered. I swallowed and descended on the cold stone.

All of a sudden, the way down was illuminated by torches, their flames too close to me. One by one, I threaded carefully not to fall over the narrow stairs.

My legs were unsure, but I willed myself to hold my head down, blocking the image of its hand on my waist.

Because earlier, it was not a goat. Its hand was a human hand. A powerful hand, which managed to pull me without effort.

What was happening?

Another thing I had noticed was that instead of a clang of hooves, I couldn’t discern another sound other than the one of my opinci stepping on the stairs.

As the mystery of the creature behind me intensified, we descended into the most enchanting cave.

In the middle of the chamber was a large pool of crystal-clear water. The light of the torches reflected in it, creating a fairytale before my eyes.

“What is this place?” I asked, looking at the ceiling, water dripping into the pool like summer rain. The gentle splash of the droplets was more than inviting to bathe in the water and join their shimmer.

“It is the cave where all of us Souls Rippers get the mask we have to wear for eternity.”

I swirled to it, my mouth open. “You mean I must undergo the same ritual as you? Will I be immortal? Will I see my family again? What mask would I have? A goat, too?” I said the last sentence with fear in my voice, my hands starting to fret. My chin dipped, hopeful that the Goat Man would not take it as disgust for its body.

“You do have a lot of questions, and I will try my best to describe the process.” Its arms went behind its back, the hood still lingering on the face.

“Are you cowering behind that cloak?” My eyes were fixed on the hood, my eyebrows frowning. At least with the skull, I could look into the abyss. But then it looked as if the Goat Man was intimidated.

A spark came from a torch, distracting my attention from the Goat Man. It seemed peculiar, but not of import. I turned back to the creature.

Its chest rose, a loud inhale, and then the cloak was down, piling on the floor.

My eyes roamed over its hooves and fur until they stopped on the skull.

It was not there a few seconds ago.

“You’re naked!” I shouted, placing my hands over my eyes as if I saw the devil. My cheeks burned, and as much as I tried to hide it, my breath quickened.

“Well, well. You are pure… in every sense,” his voice drawled, carrying its weight over the walls. Its tone was muffled by the large skull.

Its laughter bounced off the walls, sounding closer to me. “Haven’t you seen goats until now, peasant? I assumed you grew up with them,” it chuckled, the sound deep. “You can lower your arms. I bet you will see much worse in the days to come.” Its innuendo was not lost on me.

I wouldn’t do that even if I were dead.

Seeing that I cannot be persuaded, it sighed and moved past me. Its permanent smell of wax and old tomes hit me, intensifying every sensation I had.

The images of the brute’s full body kept resurfacing one after another behind my eyes. I pushed my arms harder on my lids, making myself see stars. Perhaps, in that way, I could forget it.

Despite the cold from the cave, my skin felt warmer. At fault must have been the coat it forced on me.

“Fine, we will do it this way, then,” it lamented.

After a few moments, I heard the water splash, each footfall of it registering in my mind.

“I am covered by glacier water. Would you look at me now?”

Still, I did not move my arms, my breathing slowing down, and my skin feeling ablaze.

“Or are you afraid of me?” Its voice sounded ashamed, like I was hurting him. It was the first time he talked without anger or mockery in his voice.

At once, I took my hands off my face. My cheeks were still warm, and I didn’t dare to look at the Goat Man. So, I pushed my head upwards, admiring the ceiling. My eyes opened to stalactites with dripping water over their tips.

“I am still here, you know?” it asked, the water moving around.

My mind took a stray path, down the road of me having to take the lives of two people. “I know,” I breathed, closing my eyes again. I couldn’t escape its presence, even if I wanted to.

Drops of water fell on my face as tears. I wiped them, keeping my eyes on the pointy stalactites.

“Then why are you not looking at me?”

“You said to take off my arms. I did that,” I argued, trying not to faint from all the emotions “Now, please, answer my questions.” My voice was softer than a breeze, my heart fluttering in my chest like a bird in its cage.

I chastised myself for not wearing my metanie, the black beaded bracelet my mother had from priest Neagu. She gave that to me when I turned ten years old. At least it would have given me courage with the devil from my left.

Neither Angelica nor I had any jewellery; only these metanii. It is said to protect us from every evil, since they were drenched in holy water.

“Yes, you will pass through the same ritual as I. After I bathed in this water, my master, who will become yours as well, will have to baptise you in this same pool,” it took a deep breath before continuing. “Or as we all know it, the Souls’ Pool.”

“The one you are tainting with that naked body?” I said, squirming inside of me.

“Do I have to remind you that you bathe in a river?” it mocked.

“You…”

Its laughter filled my thoughts. The Goat Man saw me naked?

The beast wouldn’t stop roaring, the sound making me want to hit the skull with a broom constantly. Another wave of heat crossed my cheeks.

“I…haven’t…seen…” it was out of breath by the time he finished his sentence, “you… in your Eve’s costume!”

“Amusing.” I sighed, closing my eyes. “Do you take me for a fool, Goat Man?”

It coughed, stopping his roaring. “A fool, not. A feeble human, yes.”

With the corner of my eye, I saw the Goat straightening its skull.

“I did not, nor will I see you naked, human.”

“Alright. Let us not tarry on matters of bare flesh,” I muttered in my chest.

Chuckling, he continued. “Every one of us has two forms. One, which is this, with the skull that we choose at the baptism. And our human form. You will be presented with two skulls on your baptism day.”

“Human form?” I repeated, blinking. “Why don’t you use it?”

“And to be fragile? No, thank you.”

Ignoring its response, I wiped water again from my face. “But I am baptised,” I remarked, my hands crossing my chest.

“No, human. Not by a god. Your god does not offer you bodily eternity. My master, does.”

“But I do not want eternity! My God promises that my soul will live forever in Heaven.”

It snorted, delicate splashes surrounding its body. “You still seem to think that after you keep the part from our contract, you will get there?”

Anguish captured my body. It was right, what if I won’t see my family in the skies? What if we were separated by Earth? Or them in Heaven and I in Hell?

“But, returning to your previous questions, as I, you will become immortal. You won’t feel sickness, nor injuries,” the Goat said, the water moving around its body. “You will not feel hunger as you do now, your throat won’t be dry as it is now.”

“But I’ve seen you eat and drink, like any of us.”

At least that is what I gathered from Andrei, who cooked meals more than my mother and me. Each day, he prepared a different recipe and would frown when I would try and help him.

The Goat Man sighed. My neck was getting strained, and my muscles were in pain from keeping my eyes on the ceiling.

“I said that you won’t feel hunger as you do now. But you will still feel it.”

I bit my cheek. Then I voiced the words that stood behind my doubt. “I cannot kill any man, woman or child,” I murmured, noticing a small gap in the ceiling. No light came through; the night must have set already for good.

“Not even if they were…evil?” it tried.

“I do not think so…” I replied, trying to conjure any memory I had when my father raised his hands at my sister or me. But not once have I wished his death.

“Hmm…”

The sound rumbled on my skin, raising goosebumps again. It crawled on the surface as though spiders weaved their webs on my skin, making it hotter than it should have been.

I heard him take a deep breath. “I saw your life before I took you. And after.”

“What do you mean by that?” I almost looked at the brute, forgetting its undressed state.

The Goat Man ignored my question and went on with its idea. “I saw that you care for stray animals and for your family. You donate old clothing to the people in need from the parish. I know you help your neighbours with every little thing they ask.” I heard rustling from my left, like a hand breaking the water. “And that should be your motivation. If you do not deliver the ten souls, then you’ll visit some graves.”

I masked my inner turmoil with another question. “What happens after I…collect all these souls?”

The water sloshed again. Its body moved to the edge of the pool, resting its hooves on it. “You can either choose to live in your elevated form, or I assume you die.” His shoulders lifted. “And I will become human.”

I shifted my gaze to the Goat Man. Marching up to the pool’s edge, my feet reached its elbows. “You did not say this! And it was not written in your aggravating contract!”

One of its long hind legs stretched over the skull’s chin. “Did I miss writing that part?” He smacked the skull’s lips. “Or you did not read it, because the distress took over your thoughts?”

It was the first time seeing it up close, my prudishness getting in the way. Its skull was ivory, and behind it stood the abyss. In the candlelight, I could peek at two white eyes, engraved with dark swirls. It made me wonder how the Goat Man looked as a human being. Would the man behind be handsome, or would it be gruesome as its Soul Ripper form?

“And how is the return to human form achieved?” Its last words puzzled me. If it were this eternal being, why would he want to become mortal?

“None of your business,” he said curtly. “Therefore, human, you will either perish for your family to mourn you, or you will see them wither away. Either way, I win.” The Goat pushed off the edge, the cold water touching the shoulders, making swirls in the abyss.

I gritted my teeth.

My heart wept tears with all these answers he gave me.

“What will you gain from my suffering?” I asked, turning myself from him.

“Whatever my gain is, it does not concern you.” Its answer showed me how little this brute was. I might have been gentle, and I might have wanted to look strong in this penitence of mine. But the creature who stood behind me was a small being.

It either meant that its stake was high or that the Goat Man liked tormenting people. Or both.

Shaking my head of those thoughts, I asked the last question that crossed my mind. “When will this baptism take place?” My fingers curled, thinking that I would have to swim in this world of the unknown, and not only that. I will have to murder people.

“In five days. One day before your first collection,” it replied, his voice dead.

“What is with the stags?” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“Another excellent question. I don’t know.”

I sighed, fixing my eyes on a torch, its flames distracting me from the infuriating Goat Man.

“You are shallow, Goat. I offered my soul, and you give nothing but crumbs in return. I was raised to be a good person with fear of God. But I see you not as a God, nor a demon. But as a petty immortal.” I took a deep breath, my eyes following the blaze of the torch.

“You want me to do your own work, but you mock me. I accepted my fate without grieving what my life could have been. I left my mother alone, since my sister will leave with her husband. And you offer scraps.”

I did not even notice it getting out of the water. Its warm breath heated my skin as the Goat Man talked over my ear.

“You will see your family only through your Souls’ Mirror. Do you think their human mind will understand what you are?” he chuckled. “The stags perhaps appeared here only because they are one option for your new form, the other one unknown to me.”

The Goat Man took a step back, the heat of its words stabbing my heart. “When it was my time, it was a goat and a cat. I thought the cat was too trivial for a role as mine, so I embraced the goat form.”

I bit my bottom lip, thinking what else I could choose if not a stag. The ones that stood vigil outside reacted to me as if I were their master.

Oblivious to my thoughts, the Goat Man spoke further. “Taking the skull off your head returns you to an enhanced version of your human body. There will be no more heat or cold that could affect you. You will never be wet from the rain or drenched in sweat when the blistering sun is up in the sky.” It took a deep breath, raising the hairs on my arms. “And you’ll never feel a beat within your chest.”

The coat on me was drenching my skin in sweat. Not its words and its proximity. Those were blistering my mind and heart.

My mind couldn’t filter any word as its scent reached my nose.

I felt its eyes on the nape of my neck. My breathing became shallow, this new world making me want to dive into the pool. All the thoughts that passed through my head could not expel the pressure the Goat Man placed on me.

The cold from the cave did nothing to destroy the blaze I felt on my back.

“Do you have your answers, Ana?”

Its breath briefly touched my ears, as if making this on purpose. My name on its lips sent another tremor through my body.

“No,” I replied, turning to him.

And my heart rampaged.

The Goat Man

She had gold speckles in her icy blue eyes, veiled by her dilated pupils.

Blood rushed beneath her skin, colouring her already tainted cheeks. Her breathing quickened, her nostrils flaring. The scent of summer flowers invaded my senses, and my hand twitched to touch her hair.

“Those eyes… they do not belong to this world,” she whispered, her iciness travelling over my skull.

“Yes, you’ll have them too.”

Her eyes continued to move as if counting how many souls I had taken.

“When you get baptised, your eyes will turn completely white. Once you take your first soul, the first blue swirl appears,” I explained, but I was not sure if she was listening.

We stared into each other’s eyes. Moments, hours, days must have passed, or at least that is what my mind made me believe. Her gaze roamed from one eye to the other as though she were looking at a man.

And not the Goat Man.

I had the urge to take off my skull and show her what lay behind it.

“What more would you like to know?” I whispered over her lips, her head tilting slightly upwards. I felt her body shiver, leaning slowly towards mine.

I straightened as if waking from a nightmare.

Because that was the human before me. A nightmare that stood between me and my long-time wish. And not even countless golden speckles swimming in the bluest sea would make me relent.

The movement made her wake from the reverie. She closed her eyes and took a step back. When she opened them, she looked straight at the ceiling.

“How would I know which soul is evil?” she repeated her question, her neck turning scarlet.

I went to grab my cloak, satisfied that she felt flustered under my gaze. Water dripped from my body, making the stone slippery. I placed the mantle over my shoulders, invoking one settee, its velvety brown fabric tempting me to slumber.

“You will see in the Souls’ Mirror,” I said, stretching my legs over the settee.

“You mentioned it before. What is…?” She turned to me, her eyes roving over the settee. “Will I be able to do that as well?” Her mouth opened, her legs carrying her with a strut to the foot of the divan. Her fingers grazed the velvet, a smile spreading over her lips.

She forgot everything about her internal turmoil and the sins she might commit.

She had a ravishing smile, my mind wanting to see it on many more occasions. But how could one achieve that?

I shook my head, dispelling the thought and cleared my throat. “Yes, you can do that too, once you have your final form.”

My feet jerked at the touch of her coat. “What is the Souls’ Mirror?” she echoed her question, her dark eyebrows joining.

“It’s a mirror that you will receive on the day of your baptism. It will show you your next soul to take. Besides that, it will also reveal to you the reason why he or she is evil.”

Her eyebrows rose. “We only had a mirror at home. It belonged to my mother,” her voice became softer, as if she was lost in thought. “She promised to give it to me for my dowry.”

“Well, since you’ll be something more, you can conjure yourself whatever trinket.”

She shot daggers with her eyes. “Yes, instead of building a family of my own, I have to be a judge of souls.” Her hands fretted in front of her skirt, leaving stains behind.

I sighed, my patience with the woman thinning with each word. “You will also receive a scythe that will be used as your weapon,” I explained, conjuring mine. Its dark blade shone in the torchlight, the handle smoother than silk.

Her eyes tracked the large blade, and I sent it back to the cave.

“Why do I need it? Can’t I,” she took a deep breath in search for words, “take a soul without it?”

I huffed. “The scythe and the Mirror are somewhat linked. If you do not use the blade, then the Mirror does not recognise the souls taken.” My lips pouted, remembering a time when I took the lives of an entire army with my thought alone. “Believe me, I tried that once.”

My master was not happy.

“How did you become the Goat Man?”

Her question felt too personal, too close to my own inquiries.

“I believe that is a story for another time, woman,” I urged, standing on my hooves and sending the settee back to my imagination. Spending too much time in her presence unnerved me.

I strutted to the stairs, and as my hooves touched the first step, she asked something else.

“Will you stand beside me when the baptism comes?”

Turning fully to her, a pair of blue eyes was fixed on me. They were filled with quiet hope – that she wouldn’t be alone in this new and odd situation.

“No, I have to prepare for my new life which awaits,” I said flatly, turning, my coat brushing the stones. I climb the stairs two by two. Why did this human’s existence make me run? And why did she have to ask such questions?

No one was there to hold my hand while I emerged from the deep waters, watched by dozens of skulls from different species, to comfort me while I took the scythe and cut bones with it for the first time. I remembered the blood that dripped from the blade. It stained my clothes, and my then servant couldn’t get it out. And more importantly, to hug me when I saw my siblings covered in blood.

I was not going to support her while all the other members of the Order would stare at her, crying and thrashing.

They would have no mercy either way.

As I stated before, I couldn’t care less about her. I threw her to the wolves. I would be surprised if she turned out not to be a sheep. The Order had immense power, and I was glad that for my plan, the Elk was on my side.

If I were to succeed.

With that thought in mind, I was hit by the fresh night air, the stars keeping the moon company.

The stags surrounded my horse, which lay asleep. Not a care in the world, this one.

The stags’ antlers shone in the moonlight, their bodies hidden by the night’s shadow. Only their gazes were visible, following my steps. Each turned its head as I walked further towards my horse.

I whistled, and the stallion leapt to its feet, the stags glancing my way. I didn’t have to be at the baptism to know what skull she would choose. There was no better option than the stag.

As if I had conjured her, she emerged from the cave, discarding the sheepskin coat at the entrance. I stood still, watching her move as swiftly as a lady of high birth.

Her dark hair was loosened from the braid, and her eyes were set on my horse. My brows knitted as I took in her determined walk. “Where are you going, human?”

She stopped, turning her head slightly. “To pray.”

I laughed so hard that the stags rose and eyed me again. But my laughter died as she climbed onto my stallion. She lifted her chin, but she bristled under the gust of wind I sent her way.

Taking the reins, she turned my horse towards the forest, her shoulders straight. “I believe we must sleep this night and see what tomorrow brings. Don’t you think the same, Goat?” she shouted over the wind. Every stag turned towards her, as though she were a beacon of light.

Earlier, she made me realise that I had a name before I became the Goat Man.

Which was it?

I did not enjoy being called ‘Goat’ by her. The irony didn’t escape, as she surely didn’t appreciate me using the words peasant and human when addressing her.

Casting that aside, I watched as my formerly loyal horse shook its mane.

“Let’s see if the horse doesn't buck you first!” I laughed, the throaty sound making the old church’s walls tremble.

The horse kicked its hind legs and galloped through the woods.

“Damned creature!” I screamed into the wind.

I did not have to make this easy on them.

With my hands up, the trees from the forest bent, their branches arching into a crown. Their long arms intertwined, their leaves shining in the starlight like diamonds.

The human bent her head, just as a branch filled with needles passed over, catching my horse on its back. The stallion galloped faster, making her jump, her braid coming undone. Her hair was blown by the horse’s speed, black strands flowing behind her.

Her crystalline laughter, carried by the wind, boiled my blood as she escaped my grasp. It made my pulse stop at how beautiful the sound was and how I wanted to silence it.

Mocking the Goat Man was no reason for her to laugh.

Not when the image of my lips silencing her rambling crossed my mind.

If for her taking a soul would be a sin, for me kissing a lesser being would be a ticket straight into my master’s blade.

I raised my hands again, and the ground rattled, roots growing from the dirt, trying to ensnare my stallion. Its hooves passed swiftly through the jarring dirt, my attempts to slow them down futile.

My next attack at delaying them was to send a flock of crows after them. Even though such birds did not roam the sky in the night, I summoned them at my behest. Dozens of them surrounded the human and my stallion, their caws deafening.

But my horse, being the finest on Earth, escaped them with incredible speed.

I stood there and watched as they became a dot in the distance, leaving me stranded.

Damn that girl and that horse!

Clever girl, nonetheless.

Walking home, I sent my skull back to the cave. I had no idea why I hadn't shown my true form to her. My human appearance would have made her relate to me in some way.

I didn’t want that.

The road back home on foot was invigorating, to say the least. I had time to think thoroughly. It took me the whole night, but as the sun crept into the sky, I had my future life planned out.

Mostly, I dreamt with my eyes open about what I would do as soon as I felt my heartbeat again. There was plenty of blood in my body. My stomach could receive food and beverages, my brain could think and analyse, and my nose could detect everything from the sweetest to the spiciest fragrances. And yet, there was no heart pumping blood.

That thing I mentioned to the wretched human, but I didn’t think she registered that piece of information.

Another piece I should have said to her was what I put in small writing at the end of the page. But since she fell into my mirage, I couldn’t. And I was tired of answering questions about my life and the gloomy world that I was a part of.

Reaching the lair I was given by my master, I saw my servant, grabbing the horse’s reins.

“Where is the human?” I demanded, my hood slipping from my head. I marched to him, my toes dipping in the dirt and burnt grass.

The boy circled the air, his eyes widening with fear. “Master, she is not here!” He dropped the pitchfork he was holding with a thump.

“What do you mean, she is not here?” I hissed, looking over and under the horse, as if she could hide there.

“I-I…” he babbled, his eyes rolling uncontrollably. Not only were his eyes acting strangely, but also his head. It turned as if he had no bones in his neck. Well, he didn’t.

Whirling around, I made the trees bend, and the ravens fall from the sky, leaving their bodies for the boy to clean.

I had to find her.

The bond of the contract wouldn’t let her leave this lair and its immediate surroundings, unbeknownst to her. She would have serious injuries, which would end her life faster than one can say Fish!

A thing that I’d written on the paper. But, being curled up in her own nightmares, she omitted it.

My blood was flowing faster than usual. Something wet dripped onto my hair, and I looked up to the sky.

In my walk from the old citadel to my cave, I didn’t notice how dark the clouds had turned, how, instead of a light breeze, the wind intensified.

I had to get to her before all my plans were ruined by her stubbornness.

The ghost went inside the cave, floating against the wind. I stepped towards the stable, but the boy shouted, stopping me.

“Master!” the ghost yelled, floating to me. “Someone is waiting for you!”

My hand passed through his throat, making him gasp. “Who?”

“Goat, already relinquishing your skull?” The mocking voice of my master filled me with dread.

Leaving the ghost to scurry off, I turned to my master.

The Elk wore its skull proudly as if it were part of its body. Its stature towered over me. Its heavy hooves left prints on the dirt, pushing down tufts of grass. It was unusual to see it outside its cave. Therefore, my suspicions grew as the Elk stepped in front of me.

Its maroon cloak was embellished with yellow threads, contrasting with its spirit. The storm that was brewing was his command. Nothing shiny could come out of such darkness.

“What wonder brings you here?” I asked, placing my hands behind my back, a sign of respect which was expected of us, the lower level of the Order.

I felt my back straightening, pushed by the power of the Elk. I summoned my skull with my mind and placed it back. My stomach turned upside down at the stench of death it collected over the centuries.

The Elk tilted its massive antlers, letting them fall on its broad shoulders. “Dear Goat, I came to see the one who would grant our wishes.” The Elk stepped forward. As it walked, the cloak opened, giving a peek of brown fur. “Your servant told me you were visiting the Souls’ Pool. Why is that, hm?” The rumbling of his voice vibrated the ground. “You won’t join the procession?” It tilted its head to the other side. It took a step, leaves gathering behind its cloak as a second layer.

“No, master,” I said, bowing.

“It is of no importance whether you participate or not. Alas, I would have to choose someone else to teach her our ways.” It straightened its head, taking another step towards me. My head snapped as an invisible force raised it.

“I didn’t fail to notice that your horse returned alone.”

Dread filled my bones, and I felt my body being pulled closer.

“You appear all humanly, and the girl is nowhere to be found,” the Elk said with disgust in its voice. My feet were pulled into the air, floating like the ghost who watched petrified from the threshold of the cave.

Although we Souls’ Rippers, do not have a heart, there were many other ways to torture us. Our fears and wounds are heightened: cuts feel deeper than humans’, aches intensify faster.

The Elk took pleasure in torturing the souls it claimed. In my early years of being a Souls’ Ripper, I witnessed my master dismember a woman who tortured animals for fun. As if it were personal, that the woman took the lives of her whole herd of sheep.

I tried asking the Elk to dim down the torment, but then it took my fingers. Only when I begged on my knees did it put them back.

“If you lied about having a pure soul in your possession and trying to bring it to our side, then your horns might find a new place to hang on your body.” Wind rustled my cloak. “Because your proposal of turning a pure soul into a Soul Ripper might come in handy for my plan too.”

“Which plan?” I whirled my head in its direction, clueless about what it was talking about.

I felt its hatred through its skull. Still, the Elk let me out of its trance, and I gasped as my pulse resumed its flow.

My master started pacing in front of the cave, its cloak floating in its breeze. “Your proposal sparked an idea in my head. If you manage to create a Soul Ripper from a pure spirit, then we could do that too. And instead of recruiting only the most nefarious souls, we could collect others, too.”

I nodded, not really caring about that.

Once the tenth soul was collected, I was out of this darkness.

“But if you ruined this, then everything goes away!” Its scream tore the trees in two and then glued them back. My head pounded, and I brought my fingers to my skull.

“Hello!”

Her soft, sweet voice was the greatest sound I had heard in that moment. I felt as if I could kiss her toes and worship the ground she walked on. But then she genuinely smiled at my master, making me eye her through slits.

Why would she smile? It was not kind; it was not good. It was the opposite of what she was.

She bowed once as if the eternal Elk were royalty.

In a way, it was.

It had the largest antlers of us all. It could reach the highest branch of an apple tree. Neither of us had seen its human form, and to be honest, I did not wish to. Its voice could bend the ground to its liking, its wishes always coming true.

The Elk bowed to the girl as well, its antlers brushing her ie. My blood flowed faster to my head as I stepped closer to her. I felt the need to push the woman away from my master.

She was mine to wield, not its.

I had the sense of possession in my bones, and I was not fond of it.

“So, you are the girl who offered her soul for her father,” my master mused, one of its hooves pressing once on the grass. Its words lingered in the air, clearing a smidge of dark clouds above us.

The woman only nodded, fixing my master with her eyes.

“Hmm, and you’ve never hurt a man in your life?” The Elk tilted its head, one of its antlers resting on its shoulder.

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Not even an animal?” The Elk lowered its head to the other side, observing the girl.

“No, God wouldn’t let me,” she said, this time louder. Her head was held high, defiance in her glacial eyes.

If I could carry feelings, I would have been proud of her. But her expression changed when the Elk started howling. She winced, taking a step back, her ears turning red.

“Darling girl, there are no gods, saints and other things you kneel for between painted walls!” the Elk roared, its laughter endless.

I watched the woman as her fists clenched. Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. “If I believe that there are beings worth kneeling for, what is it to you? I would still keep my contract with the Goat Man!”

My eyebrows shot up. There was nobody who could reply to my master in that manner.

“Oh, is that right?” the Elk asked, the grass freezing at our feet.

I moved in front of the woman, but she would not have my protection. She went around me and stood taller in front of my master.

“Yes. Neither of us has to hurt any being without defence. And if I understood it right, you are a server of justice,” she said. Pausing to collect her words, she blinked. “You take evil souls out of this world, keeping the balance.”

Her idea made me raise my brows. I knew she was smart, but seeing her twist the spirit of the Elk in her favour, flicked something in me.

The Elk pondered the retort, its upper hooves clapping. “I will let you live, girl. Only because I want to see how this,” it crossed one hoof in the air between the woman and me, “plays out.”

My master then stepped towards the forest, waving at us, its antlers drizzled by the light rain.

And then, it was gone.

Watching her back relax, I stepped forward, right into her shadow.

“Where were you?” I asked, my voice sharp as if it could cut the thick branches of the firs. I made one of them fall, its needles dropping to the earth. The thump resonated in the woods, bouncing off the ground.

The human turned around, taking a step back. She pinned me with her eyes, defiance playing among the iciness. “In the stables,” she said loudly.

I snapped my head towards the servant. “You said she was gone!”

“I-I…didn’t…” he stammered over his own words, his ghostly eyes rolling continuously.

I drew the mud and patches of ripped grass beneath him, pushing his form down.

“Stop it!” the girl ordered, placing her body between my servant and me. “We are not your rag dolls!”

I squinted my eyes at her, halting the servant’s body from descending into the pits of the Earth. The dirt covered everything except his head, his mouth opened into a silent plea.

My cloak thrashed in the wind I created with my fuming thoughts.

“If not that,” I said, pulling her body closer, “what are you?”

She gasped, her blue eyes widening from the movement. Something nagged at me, and I released the hold on her body, retreating into my chamber.

As soon as my body touched the mattress made of goose feathers, I pulled the covers over me.

Damn that woman and everything she touched.

Ana

As soon as the Goat Man left and my lungs worked again, I rushed to aid the ghost who thrashed and thrashed, trying to get out of the trap his master had set. The dirt looked like an anthill, Andrei being the only ant.

I stopped in front of him, watching the continuous movement of the ghost’s head, his eyes rolling.

“You can pass through walls, can’t you?” I inquired, placing my hands on my hips.

It stopped, Andrei’s eyes fixing on my face. “I can do that, yes.” His voice sounded strangled, fear coating it.

“Well, can you not lift yourself?” My eyebrows shot up. I would have helped the poor soul if my hands didn't pass right through his body.

“I believe I can.” With a sudden move, he stood in front of me, the ground rearranging itself. “Thank you, woman,” he said, a small smile spreading over his translucent lips.

“No problem,” I responded, sharing the smile. “Please, call me Ana. That is the name my parents gave me.” In our times, it was usual to give the babies saint names and the godmother’s name. My godmother was my grandmother, who did not want to have her first name passed down, considering it outdated: Brândușa. She was named after one of the first flowers that bloomed in the spring.

“The one who has this name is a good soul and faithful,” the ghost said, taking me out of my memories. He floated to me, the smile remaining on his face.

“Yes, indeed. Although my mum named me after Ana, Manole’s wife, and Saint Ana,” I explained, gathering my hair over my shoulders. It was wet from the rain that still drizzled.

“It suits you. Ana, the woman who sacrificed herself for her husband and his monastery. The one who let herself be built into the walls, so her husband could take all the glory.” He ignored the saint part, as I expected.

Chuckling, I started to walk towards the entrance of the cave. “Do you feel better, Andrei?”

He stopped floating, watching me from the corner of his eye. “No one has used my name since my death. It’s been more than a year now,” he sighed, his eyes moving towards the ground.

“With a master like yours, I would be afraid to utter anything,” I mumbled, looking at the entrance to its room with disdain.

I understood that the Goat Man did not want to come to my mythical baptism, but at least, he should have answered all my questions. I wanted more details on what I would have to expect from my new life.

“And still, woman... sorry, Ana,” he corrected, “you’re not.”

My brows furrowed. “Of course, I am scared of him. But sometimes, my blood boils, and I do not want to give it satisfaction.”

He nodded. “He is tired of ripping souls on and on and on,” Andrei babbled, his head moving in the direction I was looking.

“Sure, and that is why it needs another servant.”

“Exactly! You are not as slow-minded as he thinks!” he cheered, his hands going into the air.

I tilted my head. “The brute thinks of me as stupid?”

That hurt more than I could imagine. Was the love I carried for living beings making me stupid in their eyes? I thought kindness was a strength that was slowly disappearing from the Earth.

It is much easier to be evil and hurt people than to be selfless and help your peers.

I tilted my head, my eyebrows furrowing. “You and your master have the wrong impression that a peasant girl must be naïve or lack certain skills. Being humble and a good person does not make me stupid.”

I turned my back to him, the cold air from the cave refreshing after the time spent in the heat.

“You’re right, I apologise,” Andrei said, floating faster to me. “Sometimes, I return to being the person I was before death.”

“And that was?” I asked, curious about the boy he was before.

We entered the kitchen, where the soup was boiling on the stove. The smell of freshly cooked tăiței mixed with the aroma of vegetables and chicken made my stomach growl. I took a seat as he poured some into a small ceramic bowl, then he filled a mug with homemade wine.

Andrei tsked. “You stood up to the Elk, you’ve earned my story.” He passed through the chair in front of me as if nothing. “I was an angry boy since I can remember. My mum never acted badly towards me. She always treated me nicely, I would say. But I was always wrecking something, or pulling a cat’s tail, or pranking her by placing a rat under her pillow. I just thought that by torturing lesser beings, I would pass the darkness to them.”

He was so nonchalant about it that I wanted to slap him. If I didn’t know there was a shimmer of goodness in him, I would have suggested that he hold hands with the Elk.

“There is nothing in this world that I do not despise more than a person who torments innocent beings, ghost!” My tone was harsh, forcing him to take a step back.

“I understand; that is why I feel better in death.”

His words made my mouth dry, and my hands started shaking. My thoughts flew to him, taking his own life. In my faith, if one were to commit something like this, they would not receive a sermon. They would just be buried, and that was it.

It was hard not to see the light of day when your mind was filled with dark voices. My mum thought about this once or twice, especially when my father would belittle my sister or me. She would not see the end of the tunnel; she would not see her daughters.

Angelica and I had to drag her to church in the middle of the night, without our father knowing. Just to get her to talk to Priest Neagu.

My mum confessed about the plague in her mind, and the priest listened. He managed to steer her away from her devils.

“Did you…” I began, but he held his transparent hands in the air.

“One night, I dragged a goat from the field, blade in hand, hoping to leave its severed head by my mum’s bed.” He embraced himself, his bottom lip wobbling. “Inside me, I relished seeing my poor mum afraid of me. I liked that. But after I caught the goat, I released it.”

His eyes pinned me. “I didn’t want to do it anymore, but the voices in my head spoke louder and louder, and I didn’t know how to make them stop. And then the Goat Man appeared, and I begged him to take me.”

I closed my eyes, feeling remorse for the lost soul of Andrei. I tried to understand the turmoil inside him, and even if I did not have the same experience as him, I felt for him. Some souls and minds are lost, and without proper guidance, they would never find their place on this Earth.

“The Goat Man took me, and I watched as my mum grieved me. For a very long time, she sang doine in the field alone, staring at the sky.” He bristled, making a sound like a dog shaking its fur. “I can still hear the sorrowful chant…”

“Have you gone to her since your death?” I whispered, seeing stars behind my eyes.

“Sometimes, I roam my old home and watch as she just exists.”

My eyelids sprang open, and tears gathered in my eyes. “I am so sorry, Andrei. For everything you lived.”

He nodded. “You should not apologise. And as for my master, he is not that cruel. The Goat Man showed me mercy when I could no longer bear life.”

I gritted my teeth. “Someone who seems to do this for pleasure does not look merciful.”

His eyes snapped to me. “He is a tormented soul as well, Ana! He did horrible things, or at least they say, and now he is living his punishment.”

“And is that why the Goat treats us like dirt?”

We stayed quiet until I finished everything and drank the mug of wine.

“You call that brute a man?”

His brows furrowed. “Under that mask, Ana, he is still a man.”

That was frightening me. I would have rather seen him as a brute and not a man.

“How old is the Goat Man?” The question popped out of my mouth without even thinking.

Andrei shrugged, his forehead wrinkling. “His story has existed for centuries, but so have the other ones.”

“Others?” I asked, taking the last sip of wine. “You also mean his master? The Elk?”

He dipped his chin, looking at the hole that separated the hallway from the kitchen, as though he was afraid of being heard. “Yes. I am not sure what they are. A coven, a group, a pack, or a hoard?” He placed one finger on his chin. “But I know that all of them have horns.”

“And they are all from Romania?” I asked, fretting with my hands.

“You read, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “Do you know elk to be in Romania?” he questioned, his head leaning on the right side.

I shook my head. This implied that they were from everywhere and nowhere.

And all of them will be witnesses to my baptism.

I swallowed and pushed myself away from the table, images of animal skulls watching me as I emerged from the Souls’ Pool played behind my eyes.

I watched Andrei, thinking that, if he gave me one piece of information, I should do it too.

“I was in the stables earlier,” I began, fiddling with my fingers. “I just stayed hidden, in one dark corner. I grieved once more the life I could have had, if it weren't for your master.”

“Why?” he asked, taking a crempita out of a large tray. The smell of vanilla replaced the one of the soup by magic. Vanilla was hard to find in any household, so how did a ghost procure it?

But as soon as Andrei placed a piece of the dessert in front of me, I forgot everything. He cleared his throat, waiting for my answer.

“Why did I grieve my life?” I asked between mouthfuls. “Because here is darkness and there was light, colour.” I grabbed another piece from the tray, the powdered sugar coating my fingers. “I miss my mum and my sister, even the animals that I had to take care of. I long for the church and Priest Neagu’s sermons filled with wisdom. But the hurtful one is that I won’t see Angelica, my sister, being a bride and many other things.” My heart pounded louder at the mention of my younger sister. I imagined her darker eyes shimmering with tears and hidden by a veil.

“You said things. Which one is the last?” Andrei was perceptive.

I took a deep breath. “The most I would miss is having a family of my own.” The pain was too raw. My dream of having a good husband and a child was wrecked for selfish reasons. “That is why I despise this contract I was pushed into.”

We stayed in silence for a few moments.

“Would you mind if I made my room warmer? I shall miss the feeling of it after…” I gulped.

“Oh, we don’t have that much wood left,” Andrei shrugged. “Neither my master nor I can really feel the cold.”

“But then, I might catch a cold and…”

Wind blew somewhere in the distance, the clack of hooves echoing in the cave.

“I saved your life, peasant. If it wasn’t for me, you would still be hurt by your father, watching uselessly as he plagued your family.” The voice of the Goat Man made me swallow my words. “And yet, you complain.”

I held my head high, trying to still my heartbeat, which betrayed me whenever the brute was nearby.

Its words held truth in them, I couldn’t deny it, in one matter more than the other. That I would have been pointless in aiding my mum and sister.

Every time my father’s hand came down on one of our cheeks, we would cower in the corner. When I was thirteen, I placed myself between him and Angelica. He beat both of us with whatever he could find. Whether it was a belt, a rod from the apple tree, or the broom’s handle, his hands were never empty.

All leaving marks on my skin.

I was too fearful to intervene after that. If I acted out of my place, the punishment would have been harsher on Angelica. As much as I could, I would take my sister out of the house, running around on the crops, hills or village. Just to keep her sane.

Afterwards, I would go to my mum to tend to her wounds.

There were times when I wondered if I had done the right thing by sacrificing myself for him. He still had one hand which could inflict pain. I just hoped that Gavril would help both my mum and my sister.

I turned my head towards the Goat Man, my nostrils flaring. “I hope you will get what you deserve,” I said, taking one step towards him. “Remember this, Goat, while you will be roaming the ground as a man, without your almighty power, I will be carrying the weight of it. And who knows, I might turn it against you.”

Goat took the hood off its head, its skull gleaming in the candlelight. It stood at its full height, towering over me.

The threat I launched stood between us like a blade.

The Goat Man stepped closer to me, the breeze it carried bringing his wax and old books scent, making me swallow.

“Throwing threats around, Ana?” it asked, its voice smoky, my head conjuring its touch earlier. It was a hand. A hand which made me curious and frightened at the same time.

What lay behind the skull?

“Have you forgotten that you cannot hurt anyone?” Its words lingered between us.

Something happened to me. I didn’t know how much impact your own name could have coming from the lips of an eternal being.

Inclining my head upwards, I stared into the deep blue swirls of its eyes. “Take it as you want.”

The blue swirls intensified, shining in the blaze of the candles. “If you so much want to play with fire, let’s get you burnt.”

Goat turned around, pushing my body to follow it.

One second, we were in the kitchen, sparring with words, and the next one, we were in his chamber, where a fire burned in the terracotta stove. My eyes caught the intricate airway it had in his room, the smoke floating outside through some tube.

A canopy bed filled with ponevi, red and black motifs meeting in the middle stood on the opposite wall. The blood and the darkness. Next to it was a small table with one chair, crimson wax and a raven’s feather placed neatly on top of yellow papers.

And the most heart-wrenching object was a large, golden mirror with red swirls like blood, circling in a dark matter. Crimson sparkles hit the glass from one corner to another.

“What is that?” I asked, my body being placed right in front of it.

Its hoof went past my ear as it tapped on the mirror’s glass. The Goat Man placed itself behind me, its eyes fixed on my reflection.

“Shall we stoke the fire inside you?”

Ana

Before my eyes was a family: two women washing their garments in the river. The sun was burning their skin, and they kept wiping the sweat from their foreheads. One had light blonde hair, sun rays reflecting on it and the other one, white threads slowly capturing her head.

A man joined them.

Without even a word, he slammed the older woman’s head on the bank of the river, frustration washing over his face. He was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear anything.

I pressed my ear to the mirror, but no sound came from it.

The younger woman ran away, hiding her face.

“Who are these?” I asked, the answer ringing in my head.

“This is the past,” the Goat Man came closer to me, tapping once on the mirror, enhancing their faces.

Indeed, it was.

That day, my mum and Angelica went to the river to wash all the dirty clothes from the previous day’s celebration.

This happened last year at the Girls’ Fair. Another year of failure for my family and me. I remembered how I stood, alone, in the middle of the meadow after a girl younger than me was picked as the last bride of the year. After the fair, my father picked up his belt. I couldn’t sit straight for a week.

That day, my mum chose to let me sleep in, and by the look on her face, she had not closed her eyes the entire night, tending to my wounds. I wore the scars he left me as a reminder, never to go astray from his words.

I watched my father using both of his hands to inflict pain. I had a surge of satisfaction that he had lost one of them. Quickly, I made the cross sign over my forehead and chest, dispelling the feeling.

The reflection of the Goat Man showed me its skull turned to the ceiling, and I knew it must have rolled its eyes.

“Can this Mirror show anything?” I asked, my eyes searching my mum’s face.

“It can show you anything I want.”

As soon as he spoke, the image changed.

The loving face of my mum cleared up, and in the next moment, it was covered by my father’s remaining hand. Her head jerked as my sister rushed to her side. In the next moment, my father grabbed Angelica and pushed her into the river.

“No!” I shouted. My hands gripped the mirror, shaking it.

My body floated softly onto the bed, its ponevi scratching my skin, tears filling my eyes.

“If you keep defying me like this, peasant,” it whispered in my ear, breaking my skin in goosebumps, “this will be their future.” Its eyes pinned mine through the mirror, its abyss swallowing me in. “You would do well not to offend me.”

My breath caught in my throat, a lump slowly forming. “Goat, I will offend you as much as I can when you think of me as nothing but a stupid peasant. I am so much more,” I spat through my teeth.

Its eyes narrowed behind the skull. My fingers twitched with the urge to take it down and see its true face.

“But you are a peasant. Are you ashamed of it?”

“Never! I would rather pinch my fingers with the needle while making my own clothing or burn my skin in the sun while tending to the crops than be something you are.”

“Hmm...”

The Goat Man tapped once on the mirror’s glass. My family appeared again, this time happier. My mum was cooking, my sister and Gavril were talking to his parents, and my father was nowhere to be seen. They looked more relaxed, not worried at all.

“Is this happening now?” I questioned, my gaze still scrutinising the glass.

Its humming was my answer.

“Did you expect them to feel your loss, didn’t you?” it sighed, warming my earlobe and sending sparks through my body.

I took a deep breath, my eyes darting to my chest. This time, I didn’t cower.

“Yes,” I stated.

The Goat Man took a step back.

“You can go. You saw enough,” he said, his hoof gesturing towards the hallway.

I turned to him. “How would I know that the last picture I’ve seen is the reality and you are not tricking me?”

“As you said earlier, you can take it as you want,” it said, echoing my words.

I nodded and took a step to leave.

“Oh, and woman? I do not think you are stupid,” it mumbled, its skull craned to the ceiling.

I stood with my back to it, sighing once. “Are you sure? Your actions say otherwise. But, if you believe that I am not, show it to me.”

The hallway felt like a breath of fresh air as I stepped into it. The rock floor was still hurting my feet, but in that moment, I felt like I deserved it.

“Get up, Ana!”

I pried my eyes open to the darkness of the cave. The ghost stood in the threshold of my room, lighting a candle.

“The wood arrived, and I need you to help me cut it. So, dress yourself and come!” Andrei urged, pulling a groan out of me. His body bobbed up and down, making the flames follow his movements.

I took one candle of my own and went to the bathroom. Quickly, I washed myself and dressed in clothes that appeared out of nowhere – a long hemp shirt with a leather belt, which men usually wore in our village. Next to them was a pair of tights that would help me move easily.

The sun hasn’t yet crept over the hills, waiting for the darkness to recede. Fresh air filled my lungs as I stepped towards the largest mound of wood I had ever seen. My parents would order two or three carts in the summer, and it should have been enough for the winter.

But before my eyes lay an entire forest.

“Why do you need so much wood?” I asked, walking to Andrei, who was floating over the mound.

“Since you arrived and complained about the cold in the cave, the master commanded me to order more,” he said, still floating.

My head snapped to him. Of course, the Goat Man would want his subject to live long enough to fulfil his selfish desire. I couldn’t see this as an act of kindness. Not from him.

“Why aren’t you cutting it?” I asked, searching the tool on the ground.

“I cannot find the blasted axe,” he whined and turned with his whole body. “Most likely, it’s in the stables where the beast slumbers.”

My brows furrowed.

“The horse does not like being woken up.”

“Then why would you wake me up?” I asked, placing the candle down.

“To ask you nicely to search for it.”

“You and your master demand too much of others. What if it turns wild on me?

“It won’t,” he assured.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“It likes you,” he replied too quickly, as if he had this conversation already planned.

With my heart in my throat, I took back the candle and went to the stable. The air was colder than I had expected, and the grass was coated with dew.

The stable was enormous, built to fit the size of the horse. I pressed my ear to the wooden door, but besides my quickened heartbeats, I couldn’t hear anything. The stallion should know better than to kill the only advantage his master had.

I’ve ridden it before; therefore, it must have had some kind of trust.

I took a deep breath. My fingers gripped the handle and pulled the door open. A light squeak replaced the silence as I squeezed myself and the candle inside the stable. The smell of fresh hay reached my nose, bringing memories of Angelica and me spreading it across our stable.

No sound reached my ears from the end of the wooden building, so I advanced further on my tiptoes.

On my left were multiple saddles for the horse. I admired the intricate designs, unfamiliar to me. Our saddles were simple, worn by time and passed from father to son. The ones I was looking at were cleaner and more elegant.

On my right were the tools I needed. Multiple axes in different sizes were perched on the stable’s walls. I went there and grabbed one that seemed light in my hand. Perfect for chopping wood.

The sound of a snort came from behind me. I swallowed, my heart accelerating as if my ticker wanted to run away. The horse was up. Its silence stunned me. It sniffed me and snorted again, as if I didn’t deserve its attention.

Its hooves clanked on the ground, making it tremble. The horse stepped backwards, creating space for me to turn. Once I did that, I was hit with the horrid smell of death coming from its mouth. My eyes fixed on its fangs, but it didn’t look as if it intended to attack. Its mouth opened in the shape of a smile.

Which made me laugh. “You’re a gentle boy, aren’t you?” I whispered, looking in its midnight eyes.

It shook its mane as if saying yes. Its large body blocked my way to the door.

“How about this?” I began, trying to calm my heart. “Let me help Andrei, and I will bring you something sweet to eat.”

While I was in the kitchen yesterday, I noticed a basket filled with apples. Andrei wouldn’t mind if I took some of them to feed the beast before me.

It snorted again, but it made way for me to pass.

“Thank you,” I said, bowing and hiding the axe behind my back, retreating to the stable’s door.

“Just as I thought. The beast does like you!” Andrei laughed, stretching his hand to the axe when he noticed me.

With a smile on my lips, I left the candle on the ground and brought the wood to him to cut it.

After some time, I replaced Andrei in splitting the wood into pieces that would fit in the terracotta stoves. The sun took over the darkness, its heat slowing us down.

The last month of summer, Secerar, was the hardest. It was the time of the year when we would take the wheat from the crops and turn it into flour. Besides that, we had to prepare the seeds from our vegetables for the next season.

As promised, after we took a break to eat, I went back to the stables with apples for the horse. Leaving the wooden door ajar, I went straight to it.

“Here you go,” I said, taking one apple and, with a steady hand, gave it to it.

The beast munched on the fruit, its tail wagging. The hay that was spread beneath it flew in the whole stable, pieces of it landing on my hair. The horse licked my hand, laughter bubbling in my throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Shivers broke on my skin. The horse nudged my hand for more apples, but I couldn’t move. Seeing that I had no intention of giving more, its snout moved to the basket.

“I asked you a question.”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep my heartbeat steady. Turning around and prying my eyes open, I saw the Goat Man standing in the stable door. I squinted, noticing that instead of hooves it had feet.

Moving my gaze over its hidden figure, I saw nothing beyond its abyss. Its cloaks were the same, dark, with small embellishments, either gold or silver. A contrast between my clothing and its.

“I do not have to answer to someone who cowers behind a hood.” My shoulders stood straighter as the Goat Man advanced.

The man, because Goat it was not then, kept his hands hidden, but I had a clear memory of one of them touching me. His feet brushed my opinci, and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. It was an odd sensation.

What lay behind the mask and cloak?

“I am still your master,” he said, his voice low and touching my skin.

The feelings this creature instilled in me were against my beliefs. As he waited for my reply, I prayed to God to illuminate my path and not to fall into his spider web.

“That you are, yes. On paper.” My retort came quickly, and my prayer was forgotten. “I am here to feed your horse.”

My eyes travelled to the hood, my fingers twitching to pull it back from his strange eyes.

The Goat Man sidestepped me, going to the stallion, which was still eating the apples. A smile broke over my lips.

I watched enthralled as the Goat Man took a brush and started to run it over the horse's coat. It stood quietly, under the power of its owner.

“For how long has this horse been your companion?” I asked, supporting my shoulder on one of the wooden poles that held the structure of the stable. The Goat Man stood behind the horse, hiding.

“Since the beginning.”

The answer was curt, but I felt his eyes on me. “And that is…?”

“A very long time ago,” he said, his mind far away. “I don’t remember,” he admitted.

“Will I forget my life too?” My voice became smaller, imagining that I had to unlearn everything about my family.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I heard the other members of the Order talking about their past lives, so you might still have memories.”

My brows furrowed. “And you do not.”

“And I do not,” he repeated, bending to brush the hair from the stallion’s legs.

It seemed odd to be calm around the Goat Man, to talk to him as if we were sharing a glass of mulled wine.

“Are you sure you won’t be able to come?” He knew what I was referring to – the baptism procession.

His head snapped, the cloak’s fabric dangling. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I do not like to repeat myself.”

I sighed. “Well, you think I am stupid; therefore, I have to ask countless times until your words register.”

The brush fell to the ground with a loud sound.

My arms were gripped by strong fingers, and my body was pushed against the wooden pole. The grip lessened, leaving me room to step away. But I couldn’t. Not when I was transfixed by the Goat Man’s chin.

What was happening to me that a piece of skin was keeping me grounded?

“I told you already, I do not consider you stupid. No one in the Order could stand against the Elk. Even if your belief in God is fiction, no one dares to even utter a word against my master.”

I swallowed, trying to see beyond the fabric. My belief in God was what drove me further into this wretched mission.

His words hit me. “I won’t let your world ruin mine.”

“What is my world, Ana?” he whispered, too close to me. His fingers disappeared from my hands, leaving iciness in their wake. Even if he didn’t hold me anymore, I stood there, staring at a patch of skin.

“Death. And mine is life.”

He took a step back, pulling his hood better on his face. “Soon, it will be yours too.” The Goat Man turned around, resuming brushing the horse.

“I won’t let your darkness swallow my light. My love for God is bigger than whatever lurks here.” My hands fretted. I was slowly waking up from the daze this creature had on me.

He snorted. “You’ll see, Ana, that darkness’s claws are larger and sharper than those of light.”

I stepped away from the horse, taking the empty basket. “Perhaps. But it will be worth fighting it.”

“With what? You won’t have a heart.”

His words made me stand straighter. “Why?”

“If your love,” he drawled, mocking the word, “is so strong for your god, then you will feel it without a heart.”

The sky descended on me in that moment. Without thinking, I placed my hand over his chest. The touch stilled both of us. But I was trying to find his pulse, whereas he was a statue under my fingertips.

“There’s no movement,” I whispered.

Instead of taking my hand away from his cloak, the Goat Man took my fingers and wrapped them around his wrist.

There was a pulse. His words from a few weeks ago came to me. And you’ll never feel your heart beating in your chest. I couldn’t pay attention then, due to my thoughts and high emotions.

When I moved my eyes away from our linked hands to his chin, I realised we were too close. It became too warm and too loud.

And with that, I left him alone with the horse.

The Goat Man

Never in my eternity had I been defied like this. And never in my life had I felt so close to erupting from a mere touch.

Despite that, the woman had fire in her blood, which I didn’t want to extinguish. No, I wanted to see it erupt and watch it wreck everything. And the fact that I respected her unnerved me more than her attitude.

My wretched servant, who was staring at me with a mug of wine in his hands, annoyed me more than the day I saved his death.

“What?” I roared, the furniture rattling on the ground.

His body floated to me, the wine sloshing on my pristine rug, making me groan inside.

“Master, if you start treating her as a human rather than a dog, she will be more compliant,” he advised, and I felt like chucking the mug in his head.

I grunted. He was right, and I hated it. Although I never saw her as a dog, but more as a thorn in my chest.

And still, I did not want her to be compliant. Somewhere between the Girls’ Fair and yesterday morning, I wanted her to fight me, to challenge me. Because each time she did that, I wanted to get to know myself more.

Since she arrived in my cave, the air shifted. The need to protect her that day from the Elk was unknown to me. It tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. My mind tried to trick itself that I resented her just so she could finish the contract.

But my throbbing pulse knew better.

“Leave, boy,” I demanded, thoughts circling in my head.

He stood there, waiting for something from me.

“What else do you need?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“It might be helpful to say please from time to time. Let’s exercise!” His eyes widened; their shine lost in death.

“Please, leave me be!” I shouted, showing him the hallway.

“It is a good start, master! You might want to work on the tone, though. You know the old saying, you can catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than a gallon of vinegar.” He smiled, a corner of his mouth trembling.

The ghost might have sensed my foul mood, because he dashed through the wall of rocks.

I would sleep on that eventful day, before choosing which path to take with the woman.

“In two minutes, come to the library, human!” I demanded, my voice hard.

She was helping the ghost wash their dishes in two large basins. The woman looked at me, her nostrils flaring and continued to do her task.

“Please,” I added, tilting my head.

The human watched my servant, who nodded. She sighed and strutted past me.

“Good morning, master!” greeted the ghost, winking at me.

I groaned and went after her.

The walk to the library seemed to be longer than usual. It was surely the heat from the cave, and that my head was stuck in my skull and not the woman who swayed her hips before me.

Upon reaching my bookshelves, she grazed her fingers on one of them. She peered at one of my oldest tomes. The urge to tell her to take her wet fingers off my books nagged at me, but I kept quiet.

“That tome is from Medieval Times. Something about monks and their deities.”

I materialised a chair and sat on it. She looked at me, then at my chair. I sighed, bringing one for her too, with additional pillows.

The woman took a seat, crossing her legs as she held the book with great care. “Deities as in God?” she asked, her fingers skimming the pages.

“Sure,” I said, watching her naked feet bouncing in the air. “Aren’t you cold?”

She looked at me, her eyebrows almost touching her dark hairline. “No, you brought plenty of wood to keep me warm.”

I nodded, satisfied that her needs were met. I required her to be healthy for her baptism.

“Not like home,” she added, her tone turning gloomy.

“What do you mean? You had wood for fire,” I retorted. I remembered one scene the Mirror showed me in the past of her and her father carrying arms full of wood inside their house.

“True, although in the summer it is not needed. Our house is built with a structure of reed bundles and then a layer of dirt mixed with reed. This way, the houses are cool in the summer, and the warmth is kept in the winter.”

“Curious,” I mused, touching the chin of my skull with my left hoof.

“Yes, we did not cook in the summer in the house. My father built for my mum a summer kitchen, a small room outside, next to the stables.”

“I had seen it,” I replied, eyeing her hands.

She kept her words to herself.

I searched with my mind for another tome which would be helpful for her, at least to understand the process of baptism. This book was given to me by one of the Order’s members a long time ago.

Thinking about my own baptism, there was no way I would be there to witness hers.

The ancient book flew from one of the bookshelves, floating in front of her.

“This book is about the ceremony. You should find useful information in it.”

She took it in her hands, leaving the other one on the floor. As I did not like messes, I placed the discarded one back with the help of my mind.

The girl flipped through the pages, a small frown between her midnight eyebrows. “I do not understand this language.”

“It is Latin. Your language comes from Latin,” I snapped, my arms thrown in the air.

“Please, speak nicely to me, or I am leaving!”

I swallowed. “I apologise.”

A small smile crept on her lips as she still flipped through the book. I was torn between letting her escape and taking her smile off her lips with mine. Clearing my throat, I watched my old tomes.

She kept her calm, but her cheeks became rosy. “Yes, our language comes from Latin, but it also has roots in the Dacian language, which I do not know either. And it also gained some Slavic influence,” she pondered, her eyes on mine.

I scoffed, falling to my knees, taking the book from her hands with my mind. I was trying to find the exact passage that was of interest to her. It should have been around the middle of the book.

“I thought the Goat Man did not kneel in front of anyone.”

My mind was immersed in the turn of the pages, the ancient smell reaching my nose, and I did not register her words. I raised my eyes to her.

Luckily, my hood kept everything hidden.

Her chest and neck became crimson, a vein pulsing through her skin. Her chin trembled, and her lips were parted, minty breath replacing the scent of the books.

If I did not know any better, I would have liked to touch those lips.

“Chapter fifty.” I cleared my throat, images of blood and gore replacing the one of her lips.

She shook her head, the colour of her neck travelling to her face. “What?” she breathed, her fingers grabbing the book tightly.

“In chapter fifty, you will find the procedure for the baptism.”

Quickly, she flicked the pages until the mentioned chapter, her fingers gripping the book too tightly.

I took my former place on the chair, disregarding any abnormal thoughts of a human between my arms. I translated to her every word, as I knew them from memory.

I read the tomes multiple times in all these years I’ve been the Goat Man.

“But this is outrageous!” she exclaimed, her nose between the pages. She stood up and started to pace back and forth.

I shrugged, already used to the ritual.

“You translated that all of you must be there. Who are all of you?”

“Yes, all of them would be there. We are an Order. We rip souls all around the world. Each of us has this type of mirror, which you already saw in my chamber.” She nodded, watching me carefully. My legs shook, not used to someone having this much scrutiny over my words. “That is the Souls’ Mirror. In it, we see which soul we must collect.”

“You mentioned that that’s how you saw my father before…”

Coming back to reason, I interrupted her. “Yes. And you, your sister and your mother. All of you had pure souls, but only you in the end dared to come up to me.”

Without her, I wouldn’t have had a purpose to pursue.

The woman uncrossed her legs, drawing my attention, her porcelain skin glistening in the flames of the candles.

“You can be quite pleasant,” she murmured, watching me from under her eyelashes – long, lush, dark eyelashes.

I cleaned an invisible lint from my cloak, feeling my neck and cheeks getting warmer. “The next thing you have to know is that it will be painful.”

“How painful?”

“Very,” I stated flatly. “Depending on your choice, there will be fur breaking through your skin. In the end, it will result in pain.” I scrunched my nose, bits from my baptism coming to mind.

I locked them back in their cage and focused on the woman in front of me.

“How did you become the Goat Man?” she inquired again, her head leaning towards me.

I could have told her the story if I had remembered it. I only knew of the first souls I took or the first time I met my master. And, how my family died.

But the moment I chose to be the Goat Man eluded me.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, fixing a spot behind her with my eyes.

“Liar. It is fine if you do not want to share it with me.”

I let it at that.

She kept looking at the book, murmuring to herself that God would be with her through her pain.

Each fur thread would break one’s skin as the skull was placed on the head, blood dripping in the pool, completing the ceremony.

When she left, I didn’t notice.

My mind was still trying to conjure the moment I said yes to being the Goat Man. A lot of things were lost to me, and I always blamed the centuries I carried on my back.

But someday, I would remember it, and I would tell her my whole story.

That evening, I awoke from my slumber with sweat on my body. I didn’t remember having nightmares; it must be from the heat of the stove. I threw all the blankets aside and got up. A loud thump hit the walls of the cave. Wincing, I grabbed my cloak and left my chamber. No one besides me was left in the cave.

Walking out, the fresh air hit me with a gush. I placed the hood over my head, concealing my true nature.

Around the cave, the ghost and the woman were loading up a wheelbarrow. I had no idea we had one of those. The ghost tried to make the logs of wood float from the place where they had been cut. I tsked, reminding myself that I need him, despite him being a nuisance.

“What are you doing?” My voice thundered through the forest, splitting and glueing back the trees.

Both stopped and turned to me. The ghost’s eyes started to rotate in his head. But the woman was astonishing.

Her skin was red from the effort; her hair was tied into a bun at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were fixed again on my feet. Each time she saw a glimpse of my human form, she was left speechless. Just as in that moment.

“Stop gawking,” I ordered, feeling my skin getting warmer. “Please,” I gritted.

The woman blinked multiple times and then turned to the ghost. Her chest heaved as if in pain. The effort must have exhausted her.

Sighing, I raised my hand and placed each remaining log neatly on the wheelbarrow and sent it into the cave. Her eyes tracked the movement with her mouth open.

“Couldn’t you do that from the beginning?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course.”

The woman stomped to me with her eyes burning. The top of her head reached my chin, so she left me to stare at it. Once she realised that she was shorter than me, her eyes plunged up as though they were two icy spears.

“So, you left us to work ourselves until our hands fell off?”

“The ghost’s hands wouldn’t have fallen off,” I mumbled, because under her scrutiny, I couldn’t think straight. It was as if I were bewitched.

“Andrei works more than any of us. He cannot sleep, he cannot eat, and he cannot catch a break! In addition, you treat him worse than dirt?”

I couldn’t look her in the eyes. She would see the true me. Instead, I kept my gaze forward at the splinters left behind from their work. Swallowing, I felt her eyes on my neck. It burned.

“The truth leaves you speechless?” she asked, her voice rising higher.

She waited a few beats, and then she retreated into the cave, leaving me and the ghost to stare after her.

I hated when humans and ghosts were right.

“Master…”

“She has her reason,” I said, halting the movements of the ghost. “Her words speak the truth in many ways.”

Frowning, I took my horse and left the cave’s area. The night would be my companion after the lash of the woman’s words.

Ana

Baptism day

The day had finally come.

The day when I would change from a peasant, human woman, to an ethereal being. The day I would relinquish fragility for strength.

I watched the entrance of the cave as the Goat Man’s horse sniffed at my wet hair. Its inky mane and its hooves were decorated with red tassels, the hair freshly brushed.

After my daily bath, Andrei presented me with two linen dresses. One of them had black embroidery on the sleeves, and on the edges of the dress a black and red girdle. The other one had the same pattern, but in gold.

I chose the gold one. My opinci were already worn out from all the walking I did in the last few days around the cave, but they were replaced with new ones in the blink of an eye.

I had not seen the Goat Man since our last agreement. He appeared in all my dreams. He left his room unattended, so that I could watch my family in his Mirror.

Seeing them brought me pain, and I hoped that after I completed my part of the contract, I would see them once more.

At least to say a proper goodbye.

I had doubts after speaking to him, as I did the other day. My cheeks hurt each time I tried to apologise, but my love and belief in God stopped me. He was the one who pushed my head to stand straighter.

Yet there was in me something small that kept creeping into my head. How smooth the Goat Man’s skin looked in the evening starlight, how his power was absorbing my every thought. As the story said, he dominated everything in his path.

And I had to stay strong not to fall into his trap.

My heart was hopeful that he would come with me to the old church.

Every passing day, I dared to check his room, only to find that he did not return from wherever he went. The moment he placed himself on his knees in front of me, he opened a different gate to my imagination.

One I did not know I had. One that could wreck my faith.

The feeling of his voice in my head, bringing many unholy thoughts to the surface, was against my better judgement. No woman, no matter how many sinful thoughts were stirred in her by a single touch, should think about a man who belittles her, who shames her for what she is.

And still, the Goat Man had moments when he was gentler. For some time, I started to think about him as a person. Not as a brute.

My knees fell to the ground; tears slipped down my cheeks. “Forgive me, God, for thinking about him as a man. It’s too dark in here, and I cannot see anything beyond it. Give me a sign that this will end soon. Give me a sign that my feelings will stay as they are.”

With this small prayer, I shoved my feelings and regained my clarity of mind.

“You are going to be late, Ana! You better hurry, time does not wait,” Andrei urged, floating to the Goat Man’s horse.

I sighed and thanked him, wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Don’t cry, it is not your wedding,” he whispered, his voice barely a sound.

I nodded. “You’re right. It is my funeral.”

And with that, I climbed on the horse, keeping my head high and hands on the reins. Even though the piece of leather trembled between my fingers, my heart was steady.

Galloping towards my signed fate.

In the forest, there was no wind to rustle the firs’ branches, no song of the birds could be heard, and no small creatures running around in the grass.

The sun was pleasant that day. It made room for the clouds in the sky, allowing them to cover it. From time to time, it allowed me to breathe in shadows.

That was what awaited me. Shadows, darkness, evil. Things I was unfamiliar with.

The horse’s head moved with each step it took. I placed my hand on its mane, touching it lightly. The strands were thicker than my hair, but as they were maintained by Andrei, they felt soft as petals.

The tassels attached to the stallion’s mane reminded me of the holiday called Horses Easter, where the villagers would gather in the centre of the hamlet, in front of the church and show off their horses. Each horse had intricate decorations, from shawls with embroidered flowers to tassels.

“Thank you for helping me,” I whispered in its mane.

It neighed, the sound bouncing off the branches.

As the horse strutted, the firs and pines watching over us, my skin got clammy. Thoughts of my family and the last time I saw them played through my mind.

Were they well? Did Angelica marry? Would she have a nice life? What about mum?

The shadows fell across the dirt pathway, giving the woods the same sensation as I had crawling on my skin.

Dread.

The sound of drums covered the horse’s neigh, drawing my attention to the top of the hill, where the old church was.

The Goat Man’s horse climbed the hill, its hooves ripping the grass. I felt its discomfort, and I chose to climb down.

“Thank you!” I said and placed my lips softly on its head. It showed the sharp fangs in response and retreated into the shadow of a tree. Waiting.

I swallowed and turned to a mass of horns and antlers watching me closely.

From deer to impala, from ram to their master, Elk, every one of them watched me. Their eyes were hidden behind hollow skulls, their scrutiny turning my stomach upside down.

I was alone in a sea of the unknown.

Each and every one of them wore black cloaks, their skulls shining in the sun. They moved in unison, raising their hooves, as their master walked towards me. All the members in the Order had their hooves behind their backs.

“Human Ana Lazarov, you have been selected by our ally, the Goat Man, to take its place as a Soul Ripper.” His gruff voice cracked into the air, making the grass move left and right, and the trees tremble. The drums continued with a faster rhythm as I stepped further.

The melodic notes of a panpipe joined. The mix between the instruments, harsh against soft, rang through the meadow. I searched for the sound, and there was a young girl, such as me, with tears in her eyes. Her lips blew air over the pipes, without even sparing me a glance.

I felt my face burning under the Order’s scrutiny. Whispers surrounded us, their ramble filling my ears.

“She’s a woman!”

“She is human!”

“She won’t make it.”

“Goat was a fool!”

“She should have died!”

And many more. Thus, I held my head straight and descended to the cave I had visited a month ago.

The stairs were as unfriendly as the previous time. But for the occasion of my baptism, the stone was decorated with flower petals of every colour possible.

On the last stair, the petals were a darker shade of purple, an ominous sign not lost on me.

It was my wake.

The Elk brought me two skulls, a stag and a boar. “Choose!” it ordered, its voice travelling over the walls of the cave.

I took the stag’s skull and descended into the Souls’ Pool, freezing water. I ignored the master when he demanded that I undress.

Feeling watched from head to toes, I took a deep breath to mask the shiver that passed through my body. My skin prickled as I placed the skull on my head, fitting it.

The sounds around me dimmed as the bones covered my ears. Through the skull’s eyes, I could only see some of the members lifting their arms in the air, the movement flickering the flames.

I stood still, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Each member of the Order cut their skin deep enough to draw blood. The liquid dripped in the pool, swirls of it surrounding my body.

Gradually, heat engulfed my skin, replacing the coldness of the water. All at once, flames and ice filled my blood, my chest breaking in two. My pulse slowed, the veins tightening in my head. My knees buckled, the water slowly covering my whole body.

I bit my tongue to stop myself from screaming.

Everything hurt.

As the Goat Man told me, specks of fur replaced my smooth skin, hooves replaced palms and feet. My senses were amplified, feeling every scent, hearing every sound. I tried to talk, to scream, but there was a lump in my neck.

All the sounds, including the orchestra from outside, were mixing in my head, and I couldn’t discern anything. The only thing that I could focus on was the fragrance of old books and wax with earthy tones.

My skin felt thicker, immune to the icy water. For the amount of time I stood in it, everything heightened.

I felt endless.

I opened my eyes to more vibrant colours, the light from the candles almost blinding me. I closed them again, the air suffocating me.

A hoof touched my antlers and commanded me to get out of the water. Without any warning, my legs started walking. The dress was heavy on my body from the water. My hair was drenched, its heaviness making it difficult to step.

I didn’t dare gaze upon my hooves, not when their clacking was deafening.

My arms went immediately to my intimate parts. As I did that, laughter filled the space. I felt the Order’s cruelty in my bones, their raspy laughs making me harbour hatred.

My skin, or fur, burned with shame. It prickled on each nerve and muscle. I was not the simple peasant anymore.

I was The Stag Woman.

At once, everything went silent.

I didn’t have the courage to open my eyes. If I did, my vision would have been a blur from the tears, and I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“Ana Lazarov, The Stag Woman, welcome to our humble Order!” The Elk’s voice filled my ears, dispelling every thought. “Embrace your form as we did ours, for centuries. You can open your eyes now, woman.”

My eyes peered to see a delicate mirror, floating in front of me, flowers ingrained on its frame. Its size was the same as my mum’s mirror, which stayed on her nightstand. Fit for a gentle woman, as she would say.

“Now that you have your mirror, you will finally cross the threshold to our side, your purity and god long forgotten,” the Elk mocked.

I kept my mouth shut. My God would never be forgotten, not when He lived inside my mind with each passing second. Bowing my head at the Elk’s words, I focused on the familiar scent of old tomes.

Composing myself, I checked my reflection in my Mirror. It was majestic. I was not a fragile thing anymore.

Ivory bones stood in front of me, the antlers higher than any of the stags I’ve seen before. My fingers touched the rough surface; the elongated ridge was a haunting picture. Hands flew to the top, which resembled the pines’ branches outside the cave.

Yet even so, my mind and soul would never change.

“Now, we should choose for you a mentor. Since yours abandoned you,” the Elk jeered, my cheeks warm at the thought that it was right, “we should choose you another one!” Its upper hooves went in the air, making the ground rattle.

“I did not abandon her! Therefore, master, I will show her our ways.”

His hooves clanked, creating an echo. Every skull in the room watched his steps, parting the crowd in two. All their hollow eyes followed his body moving, his low voice making me tremble.

The Goat Man placed a cloak on my shoulders, a dark one with gold embroidery to match my dress. The fabric was soft on my skin, warming me instantly.

“Thank you,” I whispered, only for him to hear.

He ignored me completely, a challenging look passing between him and his master. “Are we through here?” He held his skull higher, his chest puffing.

The Elk nodded, pushing the mirror into one of my cloak’s pockets. “We’ll see how well she handles tomorrow.”

And with those words, every member of the Order, besides the Goat Man, faded away as in a dream.

“You came,” I whispered, sudden shivers rocking my body.

He removed my skull mask while keeping his own.

With his mind, he grabbed a piece of cloth and placed it over my eyes.

“I see you’re still hiding,” I whispered, touching the soft fabric. My ears perked at the sound of both skulls clattering on the stone floor.

He grabbed my elevated body in his furless arms by my legs and underarms, cocooning me at his chest. I closed my eyes, cradling my head in the nape of his neck. He was warm, or I was too cold, but somehow it felt as if we were in equilibrium.

Two pans of a balance, bound by fate.

“One day, dear Ana, I will think of myself as a good being. And then, you will see my true face.”

After he saved me from further embarrassment, I didn’t think of him as evil anymore. But something in between.

His arms, from time to time, pulsed, waking me from my dizziness. The words he spoke after were unclear, my mind conjuring the time when I felt the warmest.

In a past winter, my sister making the fire, blazing flames touching the wood logs. My mum’s plum jam on a fresh piece of bread. Snow surrounded our yard, and the livestock crowding in the coop.

I did not feel when the Goat Man ascended the stairs, nor when he climbed his horse. My brain registered his last words, which raised goosebumps on my skin.

“Sleep, agonising woman. Sleep, because tomorrow our fate awaits.”

The Goat Man

The first soul

I stood in my room all night, watching her chest rise and fall. From time to time, my ear listened to her breathing.

She looked just as the Souls’ Mirror showed me. Her hair sparkled like the stars, her eyes of pure white, waiting to be filled with the blue of the souls.

At one point, in her sleep, she started talking, pleading for help.

I knew she would have a hard time, and despite all my thoughts, she handled it better than I had imagined. Arriving later, my eyes followed every step of hers, admiring her strength.

Her eyes had a swarm of feelings, fighting to get out. Anger, awe, fear, surprise. Her defiance towards the Elk made me feel proud again. Oh, how I wanted to follow her steps. To speak up in front of him, to hold my stance.

I couldn’t believe what my mind could rattle, the envy I felt for her and the worry that troubled me.

In the moment the stag skull was placed on her head, I witnessed a wonder. Her form was more majestic than the stag itself.

The ghost visited me a couple of times during the night, unable to sit still. He placed her Souls’ Mirror on my table, its size demeaning for her.

The reason why I couldn’t participate in her baptism, besides daydreaming about my future life, was that I acquired a house.

A lair for me to live as a human.

But everything paled once I saw her almost naked body and her trying to cover it up.

I had the cloak prepared for her once she returned, so I summoned it with just a thought. The shame she felt overwhelmed me, and the need to whisk her from there and keep her safe drowned me.

Their laughter infuriated me to the point that I wanted to torture each and every one of them. It enraged me to see their smug skulls turned upwards as if she were less than them.

She was so much more.

And still…

I had a plan to follow.

A loud gasp tore me from my thoughts.

“You are awake,” I murmured, my eyes tracking her hands.

She stood up from the bed, a little lost, looking left to right.

Hiding from her, I placed a dark cloak over my body.

“We are in my chamber. You slept all night here. Your skull is in your room alongside the complimentary scythe.” I rendered the facts, hoping she would not panic.

Her long hair brushed the carpet, her toes dipping in it. She fixed her white eyes on me, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Thank you, Goat Man. For taking me out of there.”

I could only nod, the words stuck in my throat.

“I assume today is the day I get to take my first soul,” she mouthed, wrapping her arms around her, a slight tremor passing through her body.

Her eyes were locked on her feet, her muscles rigid. A beat went through my veins, a hint of shame snaking around my bones.

I stood up, towering over her, dread filling her beautiful face. “Yes,” I breathed, my nose scrunching up behind the hood.

“Then…I,” she babbled, focusing her eyes on my Mirror. “I have to look into it, and I will know, right?”

“Yes,” I repeated. With my mind, I conjured her Souls’ Mirror, placing it in her quivering hands.

One tap of her finger and the glass brightened. I stepped behind her and watched how an image of a man, his skin a warm beige, appeared. He was stepping into a river, studying two young women bathing, doing obscene gestures, making the women run for their lives.

“Is this the present?” she asked, her lower lip wobbling.

How I longed to soothe that trembling lip.

“Yes,” I said again. Did I know any other word anymore?

No, I didn’t. Because in that moment, seeing her scared broke a small piece of me. If she had asked to cut off my arm, I would have.

Her fragile state was my doing.

Everything I felt then was odd and unfamiliar to me. And I didn’t know what to do with that. My eyes widened at the revelation, surprised by what I was capable of thinking.

She lowered her head towards the mirror, ignoring my shallow breaths. “Where is this?”

I cleared my throat, trying to focus on the mission ahead.

Make her take someone’s soul.

“In Țara Oașului. And that man is a teacher,” I answered, placing my palm over my chest. I suddenly got an itch that wouldn’t get away.

“A teacher?” she gasped, her eyes widening.

“Mh-mm. He does this and worse,” I said, tapping her Mirror once.

Image after image of the man taking young girls and boys to his house played on the glass. It showed us the moments, the evilest thing the teacher could do to a human. He threatened the youngsters that their parents would lose their assets if a word came out about what was happening.

“But he is supposed to be teaching children about life, not taint it!” Her voice trembled with anger, while she put the mirror carefully on the table, so as not to break it. The woman swirled around with too much force that she almost fell, if it weren’t for my arms.

Her breath caught in her throat; her eyes wandered over my hidden face. White eyes lingered on my neck, pulling a smirk from me.

I lifted her, guiding her to bed. “I will send the ghost to bring your meal. You will need strength, human.”

She squinted her eyes at me, a sly smile on her lips. “Ana would do.” Her voice was soft, but an impish look crossed her eyes. “We are somewhat equals now, aren’t we?”

“Ana.” Her name made my tongue touch my teeth, scraping it, making me feel things which I had forgotten. Things which should not be there without a heart.

Drizzle covered our coats and skulls, while mourning clouds wrapped around the sky. The air cleared over the fields, the wet haystacks were prepared to be collected by the peasants for feeding the livestock in the next winter.

The houses were sprayed over the hills, cows mooing and horses neighing here and there.

“I should do it alone, right?”

Her voice was a whisper in the air, haunting, but ethereal at the same time.

“That is how it is usually done,” I said, nodding. The clouds were getting darker by the second, so we had to make haste. “I do not need to teach you how to use a scythe. I expect you already know how.”

Ana dipped her chin once. She walked further; her feet strongly planted in the dirt. She didn’t want to use her powers as a Soul Ripper. She wanted to keep as humanly as possible.

Admiring her stubbornness, I followed her on foot.

We arrived at a house, similar to Ana’s, and I admired the elaborate paintings on the front of the building.

Sheep and shepherd dogs were milling around the house; hay was spread over the burnt grass. The wool of the herd was so damaged that nothing but a cut would salvage it.

The house was smaller; the light-yellow painted frames were the only splash of colour. Stray cats were stepping carefully on the tiled roof; their eyes fixed on the two skulls below them. Birds flew over our heads, their trill escorting us.

“Are you sure this man is evil?” she asked, stretching her hooves.

As the dogs took notice of us, they rushed to our feet. I stopped them with a hand, commanding them to go back to their herd.

“The Mirror showed you as such,” I replied, watching the sheep go astray from the house. “The Mirror, unless instructed, doesn’t lie.”

She fumbled with her skull. “I hate this thing.”

“Take it off, then,” I shrugged. “The scythe will scare him anyway.”

“How do I call it again?” She took the skull off, her fur receding, leaving behind a breathtaking woman, covered by a white mantle.

I ordered it to have it in contrast with her hair. When she descended from the cave earlier, I thought my lungs forgot how to work.

“Think about it and it will come.”

Before her baptism, I gave her my weapon just to see how she would manoeuvre it. Needless to say, she was skilled at the swooshing move. She gained experience with it by working in the fields, under her father’s scrutinising gaze. Just thinking about that man made me curl my upper lip.

Ana’s eyebrows joined, and in the next moment, the blade materialised in her palm.

Her steps did not falter, her eyes steady on the door. She hesitated on the doorstep, moving the scythe from hand to hand.

She pondered her next move, the scythe shaking in her hands. Her long dark hair moved on its own accord, touching the mud lightly from the teacher’s yard.

Out of the blue, a piercing shout came from the house, the door bursting open from Ana’s power. The uncertainty of whether I should follow nagged at me. I took a tentative step when a schoolgirl came out running and screaming at the top of her lungs that she was being raped, her eyes in a haze.

“The angel appeared!” she yelled when her gaze met Ana’s.

When the schoolgirl saw me, she fainted, her body falling limp to the ground. Not feeling offended, I took off my skull and sent it back to my lair. I placed my cloak over my head, crouching down to the limp girl.

The sound of blood gurgling from inside the house hit my ears.

The schoolgirl was still alive, so I sent her home with a flick of my hand after checking her pulse.

Ana got out, her white cloak, spilt with blood, reassembling the Angel of Death. Her pale face was painted with crimson liquid, mirroring tears.

I bowed my head as I felt her power, admiration spreading over my face.

In her wake came the man’s limbs. His head was rolling down the stairs, right where the sheep stood.

As soon as Ana was out of the house, vomit came through her mouth, the contents of her stomach decorating the teacher’s porch.

“He was raping her inside. I don’t…I don’t kn-,” she sobbed, crashing into my arms after she wiped her mouth.

My body came closer, protecting her from her own emotions.

I feared she was becoming what I once was, without even realising, due to the contract.

Hope that she would ignore the dark side of her powers blossomed in my body. Else, how could I explain that a soul like hers was not meant for dark activities, such as killing?

I soothed her as best as I could, taking us away.

Instead of going to my lair, I transported us to another place that was of importance to me.

There were a few of those. One, I stashed away deep down in my mind, and the second one was right before our eyes.

The gorge that split Romania and Serbia, where the Danube passed, was the place where I could breathe. The narrow passage between the tall rocks gave me the impression that I lived between two worlds. And that was right. I was, with my wish to be a human again and the one to stay there and protect the woman behind me.

Odd feelings tried me those days. I thought them long gone and forgotten.

I took off my hood, letting the breeze rustle my hair. My ears perked at the gasp Ana took, and I raised my eyebrows.

“If the nape of my neck makes you have this reaction, then how will you act when you see my face?”

For a brief moment, I wanted to make her forget about the blood that coated her garments and the fact that she killed a man. Instead of facing her, I watched as the river flowed.

Its murky water formed short waves from the wind. The contrast between the darkness in it and the vibrant green of the trees that stood atop the rocks was the same battle as in me. One side wanted to thrash everything in its path to conquer the world. And one wanted to just breathe.

“Then why don’t you?” she asked, above the wind. “Why are you hiding from me?”

I swallowed, trying to find a plausible reason. And the only one that came to mind was that I was scared. For her to see me. All of me. I didn’t want her to think that the man who stood behind the goat skull was vulnerable.

I didn’t want her to read my emotions and feelings on my face. Not when she had more courage than I did. I had no idea how to express the admiration I had for her, still keeping her faith, when there was nothing as such in me.

Because even though she had no heart, she acted as if it were still pumping blood.

“Goat Man?” she whispered, making me bristle.

“I can’t,” I replied, quietly. “You’ll judge me.”

She puffed. “You should know by now, Goat, that my belief does not let me do that. I saw your worst side. I think at least I deserve to see your good one.”

“How do you know it is my good side?” I asked, my shoulders raising.

“It cannot be more frightening than the skull, right?” I heard the smile in her voice, and I turned, my pulse quickening.

Her eyes stayed on my feet, and when she noticed that my position had changed, her gaze started to ascend. She stopped at my hands, a blush creeping on her neck. Ana swallowed.

“Are you scared to look me in the eyes now?” A smirk appeared on my lips, but it disappeared once her icy gaze bored into mine.

“You are not the monster I feared,” she breathed, and if I had a heart, I would have felt it against my chest. “You don’t look like a devil.”

Her words made me laugh so loud that the ground rattled under our feet. She didn’t see the reason for my improved mood, as her eyes continued to roam over my face.

She tilted her head, showing a drop of blood staining her pristine skin. Her eyes took in all of my face, and the fear of being vulnerable came back. I never felt so small under someone’s gaze. Not even under my master’s.

“Thank you,” she murmured. When my brows joined, she clarified. “For showing me yourself and for taking me out of there.”

I nodded. The strangling sensation of being open to her was too much for me. “Let’s go. We need to find the second soul. The faster we finish this, the better.” I placed my hood on my head again, hiding.

There was no point in lingering here if she felt better.

But the image of her lashes dripping over her cheek and her shoulders deflating left me scarred.

Ana

I didn’t get out of my room, as I couldn’t even watch myself in the mirror. I couldn’t even eat properly, but something inside me, most likely the contract I signed, pushed me to feed myself.

Because at the end of the day, I killed a man. It was not my place to do it. I feared that something must have possessed me in that moment, because there was no way the love for God pushed me to decapitate that man.

The moment I heard the girl’s scream made me see red and act like an animal; lowering the scythe was my first instinct. Seeing his head rolling and his blood splattering all over me gave me a satisfaction I could not understand.

Maybe the guilt and anguish were not because I killed the man.

Maybe they bloomed because I enjoyed it.

Maybe I needed to confess my sins. But where would I do that when in the world I entered, there was no God?

I had no icon to pray to, only my imagination and my heart.

And the latter was not even there.

I did not have these feelings before. I could hide in a corner, weep, and then stand up and continue my day-to-day routine. Life in the countryside did not stop, so I could cry my sorrows.

Since the day I committed my first sin, I watched my family through the Souls’ Mirror.

They were happier, which dragged me deeper into my misery. They were smiling, which happened rarely when I was home and yet, my father was nowhere in sight.

And seeing the true face of the Goat Man did not bring me comfort at all. He was too stunning to look at. His nose was straight, his jaw was strong, and his lips were calling me. His dark locks reminded me of the midnight sky; his strange eyes mirrored the stars.

He was the devil himself, and I was subjected to him. I should have let him hide behind that cloak of his. I should have stayed with my God and nothing else.

A knock on the rock startled me. The Goat Man’s head peeked over the rocks. “You haven’t eaten today, Ana.”

Over the course of the past weeks, following my first ripped soul, he switched his behaviour towards me and the ghost.

He was calmer, he did not belittle me anymore, and he even apologised to Andrei once. But he had a motive.

To keep myself on the line for the nine souls left.

He strutted into the room with a tray filled to the brim with dough, sprinkled with sugar and filled with jam. The smell of the sweet powder invaded all my senses. The strawberry aroma woke my stomach.

I did not even have time to get used to these powers of mine.

The only thing I got to understand was that my emotions were higher than ever. Every unhappy moment became sorrowful; every happy memory was enhanced to being jubilant. And I couldn’t handle any of it.

“Goat Man?” I started, my nostrils flaring at the smell of the gogoși.

He raised his dark eyebrows at me, his blue swirls swimming in the abyss. The Goat Man placed the tray in front of me, shuffling his handcuffs. He was dressed as a noble gentleman, in a white cotton shirt, black breeches and boots. In a way, I was glad he loosened that cloak.

“Who were you before becoming the Goat Man?”

He passed his hand through his midnight hair, leaving it tousled. “To be honest, I don’t know,” he sighed.

“How come you do not know?” I took a gogoașă, the sugar, sticking to my fingers. The strawberry jam exploded in my mouth as I took a bite.

He sat on his bed, which I had occupied for the past weeks, the earthy smell of his skin hinting at the way he carried me out of the Souls’ Pool.

“I…,” he began, his mouth twisting.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you do not want to,” I assured him, one of my hands touching his. The contact between our skins was something new for me. My fingers twitched. My eyes widened as I had another thought that could bring me damnation.

“I don’t remember. I know that I used a scythe to mow the hay. I remember all my siblings lying in their own blood. I cannot recall anything before that. And also, I don’t know how the Elk appeared and asked me to become the Goat Man.”

All kinds of thoughts were mixing in my head. “You killed your own siblings?” My voice rattled the ground, making me push the tray aside. I squeezed his hand hard.

It was not the murder that surprised me. I expected that of him. What scared me was who fell under his wrath.

I watched him become smaller. Pain spread across his face as a single tear fell down his cheek. I felt his hand starting to shake in mine.

“What about your parents?” I asked, worrying that the man who cared for me in the past few days, slaughtered his whole family.

“I either did not have any, or I do not own any memory of them,” he said flatly, shrugging.

I shook my head. “No… that cannot be true.” The realisation that I was still holding his hand dawned on me, so I released him, the touch lingering on my skin.

“In my case, it is,” he sighed. He had resigned; he was not curious anymore about his past.

“Tell me about your siblings,” I demanded, rising from the bed.

“I have nothing to tell you as I do not understand it myself.” His eyes bored into mine, and I knew he was sincere.

“What?”

“I do not remember, woman! How many times should I say that my rotten brain and soul cannot recall how my siblings died at my hand?”

His voice became louder, rattling even my bones.

My words lashed out. “I knew you were a murderer and that you turned me into one. But to kill your own family is beyond any evil I have encountered. You deserve nothing good that may come your way, Goat Man!”

He stood straighter as if welcoming the venom in my words.

“Stay away from me, Goat! I cannot look into your eyes.”

“That’s the thing, Ana,” he spat the words out. “I cannot. Because I bound myself to you until you take all those souls.”

“And whose fault is that?” I retorted, feeling my pulse boiling in my veins.

“It is mine, inimă. Only mine.”

I whipped my head towards him, desperate to find some trace of redemption in his face. He called me heart, as if that word was light when I had none in my chest.

“And to think that I almost thought of you as a friend,” I whispered, my hands feeling numb.

“I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. BE. YOUR. FRIEND!” He bit every word, his steps bringing him at nail’s distance from me. I felt his warm breath on my face as I stood my ground.

I knew that if I turned, our lips would meet. And if that happened, I would forget what he was, what he did.

“I cannot wait for you to collect the souls and be rid of this eternity,” he whispered, making me shiver. With that, he left me alone. The taste of the food turned bitter in my mouth.

Closing my eyes, I slumped on the cold stone, praying.

I prayed to succeed in my quest. If he didn’t help, I would do it all by myself.

Asking God for strength of mind and soul, I cried.

“Master seeks you, Ana.”

I turned to see Andrei holding a small shovel next to him. He wanted to pick every tomato from the small garden he had, but the weather was not in his favour. Which was not something true, since pouring rain would pass right through him.

“Why?”

My fingers were red from dyeing an old cloth. I was tired of seeing black, grey and white in this lair. So, I took some of the beets and made my own dye.

“I don’t know, woman!” He threw his arms in the air, sending the shovel into the stone wall.

Sighing, I left my work and marched into the Goat Man’s chamber.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside. As always, whenever I would set my eyes on him, my throat would constrict, my skin would catch fire, and my pulse would jump. But, since our last discussion, I had to snub all that aside and remember what he did to his family.

“You wanted to see me?”

His eyes raised from a parchment paper, making my knees go weak.

“Yes, you need to learn how to travel.” The sound of his voice did strange things to my stomach, and I tried not to be aware of my reaction.

“I do travel. By feet.” Every word sounded strangled.

Goat rose from his chair, leaving the paper on the table. “And if the soul is waiting for you at the mountain’s peak, would you walk all the way there?” His dark eyebrows raised.

I bit my lip. “I don’t understand why you care about my souls.”

“Ah, but I do, Ana.”

My eyes travelled over his attire, so different from my embellished one. That day, my apron was green with gold flowers on its sides. My skirt and ie were white, but the green motifs on the sleeves gave them a splash of life.

Puffing my cheeks, I nodded. “Fine. Teach me how to travel.”

In two strides, he caught my waist, pulling me closer to his body. I couldn’t say a word as in the next second, we were outside the lair. My palms touched his chest, my fingers gripping his shirt.

Even if we were out of the cave already, he didn’t release me. I felt my cheeks getting warmer. Nobody held me this close. His scent, his pulse in my ears, the wind caressing our ankles. He was too much.

Pushing myself away, I noticed how his eyes were fixed on the place where my hands were. He shook his head once, then looked at me.

“Now, in order to travel,” he said, clearing his throat, “you need to think of your destination.” Goat took a step to the left and gestured towards the first tree in the forest. “Try to think about it and travel to it.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. My imagination ran wild. Behind my eyes, the bark of the tree appeared, its distinctive trunk rose taller. For one second, I stood in front of the brute, and in the next, my shoulder hit something hard. Wincing, I opened my eyes to see the maroon trunk. A smile broke over my lips.

The sensation was not unwelcome, and I enjoyed this perk of the new body I had. I wondered if I could use it to see my family. Perhaps this way I could travel with Angelica to see both the mountains and the sea. Oh, how joyful that would be!

Footsteps crunching the fallen leaves made me turn my head. The Goat Man’s eyebrows were knitted; his eyes fixed on the shoulder I had hit earlier. My gaze travelled to his fingers that twitched with each step he took.

Ignoring my trembling knees, I raised my head. “I can do this by myself, apparently. I don’t need your help.”

My voice was filled with venom, and as I sidestepped him, I regretted it.

Yet, I could never have warm feelings towards someone who slaughtered their entire family, regardless of the reason.

As I stepped inside the cave, I felt his eyes on my back.

Burning.

The second and third souls

The capital city. Bucharest.

It overwhelmed me. I was used to fresh air, with mud and grass everywhere.

The sounds of the cars and trams were clinging to my ears, my opinci drenched in rain.

People were everywhere, their umbrellas hiding their faces. There was no wonder it was named the Grey City.

The buildings on Calea Victoriei were almost touching the sky, the moon reflecting on their windows. Concrete everywhere, not a single patch of grass.

The avenue that split the neighbourhood in two was decorated with flags, the emblem of Romania imposing in the middle. An eagle, its head decorated by the Steel Crown, stood proudly holding a sword and a sceptre in its claws.

Next to the building I was staring at was a small brothel. Their owners were shown to me by the Mirror. A chubby man dressed in dark suits, smudges of lipstick on the collar of his white shirt and a woman with a sour face, slimmer than the wooden pole which sustained haystacks.

The Mirror showed me multiple scenes of how they took women and orphan children and sold them throughout our continent. As though they were a piece of meat to be enjoyed at the dinner table.

I walked the steps of the brothel where two women with no modesty were standing. The skull I wore silenced them, their eyes watching my hooves.

The thought of the contract made me want to finish my quest, even though my soul and mind kept saying no. Also, the quarrel I had with the Goat Man pushed me further.

We were both to blame. He, because he didn’t remember why he took down his family and had no interest in doing so. And me, because I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. What else was I to think? He, with his own mouth, said he ruined his family. Although there was the matter of memory loss. Which was certainly a lie. But my soul said the opposite.

The music coming from the lăutari hit my ears, making me walk to their rhythm. The violin, cymbal and accordion called me to a large salon. Tables and chairs were filled with men and women enjoying the pleasures of the night.

One of my next souls was throwing money on the floor, making the famished men and women fight for a piece of paper.

From the corner of my eye, I saw children at the end of the room. Many children.

I couldn’t kill while innocent beings watched me.

My feet stood frozen on the threshold, searching for ways to protect sinless eyes. If I had had a heart, it would have found a way to escape my ribcage.

Until then, no one had noticed me.

All the adults were enjoying themselves from the music and the alcohol, which had no end. The children gazed upon them, their faces pale and their young eyes widened.

I bit my lip to the point I drew blood. How will I take these two souls without scarring the children for life?

Tears gathered in my eyes, cursing the Goat Man and whatever power he had. I didn’t want to repeat his story, where he left the children alive only to pass his legend from mouth to mouth. My fingers gripped the skull, and I was about to take it off when I felt a gush of cold wind behind me.

“You’re stalling, Ana.”

Standing with my back to the Goat Man, I nibbled my lip harder and harder.

It felt as if the people around us did not even see us, as though we were invisible to the human eye.

“What are you doing here, Goat?” I asked, conjuring my scythe. At once, the black handle appeared between my fingers, its dark blade shining in the artificial light.

“I came to see how you handle this situation.”

His words drawled.

“I cannot handle it, as you can see.” Frustration coated my words. My fingers gripped the scythe’s handle until they turned white.

“I thought you could do it all by yourself.” His tone was flat, but the mockery was there.

“And you came to gloat?” I gritted my teeth as hard as I could.

Ignoring my question, the Goat Man supported his shoulder on the wooden threshold, watching me. His arms crossed over his chest, expecting. Waiting to see how I would solve this.

But then, he said something that surprised me.

“If you cannot do it now, you can search for another soul. Believe me, the Earth has its share of evil.”

My head turned to him. “You’re not forcing me?”

He shook his head. “No, you can choose anyone you want.”

I looked again at the frightened children who stood in one narrow corner of the room. Their eyes were fixed on the adults. “But there are children here who act as slaves. I don’t want to leave them,” I said, my chin dipping.

Biting my cheek, I took a deep breath.

I remembered his words before our quarrel. “The means of taking a soul are endless. Use your imagination to get what you want.” If he had been that righteous before murdering his family.

With my free hand in the air, I threw all the adults out of their chairs and from the wooden objects, I raised a wall between them and the children.

Without looking at the man with the burning gaze, I knocked once with my scythe on the dark tiles in the salon. Stopping the adults from enjoying the carnal pleasures, I kept the musicians still playing. I walked to the chubby man, his golden rings tight on his fingers and hit him once with the scythe.

The fiddle music continued to play, the vocalist and their band watching my every move. The violin broke its rhythm, my ears picking up a prayer.

The first soul’s fat head rolled on the marble floor, staining the money.

“Are you feeling well?” My eyes slanted to Goat, who had a slight frown on his forehead.

“Yes,” I answered, but not as loud as I wanted.

“I’ll take care of the children,” the Goat Man said, his eyes hovering over me. With a snap of his fingers, the youngsters disappeared from the room. When he turned, a satisfied smile spread over his lips. “I believe you have one more to take?”

His head tilted, keeping his smile on his lips.

“Yes, I do. And as you can see, I can handle it.” I passed by him, and he gripped my hand.

“You can and you will, I do not doubt that,” he whispered. As much as I wanted to lose myself in his appreciation, I couldn’t. Not when he killed his family. I pulled my hand away and stepped around his body. The goosebumps his touch created were unnerving.

The chaos resumed behind us, screams overshadowing the music. I turned to the Goat Man. “Would you also deal with those, please?” As he nodded, I ascended the stairs.

The stairs which led to the first floor of the building were on my right. But I didn’t get to step on them, and the first face I saw was the woman I was supposed to hunt. She held two children by the arms, not older than six.

The boys were naked, their skin purple on their arms and yellow on their stomachs. My blood grew hot in my veins, a rage I have never felt before flooding me. I crouched down and spoke through my teeth. “Stay!”

My order was for the woman. As soon as her body froze, the boys scurried away, leaving me to fulfil my contract.

My scythe split the woman in half.

Three souls collected.

Seven remaining.

“See, Goat Man? I can handle myself very well.”

After saying that, bile rose, its acid burning my throat.

“I see that,” the Goat Man said, holding me in his arms.

But that woke me up and expelled the nausea. Even though his hold comforted me.

I pushed myself slowly away from him. “I cannot touch a murderer.”

He stepped back, his eyes turning into slits. “What are you then? A holy person?” His chin wobbled, but he recomposed his stance. “Aren’t you one now, too?”

“I did it at your behest, but I never hurt anyone else while I was human. You did.”

“Oh, that was it? I was wondering where my sense of morality was. I am glad that it resides in you, Ana.” He held his eyes narrowed. “If you think yourself so pristine, then pray for my soul.”

He stepped towards me, his eyes boring into mine. He hesitated, wanting to say something else, but shook his head and marched outside.

I took a deep breath. Again, I could not meet my mentor on any grounds. I was too afraid to feel anything else, so I masked my turmoil caused by his murdering his own siblings. Which was an unforgivable thing to do. Since then, a small voice crept into my mind, saying that I should trust him. But the loud voice of my morality, as he put it, and my beliefs wouldn’t budge.

As I opened the main door to avoid the chaos we left behind, I felt two more swirls added to my eyes. It was as if worms were crawling inside, my vision becoming blurry.

On the busy street, there were the children that the Goat Man saved from my procession. They thanked me and ran freely, giggling and calling for the Stag Woman and the Goat Man.

Ana

My brain wouldn’t let me rest after taking two more souls.

For a week, I would extinguish the candles every time Andrei would light them. I preferred the unlit chamber to hide the dark thoughts that crossed my mind. I imagined how the countless years would replace my twenty-three, how I would saunter across Earth, with my scythe bloodied from taking evil souls.

Several times, I punctured my finger on the shiny glass of the Mirror, looking for my family.

Hoping that my sacrifice was not in vain, I closed my eyes, breathing the darkness.

I asked Andrei several times to get me any type of religious object. The first time he mocked me, the second time he laughed, and the third time he just threw me a look over his shoulder, as if I was mad.

Picturing the image of Saint Ana that I kept in my old room, I prayed each night. For my soul and even the souls I took.

One day, the longing for my family wouldn’t let me sleep. Thrashing the covers that pinched my skin, I stood up.

My steps took me over the icy stone floor, the coldness not bothering me anymore. I even asked Andrei to stop lighting the fire in the soba. It didn’t do much for me anymore.

There were still many questions on the tip of my lips, some left unanswered by God.

Will I keep my sanity? Or will it go down the Saturday’s River? Would His words still guide me while my scythe goes down?

Would God forgive me and allow me to join Him in Paradise? Or would He let me rot in Hell with the devil?

Thinking about it, I have not heard from the Goat Man for a while.

From the moment I returned, stained by the two people’s blood, we have not uttered a word to each other. The silence between us was slicing my skin. But there was no way God would allow me to cross the Gates of Heaven when I was still talking about the Goat Man.

Even though I was more affected by him than when I was human with a beating heart.

Odd sensation to not have a heart. And somehow, the feelings remained, crawling the walls of my own skull, trying to break loose.

My fingers drifted over the walls, the stone not hurting me anymore. It was either that I got used to the feeling or my skin was thicker than before. The candles burned low, wax weeping onto the stone.

I held my breath as I got out of the cave, my pulse quickening. My naked feet touched the smooth grass. Blinking, I adjusted to the pool of light from outside, eyes shifting to my family’s house.

Until then, I didn’t notice how clear it could be seen from the cave.

The stallion came to me, nuzzling my hair, as if it knew where I wanted to go. Its dark coat shone in the sunrays, its fangs ready to slash.

“Hello, boy,” I said, touching its coat. “This I must face alone. I promise, we will ride in the morning, but I need to see them.”

I gulped the humid air and took a step towards my family.

The green needle-covered ground was hard underneath my feet, a path forming in front of me. The neighing of the stallion sounded as a warning, but my ears did not want to register its cry.

My eyes darted left to right, the thought that I should not go further circling in my head.

Ignoring it, I advanced, the tall weeds tickling my fingertips.

And then I pushed off my legs towards my family, the sensation of my blood rushing through my veins exhilarating.

Not minding the song of the birds or the howls of the wolves, I reached the middle of the forest. I looked behind, but no one stood at the entrance of the cave. Hope raised in my heart that I could see my family once more. That I could feel the embrace of my mum and see the loving smile of Angelica. Maybe I could see her as a bride.

The pure veil, covering her cherub face, her doe eyes shining from the tears and the cream-pale dress hugging her lean figure.

My hand rested on a trunk, my breath calming as joyful birds flew to the clearing of the deep forest. Like them, I wanted to fly, but my arms and legs stayed put.

Again, I looked behind me. It felt as if I betrayed them.

But that couldn’t be right. I grew fond of Andrei and the stallion. It was easier with them. With them, my pulse didn’t threaten to break my veins. From them, my thoughts weren’t clouded.

Making up my mind, I stepped forward.

From my ears, blood streamed over my cheeks and down my jaw. I followed with my eyes the drip-drip of the thick, crimson liquid, as it created a puddle around my feet.

The excruciating pain hit afterwards.

Burning ache started from my insides, flaming my entrails.

My scream splintered the trees, cracking branches like bone, wood floating by my face. My eyes closed, instinct kicking in.

My hands felt numb, as if all the blood from my body had travelled there. My feet swished around, taking a single step. But my mind slowly shut. The last image I had was of my sister running on a green hill, followed by Gavril and one other man. A man with the scent of old books and wax.

“Ana.” The man was calling my name. “Please let me hear your harsh words again. Please.” His voice broke on the last word, as if I were his anchor in this life.

My eyes opened to blue swirls. The Goat Man stood over me, a look of concern passing through his eyes.

“What happened?” I muttered, my voice a raw whisper from the pain. My senses slowly came back as he carried me to his lair.

The last thing I remembered before closing my eyes again was the sunrays between the fir’s needles.

Later, I tried standing up; however, there were too many blankets made of wool on my body. They scratched my skin to the point of bleeding. With my mind, I hurled them away, trying to control the urge to put my fingers to the wounds.

His hand flew to my waist, holding me in place.

“Keep still. The pain is gone now,” he murmured in my ear, goosebumps spreading all over my sensitive spots.

His touch was a balm to my aching soul. The warmth from his hand spread through my ie, a sensation I began to like and, without shame, to accept.

The memory of the searing pain I felt outside the lair punched behind my eyes.

“What happened there?”

Everything was a blur. I could not recall the moment I hit the ground, nor when I was settled on my bed.

The Goat Man took his arm off me, then stepped away. He swallowed, a pang hitting my pulse. I felt his hesitation.

Without saying a word, I took my Mirror and watched his reflection. His lean muscles were clenched, his head shaking.

“Goat, what is it?” I asked, horrified.

At once, he turned, his eyes set on my feet. He took one deep breath and laid the truth before me.

“In the contract that I made you sign, I had written in small letters that you are not allowed to leave the perimeter of the lair…”

His words registered slowly.

“Look at me,” I growled, my own voice unknown to me.

Midnight lashes still covered his fair cheeks. Anger pushed through my body as shame crept over his skin.

“Look me in the eyes, Goat Man!” I demanded, my head held high. I imagined his neck constricting. And just like that, the Goat Man tried to breathe.

And he still didn’t face my wrath.

I felt in the air as his pulse tightened, a whimper breaking his lips. My mind released him from suffering. Realising what I had done, I took a step backwards.

This was not me.

“Please…” I begged, the state of him turning my fury into distress, the day I signed the contract, coming in waves to me.

So many things have happened since I put my name on that paper. It seemed like a lifetime.

“You made me sacrifice too much for your selfish reasons, Goat Man.” I ignored the hurt on his face, my eyes swelling from the tears I left unshed. “You hurt me more than my father did with his hands.”

The words I uttered pushed him back, his eyes hardening. His hands shook, his nostrils flaring.

“I am not like him,” he whispered, his words hitting the walls.

“You’re even worse.”

He took a step back, his shoulders sagging.

“At least he didn’t kill his own family.” I couldn’t stop myself from throwing those words. “You’ve stripped me of thought, of belief. Even of heart! And now I cannot see my family?”

My hands went slack. From the corner of my eye, I saw his head slumping, his chin touching his hemp shirt. He stood still, taking my attack.

The silence that followed my sullen words stretched to the point of hurting.

“Why, Goat Man? Why can I not see them?” My voice was just a whisper, touching his skin and making him shake.

He moved away from me, shifting the air and extinguishing the candles one by one, leaving us in complete darkness.

“So, you won’t stray away from your path. I did it to have you under my thumb and fulfil my wish of feeling something again. Because now, I cannot feel fully what I wish to.”

I swallowed my words because I had no energy to make him more miserable than he already was.

“I deserve everything you throw at me. Every word, every deadly gaze, every sigh,” he whispered. My hand stretched an inch forward. A soft fabric touched my skin, but this time, I didn’t cower.

I held my head straighter, pinning him with emptier eyes than his. “And what do you want to feel that is so important? That you would trick a girl into that wretched contract?” I whispered, the rage dimming. I felt his eyes roaming over my face, leaving flames in their wake.

He took a step back, letting the cold replace him. “Something changed between the moment you signed your name and today.”

“Yes, many things have changed. My conflicting feelings towards your world are one of them. Or my body missing the thump of a heart!”

“Spare me your words! You miss the thump of your heart? How about mine? Missing for centuries!” He came again into my space, sparring me with his words and eyes.

“You chose to be this! I didn’t!” My legs took me closer to him, my nose touching his, the darkness hiding my turmoil.

“Are you sure about that? Because I am not anymore…”

He wasn’t talking about me, that was for certain.

“What do you mean?” I whispered, my eyes searching his face.

And then I realised. He wanted to feel everything, from sorrow to joy, from love to hate, from anger to content.

“I must beg forgiveness,” he mumbled, the words barely coming out.

“And now, Goat Man… what stirs within you?” I questioned, placing a hand over his chest, the contact breaking me. For one moment, I wanted to forget this bridge before us. My faith and his nature. My soul and his sins.

Through the darkness, I felt his eyes on me. Taking a deep breath, he answered. “Shame.” He sighed. “Sadness.” The Goat Man swallowed. “Too much at once.”

I squeezed his shirt between my fingers.

Choosing a path was never easy. One could turn one's back on evil, touching the light. And one could ignore the warm rays of goodness and pass through shadows to join malice. I was right in the middle, looking each way. And every time I was next to this man, I felt my spirit leaving me.

“I want you to make a vow to me,” I said, the tone of my voice low.

His silence was answer enough for me.

“I want you to promise that you will never put me under your power again. Vow me this, and I will forgive you.”

The Goat Man took my hand and shook it once, gently.

“I vow all the above and more.”

Ana

The fourth soul

On the 7th of Răpciune, the Mirror showed me two women, drinking and robbing houses in a larger village, near the Danube.

Therefore, on the 8th of Răpciune, I set my skull aside and strutted out of the cave, alone.

Walking towards the horse to pet it, I remembered my last discussion with the Goat Man, before he left for the Iron Gates, to think.

“That’s not the way to do it, woman,” chastised Andrei. He watched me as I threaded the wool onto the loom.

I placed the cloth and checked the warps to make sure they would be tightly stretched, and began my work. “I’ve been doing this since I was a child.”

The ghost scoffed, looking around the room.

Seconds passed as I threaded carefully along the pattern Andrei brought to me. But silence for him was a nuisance.

“Have you talked with my master?”

My fingers stopped. “Why would I?”

“You said that you would forgive him,” he whispered, inspecting my work.

“Have you listened?”

His transparent brows hit his hairline. “A ghost can hear so much through thin walls,” he mused. He touched the warp, pouting his lips.

“We live in a cave. Its walls are very thick, as I recall.”

Andrei swallowed and took a step behind, leaving me to continue my work.

Last evening, he brought me all kinds of materials, including this loom. A gift, he said. Between the fabrics, I found an icon depicting Mother Mary. Her eyes were filled with love for all the people, her garments ragged, her hair tucked beneath in modesty.

On its back, it was written with the same handwriting that was behind the gruesome contract I signed: “Here is something for you to pray at. I do not want you to lose yourself in this world of mine, Ana.”

Even though he took a tentative step on the bridge to me, I couldn’t do it for him.

Despite all my aversions, I kept the icon under my pillow and prayed to it every night.

“Do you wish to speak to him?” Andrei repeated his question.

Sighing, I left the loom alone. “What is there to talk to him about?” My feet carried me to the terracotta stove, its warmth doing nothing for me. “He doesn’t share my beliefs. He despises everything that feels remotely alive. Goat Man only stays cooped up in his room, and if he leaves, he never speaks of what he sees out there.”

I gritted my teeth; he could get out, and I couldn’t. Only to take another soul.

“Just go, woman. You’ll see,” Andrei winked. “He took the first step for reconciliation. Why wouldn’t you follow?” He crossed his arms over his translucent chest.

“Fine, but if you hear any shouts, I am not baking you any cakes!” My forefinger jabbed the air between us.

My feet were unsure as I got out of my room and into the hallway. Turning left, my long hair touched my ankles. I stopped in front of his chamber, catching my breath. The walk to his threshold was exhausting.

I swallowed, trying to find subjects to talk about without raising any spirits between us.

“Do you dare to take a step or will you remain there as a statue?”

His voice touched my skin, railing my blood up.

“It is pointless with you,” I said, turning around.

“Well, inimă, I know you hate me, so, there’s that.”

His words made me pause. “I don’t hate you,” I whispered. My brows knitted. As much as I wanted to despise the man, I couldn’t. He was my opposite in every way. Even though he was irritating to the point of boiling blood, he also tried to make amends.

Never have I imagined that the Goat Man would send me a wooden, hand-painted icon.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. So, I stepped into his room, squinting my eyes at the sole candle alight in the chamber.

“Why are you in the darkness?” I asked, searching for him.

“I am not,” he answered from his Mirror. He tapped once, and images of him being baptised played on the glass.

Dozens of skulls were surrounding him, their number larger than at my procession. The Elk placed the goat skull on my mentor’s head. As soon as that happened, fur replaced the smooth skin.

“Right before this moment, the Elk asked me to be the Goat Man,” he started, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And before?” I asked, getting closer to the Souls’ Mirror.

“Before, one thing happened that I would rather not show to you now,” he stated and turned to me, his eyes burning into my cheek.

“Would you stop looking at me like that, please?”

“No.”

I turned my head towards him, and warmth spread through my body. My eyes met his, and there were so many swirls in his eyes that I could spend an entire night trying to count them.

“Why is that?”

His nostrils flared. “Because you’re like the moon. I could watch it rise and go to sleep each time and never get bored.”

I didn’t want to move. I couldn’t say a word, because this was the first time a man complimented me for my appearance. And to have the Goat Man comparing me to the moon made my pulse quicken.

Seeing that I cannot speak, he continued. “Everything pales in front of it. Nothing seems more enchanting than the moon. It reigns over the sky better than any king or queen in this world.”

His hand grazed mine, and I almost leaned into his touch. But not long ago, I was in church, promising God that I would stray from the devil. Then, the devil asked me to stray from God. I was torn again between two worlds. Even if I forgive the Goat Man for any wrongdoing, I couldn’t split myself between the two.

I closed my eyes. “Why do you say such things, when you know how I am? To torment me? To mock me?”

He stepped away from the Mirror, and I heard rustling next to his bed. “No, I’ve learnt my lesson not to mock you.” I heard his laughter bubbling inside his throat. A rare sound. A precious sound.

“Yes. A bit late.”

He appeared again before me, this time wearing his cloak. “I should have learnt my lesson when you tamed my horse.” A smirk appeared on his lips.

“I didn’t tame him. I befriended him.” I felt my lips stretching, sharing this moment with him. “Something you might try once in a while.”

“I am not searching for friends, Ana. I survived centuries without them.”

“But you were never truly alone, were you?” I asked, sidestepping him. “You either had your horse with you or servants.”

“Good observation. I needed them,” he said, his tone dry.

“Hm.” I turned to the threshold, feeling that if I spent much time near him, I would burst. But before leaving him, I looked at the Goat Man over my shoulder. “We are not meant to spend time alone, Goat. As much as you despise the company.”

“I don’t despise yours,” came his reply, too quickly for me to find anything else to say. So instead, I walked away.

Whenever we didn’t hold the knife to our throats, we could be the thing he didn’t want and the thing that hurt me. Friends.

My fourth soul was in a village next to the Danube. I watched the celebration of St Little Mary’s Day. This village was close to the Iron Gates, the place where I had seen the true face of the Goat Man. The day my world turned upside down.

The settlement even had its own mill and bakery, which not many villages had at that time. The houses were nearer to each other, their alleyways filled with late summer flowers, their scent wild.

I didn’t take the skull with me so I could breathe the smell of the food. At the bottom of my soul, I was still a human from the countryside. The one who could forget pain, just by thinking about clouds.

The skull was an omen, reminding me of what I have done and what I would do.

In that village, a nedeie was taking place. A celebration was organised for the holiday.

Many people were milling around, their feet ready to prance. The smell of fasole with ciolan cooked in a cauldron reminded me that I have not eaten properly for two days.

The adults were engaged in a dance of hora, taking two steps to the right, one backwards and two to the left. Looking at their feet moving, hitting the dirt with their opinci or boots, I realised I missed this.

I hoped that, at least once, in this eternity of mine, I could dance in a hora.

The men wore a simple linen shirt, and their trousers were dusty. They were whistling, their high-pitched shouts heard over the valleys.

They were circling the women, also dancing hora, but in a smaller circle. Their garments were simple, but clean. The younger women wore white, the married ones wore cream, and the older ones wore black shirts. Aprons in different colours brightened the women, their batiks ruffled by the breeze.

I wanted to be in their sentiment; therefore, my attire from that day resembled the joyful atmosphere. My skirt and ie were simple, but my vest and apron had poppies sewn by hand, the red thread filling the larger part of the garments.

Near the cauldron, a young boy was mixing the food with a large wooden spoon. Two women were lurking behind him. On that table was a large wooden box, beautifully carved, with money inside.

I fixed my eyes on the women; their dirty hands pushed the lid of the box and grabbed the money.

After seeing them the first time on the Mirror’s shining glass, I dug into their history to see that they were not poor girls stealing for their families. No, they were robbing, then murdering the house owners, just for amusement. It didn’t matter to them if their victims were poor or rich.

Their laughter, after smearing their faces with the blood of their casualties, still rang in my ears.

I squeezed the scythe and travelled to the cauldron.

My steps were silent on the grass, the first gush of cold wind circling my ankles.

Without even thinking, I slashed my scythe into one of the women. Her head rolled over, gold falling from her hand. The other woman screamed at the top of her lungs, making me cover my ears.

A blade that wasn’t mine descended on her.

Opening my eyes, I saw terrified faces looking my way. Screams passed the barrier of my ears, grating on my brain.

“Last time you stopped yourself from taking that soul because there were children there,” the Goat Man’s voice made me breathe again. Even though his tone was harsh. “This time, you lost one.”

“I had her,” I argued.

He only stood still, watching, battling with himself. To chastise me or not.

I sent the scythe away and covered my face with my palms. Instead of five souls left, I had six. Because I was reckless in getting out of the contract and to serve justice. Despite all that, I felt another swirl in, making its way into my eyes.

But it was too late, as the tears swelled in my eyes. Soon, they fell on my cheek, and I felt as if the world stopped again.

There was no music coming from the orchestra, no smell of food. Only the scent of old books. I felt his arms wrapping around me. The touch made my pulse decline from its rampage.

“There will be another soul to take, Ana.”

Grabbing my stomach, bile filled my mouth. Each time I took a soul, my body rejected the notion of me killing, as if it were against my nature.

“I wanted to finish with them sooner.” I winced at the tone of my voice. Sniffing, I released myself from his embrace, my pulse fluttering at the sight of the man whose touch lingered on my skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I am the one who put you into this situation.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it lightly. “You did a wonderful job so far. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

I nodded. “Yes, despite everything, I did a good job,” I snorted.

Hearing the sound that came from my mouth, he laughed. Dragging me with him in his frenzy.

Laughter. Joy.

It was an odd thing.

My eyes roamed over him once. It was the first time the Goat Man had ever worn a belt or a vest under his cloak. Usually, he would wear a linen shirt and trousers. But then, he added a large belt of leather with floral motifs, and his vest had the same design.

“Is there something the matter? Am I stained?” he asked and looked over himself, disregarding everyone around us.

“No. You look more alive.”

Trying to run away from my feelings again, I passed by him. His hand touched my waist lightly, his odd eyes watching me.

“I have to show you something,” he rasped, his eyes on my lips.

He tightened his hold on me, his fingers digging into my skin, sending shivers through my body. And once more, I complied, thoughts of anger relinquished.

I was too enthralled by the Goat Man that I did not notice where we were. The pull this creature had on me should not exist, not after how he treated me. And still, he tried to be better.

Perhaps he was practising being human after all these centuries.

He confused me, he pulled and pushed, throwing me over the edge, a lint over his shoulder. But my mind never lied. The feelings I had, I only read about them in books or heard stories from the other girls in the village, usually married. I never dreamt of touching a man like I wanted to touch him, to feel his weight on me and let myself be consumed by his own nightmare.

But he represented the opposite of what I was, of everything I believed.

I had the love of God in me, still. The Goat Man had darkness creeping around. The many souls he took were visible in his eyes, blue swirls covering almost the entirety of the white orbs.

He drove me to madness. And despite everything, my soul never lied. I wanted him in every shape or form.

And what would be of me, once this contract is completed?

The Goat Man twirled me around, a destroyed hut before my eyes. Its wood was broken, eaten by termites and time, dirt covered the porch, and vines were growing through it. The stones which were used for the walls were still standing, the only clue that there was a house at one point in history.

“What is this?” I said, moving away from him.

“It used to be my house.” His voice flew in the wind, surprising me.

He took a step towards the first step of the porch. “We were five siblings. I was the youngest boy. I tried to remember anything before that moment, but it feels as if that is my first memory. Ever.” He sighed, stepping next to the former hut. “My middle brother died there.” His long finger pointed to a spot on the stairs. “His blood seeped into the ground so fast…”

He turned and climbed one more step, his pain palpable. I felt the blood pulsing in my veins, ready to break them. My heart might be gone while I wore the body of eternity, but the feelings were there. If I had a ticker, then it would have broken at seeing his frantic eyes.

“And here,” he said low, “was my little sister. Most likely running from…”

Him.

I stepped closer to him, my feet caressed by the grass.

“And there,” he showed with his hands stretched to the end of the porch, “were my other brother and sister.”

The Goat Man crashed down, sobs rippling through the air, his scream cracking the remaining stones of the ancient house's skeleton.

How almighty he seemed the first time I laid my eyes on him with his scythe slaughtering my father’s hand.

And right before my eyes, he became…vulnerable.

I knelt next to him, my arms wrapping around his neck, his fear calling to my kindness.

He let his head fall on my shoulder, tears wetting my ie. His fingers dug into my skin until they turned white. I let him cry his sorrows, bending my head on his, my hair covering his face, cloaking him from the world.

The Goat Man

“I was wrong about you, Ana,” I whispered, tears drying on my face.

The evening sun turned the sky into a piece of art. The rose, red and orange cast soft shadows on the woman from my right. Her delicate gestures made me wonder how I came across her. How the Mirror sent me to take her father, and instead, she selflessly offered the purest soul I have ever met.

If I were her, I would have let her father die.

Deep down, into my undying core, I knew I was not worthy of her. Her whole being was mesmerising. Ana embraced her new world, slower at times, as if she owned it.

“Yes, you were,” she stated, her white eyes with five swirls of blue locked on my cheeks. Her hand caressed the grass at her legs, her dark hair gaining a red hue in the sunset.

I smirked, a huff of air coming from my mouth. “I beg forgiveness for everything ill I’ve done to you.”

She swallowed, the sound making my shoulders slump further. “As you should, Goat Man.” Her eyes saw something far away. “Thank you for showing me this side of yours.”

“Which side?” I asked, my brows knitting.

“The one you’ve lost.” Her voice softened as she spoke. Meeting my eyes, a small smile appeared on her lips. “After all, the grand Goat Man is fragile.”

I smiled. “Only in your presence, inimă”.

Her eyes turned serious on me. “I should hope so. You made me pass through hurtful things.”

“I’m sorry. I had no other way of getting to my wish.”

She scoffed. “You could have asked with kindness, Goat Man.” But she knew there was no way she would have accepted my contract even if I had begged on my knees. Ana sighed. “Is that what you want? To feel your heart beating again?”

“More than anything in the world,” I confessed, my eyes astray.

“Why did you accept to be the Goat Man in the first place?” she asked, her dark eyebrows joining. They formed a small line between them. My hand twitched as I contemplated if I should touch it.

“I don’t think I ever had another choice in joining this darkness.”

She pondered my words for a moment.

I took a deep breath, watching over my shoulder the remains of my former home. As much as I tried, there was nothing before the moment I slaughtered my family.

“Have you ever considered helping the people you’ve…” she started but cut herself off in search of words.

“Killed? Decapitated? And other painful ways of being murdered?” I suggested, raising my eyebrows. Her hand hovered next to mine as she watched them together.

“Yes," she answered, her voice shaking. “We do not think about the souls’ families. We do not try to save either of them. We just cut the evil from the root, and that is barbaric…”

My throat felt dry. “You might be right in saying that we do not save them while they are alive. Look at my servant…”

“Andrei,” she interrupted, a frown forming between her eyebrows.

“Andrei,” I repeated, “suffered in life and thrives in death.” And it was the truth. The boy was so tormented by the voices in his head that he wanted to end everything. “But the souls you’ve ripped so far, did more harm than many people you know have. And they would have continued,” I added. Taking a deep breath, I resumed my speech. “You cannot see the world only in black and white, Ana. The world is meant to be grey. Some people want to paint their life as black. Like the ones you took.”

I watched as understanding dawned on her. “And some people keep their lives as pristine as when they were born.”

“Yes, there are very few of those,” I admitted.

“Mine is white and sprinkled with grey,” she whispered, her eyes on the sun.

We stayed quiet, our hair tousled from the breeze.

My mind was still conjuring the only memory I had of my family. The feeling of blood on my feet was still vivid. Their faces were as clear then as they were when vacant gazes replaced joyful ones.

“Did you think to ask your master about how you became the Goat Man?”

I chuckled. “I became the Goat Man because I killed my family, that is clear.”

She shook her head, her hair brushing my fingertips. “I am not asking why. But how?”

“No, not entirely,” I admitted. “Most likely, the Elk saw me in his Mirror and decided to take my soul. I cannot remember anything from standing next to my siblings’ lifeless bodies and the moment I chose my skull.”

She mused on my words, her hands intertwined. “What if he did something to you?”

I turned to her, careful not to touch our noses. I barely contained myself from kissing her each time we were this close.

“What do you mean?” I clenched my fists, the wind dancing through our hair.

“You have all these powers, I suppose he is way more powerful than you,” she thought out loud in a soft voice. “Maybe he played with your mind.”

The truth was, I never dared to question my master.

Nobody ever did. We just granted its wishes. In any way, his powers throned over us, making us act as I did with Ana and Andrei.

But what Ana was saying seeped doubt into my mind.

The Elk was the only one I knew for centuries, the only one who could hold the truth.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, the thoughts spiralling into my mind.

She kneeled in front of me, her warm hands capturing my chin. “If you want to find out, let’s go to him.”

I laughed, the sudden feeling of losing this woman drenching my body.

My laughter was rough, throaty, as my neck was a rusty tool, waiting to be used. She watched me, her almost pure eyes widening.

“Do you want us banished?” I asked, worry suddenly clogging my veins.

“No, of course,” she gasped. “But how else would you know if you do not ask?” She stood up on her feet, watching me from above. Her dark lashes touched her cheeks several times.

“Then what? We strut into the Elk’s lair and ask our questions?”

She offered her gentle hand, and I grabbed it. When our skin touched, I felt things I could never feel with her.

“Yes, that is exactly what we’re going to do, Goat Man.”

There was a weight on my chest. Seeing us hand in hand, I had to get all my feelings out.

“I treated you badly, and you are trying to help me.” I shook my head. “I am a pure excuse of a man, who cannot achieve his purpose unless I drag the most caring woman after him.” Her hand squeezed mine once. “I bound you to me by a contract. You cannot leave the lair or its premises, unless you are going to take a soul. I lied, I tortured you with those gruesome images of your family, I made you think you were stupid, I…”

One soft finger touched my lips, making me stop my ranting, “I know, and still, Goat, I forgive you. Maybe this demonstrates that I kept my soul untouched. I won’t forget what you did to me, but I can forgive.”

I took her finger, kissing it once. Her eyes closed as if she was savouring the moment, pink seeping through her pale skin.

She looked at my lips, teeth sinking into hers.

“I…” she whispered, leaning closer to me.

I couldn’t relish in the moment. I couldn’t catch her waist and drag her vest off her shoulders and throw it away. I couldn’t rip the garments off her, the shreds of them decorating my old family’s home. And I couldn’t dive into passion with her. Not if I would taint her soul.

Because someone who doubted themselves when taking a soul was not a ripper. She was still human, in search of her heart.

“We are opposites. You are the light, and I am the shadow.” I closed my eyes, letting her flowery scent wrap around me. “After a time, I would overthrow your light. I cannot do that to you. And everything that passed between us makes me wonder if I would still have a place in your heart.” My words hurt more than every burning thought I had of her. Her chin trembled, and she closed her eyes.

Her hand touched my cheek slightly. “I don’t think we are opposites.”

“No?”

“We might have been at some point, before I took the first soul. But, as I, you’ve changed too.”

There was an urge in me to hold her, to kiss her. But I did not want her to lose herself in it. She was the light that appeared in each dark corner of my mind.

“Let’s see about our master, and then we will resume this discussion,” she proposed, tugging me by my hand.

Once again, I had the confirmation that she was above me. Never in my eternity did I look for answers at my master’s lair. Not once.

She turned around, her skirt floating in the breeze, the perfect picture of a woman walking into the sunset, the beauty of the world fading in front of her.

“Inside, we cannot see a thing,” I warned her. We were in the forest surrounding the ancient cemetery, our eyes on the entrance. “Hold my hand, and I will guide you.”

The moon was already atop the sky, the only light guiding us between murky trees. The gravestones above the lair of my master seemed to mock us, their soldiers deep in slumber.

Ana listened to me and nodded. We threaded through the forest, the thick mist hiding our legs. The whisperers were listening to every little sound, so we needed to keep our words to ourselves.

Once inside, I navigated her through the darkness of the Elk’s lair. She squeezed my hand several times. I just wanted to get her out of there and put her to safety.

I should have refused her. I should have insisted that she stay as far away as possible. Let her get her souls and join her family afterwards. Even though that meant for me not to stare into her eyes anymore. Or feel her perfume. She deserved much more than I had to give.

My feet stopped, and she bumped into my back. Turning around quickly, I’ve placed my hand over her lips. “Do not speak, do not shout,” I whispered, my lips grazing her ear. “If something goes wrong, run.”

I felt her head dip and her eyes on me. With that in mind, I walked to where I knew the Elk was residing.

As soon as I felt the heat of its chamber, I called to it. “Master,” I hissed, the voices of the whisperers creeping on me.

“Ah, what do I owe the pleasure, Goat? I’ve seen the progress of your acolyte. To say the least... intriguing. Somehow, you corrupted her.”

I swallowed the guilt I had, pushed my lungs.

The Elk’s laughter boomed off the walls, the other voices joining. “Except, she lost a soul.”

“A mishap, master,” I said, bowing.

“So be it.”

I couldn’t see a damn thing in the darkness, but its voice was right in front of me. And the whisperers were getting louder. Good. That meant Ana was still safe.

“Tell me, what can I do for you, my oldest friend?”

Friend?

I was not its friend, but its servant.

My focus was to my right, where Ana was waiting. Anything could trigger the whisperers.

“How did I become the Goat Man?”

The darkness was too much to handle in the silence, the voices finally stopping their murmur. I felt a light breeze on my left cheek as the Elk’s hooves circled me.

“Do you want honesty?”

The words bounced off the walls.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling. I closed my eyes, preparing myself.

“Let’s see if you do handle the story, with all its repercussions,” it laughed, the sound cruel to my ears. “There were a shepherd and a shepherdess, a long time ago, before you were born. Their sheep were the best in the land, their wool sought out by emperors, making the shepherds amass wealth. The shepherds had five children, the oldest being the greediest among them.”

I listened carefully to its words. The nape of my neck burned, and I knew a pair of icy blue eyes was on me. Listening. Waiting.

“The shepherds worked hard for their land,” the Elk continued. “They were selling sheep cheese, sheepskin hats and coats at fairs. Once they were old enough, their sheep would get turned into meat, sold every Saturday in the market.” My brows furrowed, not understanding where it was going with this. “They had five children.”

“As it is the custom in that land, the wealth would have been divided equally among all five. But the oldest son, as greedy as he was, did not want to share the wealth. And so, he started by killing his parents.” I heard the cruel smile in its voice. “One night, he took a scythe from the stables and killed two of their siblings, a brother and a sister.”

“His little sister ran to him for help, but he pushed the scythe’s blade into her chest, carving the small girl’s heart out,” he rambled on, and I had a feeling that I wouldn’t like the end of this. “The youngest brother was not at home, so the oldest waited and waited until flies came around his siblings’ bodies, eating them. When his brother appeared, they both fought, and unfortunately, the youngest brother won by killing the oldest.”

Unfortunately, the youngest brother won.

Dread filled me, images coming through my mind. Fights with my brother, my parents’ serene faces filling my mind, the laughter of my little sister, and how beautiful my older sister was in her Sunday dress.

Everything came back.

A powerful light came from my left, a skull discarded on the stony floor. Blue-filled eyes with black specks watched me under the light of a single candle.

“Hello, brother.”

Ana

If I had had a heart, it would have exploded into millions of pieces. Both of my hands flew to my mouth to keep my breathing in check.

I was wrong about him. As he was about me.

Yes, he did take the souls of people in the centuries he was the Goat Man. But he did all of that because of his brother. Who was no other than the Elk. My pulse quickened as I heard shuffling coming from where the Goat and the Elk stood.

At once, something snapped, followed by a piercing scream. My back glued to the wall of the cave; my body petrified in fear, warm tears drowning my eyes. Behind me, I heard someone murmuring, but I could only focus on the Goat Man’s screams.

They wrecked my body in ways I didn’t know it could.

Swallowing my tears, I took a deep breath.

My mind was, for once, in accord with my feelings, and I pushed myself off the cold stone, my fingers brushing it. I was guided by the snaps of bones and the screams of pain coming from the man who occupied my mind.

“Stop!” I shouted.

The snaps halted, but the screams turned into sobs.

My feet hit something soft, and I felt his voice calling for me. With my hands, I reached through the darkness, and I found something warm and thick. I knew what it was.

Blood.

My fingertips were coated in it, and I felt my own blood boiling, my muscles and veins straining against my skin.

“Who are you to command me, Stag Woman?”

I swallowed; all the courage I had earlier dissipating. Closing my eyes, I willed my pulse to stop its race against my veins. A warm hand touched my fingers and squeezed once, as if to say that he would be with me, despite the pain in his body.

“Leave him alone, Master!” I demanded through my teeth, holding the Goat Man’s hand, his shallow breaths ringing in my ears.

The Elk’s laughter replaced any other sound. “You’re ordering me, peasant?”

There was a similarity between the brothers, and that was their mockery. Although the Goat Man has changed for the better, his brother was the worst.

Don’t leave me, God. Even if I do not choose You this time.

“Please, let him go!” I begged, almost falling to my knees. “I…”

“Hm.” The Elk seemed to ponder, and I knew something evil would follow. I heard the clatter of hooves on the stones. “No, but…” its words crawled on my skin, “there’s a way you could free him.” Its voice seemed to travel over the walls, piercing my mind.

“Ana,” the Goat Man whispered, pulling me to my knees. Both of his hands searched for mine. “Leave me here and go. He will not end me, not until the contract is through. Go!”

“How can you be so selfish?” I asked, grabbing his arms. “Don’t you think that…” The words were blocked in my throat. Taking a deep breath, I touched my forehead to his. “I have a contract to fulfil, Goat Man.”

“Tiberius.”

My legs felt numb. “What?”

“That is my birth name. Remember it, Ana! Because it was too long since someone else knew it.”

I stood up, my blood flowing faster. Because yet again, the creature which took me was bare before me.

“Tell me, Master, what do I have to do in order to release the Goat Man?” My voice was steadier than my pulse and thoughts. I wanted to say his name out loud with every fibre of my being, but not here. Not when his brother was watching us from the darkness.

“Glad that you finally noticed my presence, Stag Woman.” The Elk spat the last two words as if they were bitter on its tongue. “What you have to do is to take the soul of something that you believe in.”

“I won’t kill the Goat Man,” I said, my mind already conjuring the darkness that would capture my own soul.

“Good to know that you value my brother,” it chuckled, moving closer to me. I felt a gush of warm air on my face, and it reeked of death. “As much as I would love that, I do not desire his soul. Not yet, anyway.”

The Elk surely wanted his brother human. After all, the Goat Man would be the heir to whatever fortune they had.

“I want you to think about my previous words.” I felt its body closer to mine, and it made me squirm in my own skin. “Take the soul of something that you believe in,” he repeated. “Until then, my brother will stay here and reminisce about his previous life.”

“Ana, don’t!” The Goat Man shouted, but his urgency was soon replaced by cries of pain.

“Tiberius!” I yelled his name over and over again until my throat became hoarse.

My body felt numb as it was pushed out of the cave.

The light of the moon was hurting my eyes. Squeezing my eyelids, I breathed. Once. Twice.

It was time for the Elk to see that the Goat Man was not alone anymore.

The fifth soul

Five days had passed since.

“You exhaust yourself, Ana.”

Andrei floated around me as soon as I arrived in our cave. I bit my cheek, thinking that two months ago, I called this lair my own Hell. And after everything, it was our cave.

Ignoring him, I continued to swipe through the sea of souls that my Mirror showed. There were too many evil people in this world, and still, there were none who would mean what the Elk asked. Something I believed in. What could that possibly be? I believed in many things, and not one was evil.

Not even the Goat Man.

Tiberius.

“What about this one?” Andrei asked, his translucent body coming next to me. He smelled of fresh-cooked food, but I couldn’t stomach anything.

His eyes stopped on a child, who was doing unspeakable things to rats.

“I cannot take the life of a child, Andrei!” I almost threw the mirror away, my eyes roving over the glass. Although he resembled an angel, his actions were the opposite.

“Fine, then continue your despair!” His hands were up in the air, their movement flickering the flames of the candles, almost extinguishing them. He paced around the kitchen table, making me more nervous than I already was.

I gritted my teeth and continued.

Bruises covered my fingers from swiping on the Mirror's thick glass. One soul after another, I couldn't unravel what Elk meant by something ‘I believed in’. There were many things I had faith in.

God, love, sisterhood, family. Even the stallion that neighed loudly had a place in my heart. Poor beast sniffed my hair continuously, for comfort.

For the most part, I believed in what I felt for him. Even if I couldn’t voice it or act towards it, I believe I could fight for his freedom. Remembering his screams, I pushed myself to search further through the Mirror for days. Which meant that for days, he was under his brother’s torture.

My eyes felt heavy as images of evil people around the world played on my Mirror’s glass.

Once it got to a man wearing a large black dress.

Not a dress. A cassock.

I felt my pulse slowing down and the colour draining from my cheeks. My ears became hot, and my breathing accelerated.

Something that I believe in.

God. His love for people spread through the words of priests.

Before my eyes, the man wearing the holy cassock was doing unspeakable things to women. His hands did not soothe but hit. Instead of caressing, he broke skin. The priest did not impart wisdom, but punishment. Instead of leaving God to spread His judgement, the priest was doing it.

“The Elk… is the devil incarnate,” Andrei whispered from behind my back.

“Yes.”

If the Elk wanted me to lose my belief in God, he would be disappointed. I knew that not all priests were like the one I was looking at. Priest Neagu was the image of kindness with anyone who would step inside his church. And I have changed so much since I joined Tiberius.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

I shook my head at the ghost. “No, I need to be doing this alone,” I whispered, grabbing one of Tiberius’s cloaks. The dark fabric was smooth on my skin, and the smell of old books and wax was imprinted on me. With a swift move, I called on my scythe. “Just be ready to tend to his wounds.”

Andrei nodded and breathed loudly. “Take care, Ana! And most importantly, this time, do not hesitate!”

God Himself must have placed me on this path. To prove my beliefs. As I said to the Elk, the Order had scythes to deliver justice on Earth. But ultimately, God had the power to decide which soul belonged to Him.

There was no hunger, no thirst, as I was waiting in front of the church. My eyes roamed over the holy place; paintings of different saints were shining in the afternoon light. The cross which stood on top of the roof whispered to me to back down. But I couldn’t.

Its large arcade windows were closed, and I felt the smell of burnt wax coming from inside the holy place.

The air was colder than outside, even if plenty of candles were aflame. My eyes hit the altar’s golden doors, where the priest was.

The holy place was larger than any church I have seen. Ten rows of pews occupied most of the space. Paintings of saints decorated the inside walls, with Mother Mary and John the Baptist guarding the altar doors. There were fresh flowers on each step that led to the room behind the golden gates.

A whimper caught my ear, and my head jerked to it.

Before the painted saints stood an older woman, holding a younger one. The latter’s skin was broken, just as I saw in my Mirror. The elderly woman’s eyes bulged as she saw me, but I shook my head. Then her gaze travelled to my scythe, tightening her hold on the younger woman.

My feet walked further until I reached the stand that held an icon picturing the Mother Mary and her child. I made the cross sign, kissed it and then prayed for forgiveness.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Behold the handmaid of the Lord: Be it done unto me according to Thy word.”

“Oh,” someone said behind the stand.

I lifted my eyes, and the priest stood with a golden cross in his hands. His cassock was open, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I didn’t want to tarnish the house of God. Therefore, I pushed his body out of it. He landed outside the church, in the cemetery, his head bouncing off the pebbled ground. Multiple gravestones watched as my scythe appeared at the priest's neck.

“Who are you?” the priest asked, crawling on his knees.

The blade touched the skin of his neck, a drip of blood staining it.

“I am the one who believed every person had something good in them. But recently,” I took a deep breath, imagining Tiberius’s eyes, “someone showed me that evil can reside in everyone.”

“I am not evil!” he argued. “I am only doing God’s work!”

I stifled a laugh. “God would not send His messenger to inflict pain.”

“The woman was vile! She wouldn’t serve her husband.”

“And that is why you decided to bleed her under God’s roof?”

“She needed to be punished!”

The woman from the church reminded me of my mum, doing everything she could to not rile up my father.

Closing my eyes, I grabbed the scythe and plunged the blade into his neck. The force of the hit made me retreat a few steps behind, keeping my eyes on the lifeless body.

A fifth swirl was added to my eyes.

With the corner of my eye, I saw the two women getting out of the church. They walked hand in hand to me. The younger woman covered her mouth at seeing the priest’s decapitated body lying at my feet. Her dark eyes widened, but despite the fear, she kept her head straight.

On the other side, the older woman smiled. “That priest made my daughter suffer. He was no man of God!”

I simply nodded as my gaze travelled over the bloodied cassock. “Let it be a lesson, then.” I stepped away from them and travelled to the cave.

I didn’t feel remorse for taking the soul of a priest. Not when he was creating pain instead of alleviating it. Once my feet touched the dirt before the cave, I ran inside. My eyes couldn’t focus on anything else besides the kitchen.

That stood empty.

My pulse quickened, and I yelled for Andrei. No response came. Furrowing my eyebrows, I walked further to Tiberius’s room. The chamber was exactly as I left it that morning. Void.

His immense Mirror pulsed with a red light, as if calling for me. My steps faltered as I walked to it. One finger tapped the pristine glass, and a crack appeared on the Mirror.

“Well, you surprised me,” the Elk’s voice filled the space around me.

“Set him free,” I ordered, my head standing straighter.

Its laughter pinched my skin. The Elk was surrounded by darkness, as its soul was. I squinted, but there was nothing beyond the glass.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, peasant. But it took you long enough, so I demand another soul!”

I swallowed. “You said that I needed to take one soul, and you’ll release Tiberius.” My fingers twitched. “You’re not a beast of your word, then.” My blood travelled faster through my veins, my head aching.

“First of all, I am not a beast, peasant. I am a God!”

“Not mine.”

“I see you have not relinquished your beliefs,” he mused, his words creating another crack in the Mirror.

“I think you knew that already,” I whispered.

The candles’ reflection in the Mirror flickered, threatening to burn everything around them. In that moment, I didn’t know who was angrier, me or the creature who stood behind the darkness.

“One more soul, peasant. And I’ll deliver the man who screams for you.” Its lips smacked. “Oh, and all the rest of the souls must be taken by the first month of the New Year. Otherwise, both of you will be ashes.”

And with that, everything became a haze.

Images of Tiberius's magnificent eyes captured my mind as I crumpled to the ground. Every touch, every bad and kind word came to my mind. Every time he tried to keep me safe in his world crowded my imagination. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

“Ana?”

A squeaky voice called my name, but I couldn’t focus my eyes on anything other than my reflection in the Souls’ Mirror. Almost pristine eyes watched my pale skin. I never felt so useless.

“Woman, wake up!”

A cold sensation passed through my body. I looked up, and Andrei was sitting right on my leg. Shivers passed down my skin as his translucent figure stood above me. It was as if I could feel death on my skin.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and stepped aside. “But you seemed lost there.”

“I am lost,” I admitted, shivering. “The Elk asked me for another soul.” My feet shot up; my attention snagged by a third crack appearing on the Souls’ Mirror.

"Oh!" His yelp made me jump. “It would be your sixth, right?”

“Yes.” I bit my lip. “But this time, the Elk didn’t mention who it should be.” My hands fretted as I walked to my room. The Mirror stood on my bed, waiting. “Which is a good thing.” Taking a deep breath, I stopped. “And then the Elk will deliver Tiberius.”

The boy sauntered after me, his eyes fixed on my hands. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘delivered’? I do hope the Goat Man would be alive, otherwise I don’t know what to do with my afterlife!”

I grabbed the Mirror and began my search, dread passing through my skin. “He can die?” My voice changed from a second ago; it was harsher, hoarser and ready to shout.

“Not entirely. As all of us, you and he can be tortured, beaten, stabbed, gutted, and a lot more. In your human form. With your skull on, you are untouchable.” He floated closer to me. “The only one who could die is his spirit.”

Trying to ignore the images out of my head, I grabbed my Mirror again and tapped it. Red spread over the glass as if the Mirror knew exactly what I was missing. A smile spread over my lips.

I refused to let Tiberius die. Not when we were halfway through fulfilling that wretched contract.

The Goat Man

“Brother, such a joyous reunion!” the Elk shouted, waking me up from my daze.

I couldn’t open my eyes; they were too swollen. I lost count of how many times his hooves had hit me in the past days, as if I were a rag doll. He pushed his antlers into my skin, and he kept me alive only to feel my organs bleed.

The candles flickered once when he entered the room.

“Too bad you cannot talk.” He was right about that. He used his powers to sew my mouth shut with wool. Poetic. Wool was how our parents made a living. “Therefore, I will talk, little brother.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to me. “When you killed me, I didn’t know you had the nerve. You were so sure with the scythe; I knew what to do in death.” He hit his hooves together once, pushing my body jerk forward. “Humans are so meagre in thinking there’s no Hell out there. Because it exists, in our subconscious, in our sins. And I have plenty of those.” The sound that came from his chest was close to laughter, but it sounded more like a cough.

“Before your scythe took me,” the bitterness returned to his voice, “I prayed.” I heard him pace, the clack of hooves drumming in my ears. “It was the first time I did it, brother. Such a weak thing! However, I prayed not to God, but to the Devil. And he listened.”

My brother stood quiet for a time, during which I hoped he would think better and leave. Still, he spoke again.

“After all, he is mightier than any deity men and women think of.” The air swished as the Elk moved. “He provided me with these powers, and thus I created a means to an end.”

The Elk sighed as if he was out of breath. “In any case, I chose to create this Order because in my search for you, I was bloodthirsty. You might wonder why I kept you alive until now.”

No, I wasn’t. But as I was incapacitated from searching for a way out of his lair, I had to stay and listen to him.

“I wanted to keep you alive until you have something precious to hold in your arms.”

My pulse stilled as my thoughts flew to the woman who was hunting for a fifth soul. The bastard of my brother wanted us to fail from the start. His obsession with corrupting the pure – was it power or punishment?

If he got his hands on someone like Ana, then his plan would have failed from the beginning.

“Our parents wronged me in so many ways. I begged them to write down that they would leave everything to me. I might even have provided you all with alimony.” He laughed again, but I couldn’t place the joke. “No, that was never the truth. I didn’t work this much, so you could take a part of what is mine.” The Elk panted, rustling the dust. “The length one must go to achieve this. The begging, the cries, the prayers thrown into the cauldron.”

“Still, let me put your mind at ease. She does not love you. A woman like her would never waste her breath on a monster like you.”

Lie to yourself, dear brother, if that soothes your pride.

“She’s too caught up in her misery or faith, however you want to call it. But I just made her doubt herself with my request. I am that evil!” His laughter made me vomit. It travelled all over the walls, making the candles flicker, their shadows reaching my eyes.

“Once you die, I can bind myself to someone and turn into a human, just as you will do. That mind of yours was wasted on you! But I digress,” he chuckled. He stopped in front of me, his antlers grazing my face. “That is why I want pure souls.” I heard a smile in his voice. “They would be easier to trick into signing my humanity with them.” The Elk took another step forward. “And then I’ll just end them.”

He roared again and held his stomach. Acid reached my tongue. I squeezed my lids shut to keep myself from vomiting.

“And once you, dear little brother, will die and reach Hell, then I will be the owner of my birthright.”

Ana

The sixth soul

My Mirror guided me to the east side of my country.

The sand was soft between my feet, the seashells cutting into my skin. And the sea…

The shifting of the waves pulled me to it, their song the most bewitching sound I heard. The murky water of the Black Sea was calling my name, the salt filling the air, clinging to my skin.

At once, I thought about Angelica and our promise. She would have visited the mountains, and I would have enjoyed the sea. Of course, we would both experience each other’s dreams. Sighing, I switched my gaze from the water to the sole house on the beach.

It was painted with a light blue, a colour I haven’t seen being used in our area. The roof was tall, almost reaching the sky. It was covered in hay, just as my grandparents did with my former home. The windows were small, the wooden frame eaten by time.

A child was running around it, spreading sand with his little feet. His mother came from inside, warm bread in one hand and an axe in the other. The smell of the fresh bread reached my nose, but my eyes stayed on the axe.

The mother showed the child the food, and his eyes popped, wetting his lips. Poor child, he knew nothing more than hunger. The Mirror showed me how he was fed scraps of food while his mother indulged in various meals.

As she handed him the bread, the axe fell into the child’s stretched hand.

Instead of the child’s skin, my scythe took the blow. I swung the blade of my weapon and mirrored what the Goat Man had done to my father. The woman's right hand flew from her shoulder.

With one move, I sent the axe into the middle of the sea. I took advantage of her astonishment as she saw my eyes, and I kneeled in front of the child. As soon as I met his gaze, something hit me in my hollow chest.

“Go play far away from here, boy!”

My voice drifted over the sand, showing the child where he should wait for me.

I glared at the woman kneeling in front of me, her eyes watching the sand between her fingers.

“Why?” My voice rang through her head, her eyes moving from her missing arm to me, blood flowing on the sand.

When she noticed my scythe, instead of fear, her face scrunched up from rage.

“He does not deserve to live!” she shouted, her face turning red.

“What gives you the right to decide?” I asked, gripping my scythe tightly.

“I made him. I kill him.” She balled her fists. “I will kill you!” she yelled, rising on her feet.

Remembering that I do not have the skull with me, I darted, trying to slow her movements. Her legs were faster than mine, as if she felt no pain, her remaining hand almost catching me by the hood of my cloak.

“Evil beats in his heart! I will breathe easier when he is gone!” she screamed at me, blood still dripping after her.

“How about not breathing at all?”

I avoided her hand, and this time, my scythe swished on her back, grabbing one of her lungs. I pulled it out with it attached, bile climbing to my neck. The itch that a new soul was taken made itself present.

The sixth swirl in my eye.

Thinking that Tiberius deserved these two last souls, I dispelled the thought of breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I stepped up to the boy who was building something out of sand and water.

I sent the scythe away with a thought, so I wouldn't frighten him.

My pulse quickened, replaying in my mind what life that boy had. He was beaten, secluded, flogged and spat on by his mother, his father having passed away in the last war.

I gathered it wasn’t easy for her. The pain of losing her husband and having to take care of a child alone must have been difficult.

But never treat a child as one would treat dirt.

I sat next to him on the sand. His amber eyes watched the sand fall through his fingers. It settled on the citadel he tried to build with salty water.

“Is she gone?” he whispered in the gentlest voice I ever heard.

If I had a heart, it would be filled with sympathy for him.

“Yes, she is,” I said out loud, my hands fiddling with each other. “Are you alone in the world?”

“Yes, are you?”

His question left me puzzled, my eyebrows raising and falling without a figured answer.

I did not have my family anymore. Even if I checked on them often, disgrace fell on me. On the other hand, I was growing fond of Andrei, even though he was still a reckless young boy.

And for Tiberius, there were more feelings than a mouth can speak.

“I think…yes and no,” I finally answered.

The boy nodded, and I had the idea of inviting him for tea and some food.

And he was not an evil child.

Three days have passed since I took the child with me. Two nights have passed since the Elk promised me that Tiberius would be brought back. I paced around the cave, day and night, waiting. Andrei kept rolling his eyes in his head.

I couldn’t sleep properly or eat anything more than bread, cheese and tomatoes. Anything else would hurt my stomach.

In one moment of awareness, I told the child, Eugen, everything about the Goat Man and his story. How Andrei joined him and how I came to extract six souls. I thought it best not to share the gore, so I wouldn't frighten him. His golden eyes grew every time he found out something new.

And he was the only one who could touch Andrei without getting too squirmy. The boy found everything exhilarating. From the ghost to the Mirrors, from the candles that seemed to never end to the food that became more delicious under my guidance.

Eugen remained with us for longer than the cup of tea. I gathered so many protective feelings for this small child that I convinced Andrei to also join in taking care of him. Both of us stared as the boy described his unhappy life until I took him.

His grandparents, along with his father, had passed away in the war. His mother reflected her pain through beatings over his smooth skin.

Just as my father did.

“What’s this?” asked Eugen, holding a piece of bread smeared in jam.

My eyes travelled to him, but no words were coming out of my mouth. Not wanting to hurt the boy’s feelings, I gestured to Andrei.

The ghost cleared his throat. “A scythe. Please do not touch that, it might cut your skin,” he warned, as gently as he could.

A cold breeze touched my legs, and all three of us snapped our heads to the entrance of the cave. The candles flickered as all three of us moved towards the source of the gush. I pushed past the ghost, ignoring the sensation that the touch created on my skin.

Tiberius was delivered to us, carried by a breeze alongside leaves in a large array of autumnal colours, his chest barely rising. I thought I would faint at the sight of him.

He was bruised all over his face, chest and hands as if he had been hit continuously. Andrei sprang into action and laid Tiberius in his chamber. There was blood everywhere, seeping from his stomach.

Eugen had to push me out of the room, just to stay sane. His hands grabbed mine and pulled me into the hallway.

“How many souls do you still have to take?”

His question made me look at him. It was a ploy to keep my attention off the room where the man who stood between death and life was.

“Four,” I whispered back.

“And how many months?”

It was the end of Răpciune.

“Not enough.”

The month of Brumărel began with Andrei trying to nurse Tiberius back to health. The ghost sent me far away on the first night, because I would cry and pray.

After a few days, Andrei had to lure an old woman from my village to mend Tiberius from the state he was in. She came for two weeks every day, at the same time with the same ointments.

Every time the woman left the cave, Eugen told me that she would sing disenchantments about wounds and the evil eye.

She would start her rituals by extinguishing a match in a glass of water, saying:

Run away, evil eye,

From the eyes,

Because it reaches you, it arrives,

And the heavenly sword of fire,

Divine Providence punishes you bitterly.

Go, disappear, as the mists disappear

When the winds blow,

As the dew disappears in the sun,

As the foam of the sea disappears.

And every time she left, she would turn three times on the thresholds, saying the same chant.

“I don’t believe in this,” Eugen told me one night while we ate eggplant salad with sour cream at the kitchen’s round table.

The scent of vinegar filled the unaired room, provoking sneezes from the child. In two large pots, water was mixed with vinegar and sugar, close to the boiling point. Large glass jars occupied half of the floor, and one large barrel the other half. In the latter, cabbage waited to be mixed with salt, sugar and water.

“Why?” I asked, wiping some crumbles from my mouth.

“Nothing ever happens after the old lady says her incantations,” he replied, grabbing a mug filled to the brim with milk.

“Did you believe in the existence of the Order until you met Andrei and me?” I tilted my head, my eyes on the face he was pulling. His lips pouted, and his nose scrunched.

Eugen frowned, looking like a cat. “I don’t know what to say...” He resigned, pressing his chin to his chest. With his hands, he smothered a doll Andrei made for him out of hay. He eyed the food left on the table.

“My dear boy, you can believe in many things or not. This defines you as a person. It is fine if you do not trust the old woman. But I want to.” My hands touched his smaller one, squeezing once.

“You better.”

My hand stilled on Eugen’s; my mind reeled.

As slowly as I could, holding my breath, I turned my head to him.

And there he was.

The man who instilled fear in others, and still could ignite my mind and body. The man who laid his soul at my feet, refusing himself to act on his feelings, afraid of tainting me.

His body looked better, no more bruises, cuts or broken bones. But his eyes were haunted, a mix between misery and violence.

I stood up, my feet running to him and my arms wrapping around his neck, inhaling his scent. Earth, old books and wax. His hands grabbed my waist tightly, the feelings overbearing.

“Are you husband and wife?” Eugen’s voice ripped the moment.

Oh, right, he didn’t know I took a child with me and kept him here for weeks.

Tiberius’s jaw clenched, and a guttural sound came from his neck. He became, once more, the feared Goat Man. With great effort, I pried my hands off his shoulders and placed myself between the two.

“And who is that mongrel?” Goat asked, one of his eyebrows lifting.

“I am Eugen, I am a boy, and I am six years old. Ana killed my mum, and out of pity, she took me in.”

That summed it up.

I could feel the blood rise to my face, and I smiled as widely as I could.

Tiberius tilted his head, his gaze moving between the boy and me. My hands clasped in prayer over my chest.

“If the child brings this agonising smile on your face, he can stay,” Tiberius said, arching his eyebrows.

I cheered and kissed the boy on his scalp, urging him to go out and help Andrei with collecting the walnuts from the trees.

Goat took a seat at the small table after the boy pranced from the room. He poured a glass of cold water from the fountain in the village, which was collected that morning by Eugen.

Tiberius glanced once at the food, his nose scrunching.

“You do not like eggplant salad?” I asked, pulling the bowl towards me.

“I cannot stomach anything. Andrei tried making me, but everything tasted like ash.”

“I have to apologise for not believing you.” I fretted with the apron, but my gaze was steady on him.

“What else would you have thought?” He tried to smile, but his lips weren’t moving much.

I stood next to him, fiddling with my fingers. Questions about his time spent with the Elk crossed my mind, but I felt as if I would intrude. But the Goat Man knew me better.

“Ask away, Ana.”

I took a seat at the table, clearing my throat. “And you’d better offer me some answers! I had to take the soul of a priest and a mother for you to get back to me.”

His eyes snapped, knowing well what that meant for me. My love for God and the wish I have had in my heart since I became a woman. I gave that to him. More remorse, because I was mistaken. I accused Tiberius of killing his family when, in reality, the Elk did that.

“You heard what he said then. He took the lives of our parents. Afterwards, he took the ones of our siblings. For nothing else than a piece of land.” He swallowed, his eyes burning mine. “And the fact that he turned me into this being, which cannot feel completely, is the vilest of all.” His hands twitched on the table, drawing my eyes to them. “He made me kill people for his bidding. Just as I did with you.”

My eyebrows knitted. “You are a decent being, now,” I said, watching as a smile spread over his lips. “Is there no chance for him to turn around?”

He shook his head. “No. The Elk is way beyond repair.” I noticed how he didn’t use the word brother.

“What happened there after I left?” I asked. My fingers dabbed on the table, not knowing what else to do with them.

Tiberius sighed, taking the ceramic mug of water. “He did nothing more than what I expected the moment I entered the cave. That is why I told you to stay behind.” He took another loud breath, his shoulders shaking. “After you left, he took me into a chamber that was so bright, I thought I was blind. He held me suspended by the ceiling and,” he gulped, “used a saw to cut my skin. Slowly.” Tiberius drank more water as my hair’s ends raised. “Lastly, he turned his words into whips, and you can imagine further.”

I closed my eyes, my pulse quickening. “Why would he do that?”

“To remind me that I am beneath him.” Pain was embedded on his face, his eyes falling to his hands. “The Elk still has the idea that I am after his heirloom, when my only wish is to feel.”

I placed my hand over his. The touch froze me and warmed me at the same time. I was sure of what I felt for the man who got tortured for wanting a heart. “You’re not beneath him, Tiberius.” I felt his muscles twitch against my skin.

“I love how the sound of my name falls from your lips.”

My cheeks burned. I was not used to being talked to as such, but the last months showed me that I wasn’t a prude anymore. As soon as I saw him on the kitchen’s threshold, something missing was finally glued in my soul.

“You’re blushing.”

His statement made me avert my eyes. “Yes, well, ahm,” I mumbled, getting away from the table. I was not yet prepared to relinquish myself from the light of God. But then again, was the Goat Man as dark as his story said?

I wasn’t thinking about the one mothers used to tell their naughty children. Or the one I was frightened of, before starting to care for him.

Because I did. So much that I stayed fused to his bed after he arrived from the Elk’s lair. So much that my pulse travelled wildly.

Turning my back on him, I tried to make myself busy with the pickled jars. “What do we do now?”

The chair scraped the stone, the sound making me jump. I felt his warm breath over the nape of my neck. I cursed myself for tying my hair in a bun. Just being in his presence made my body burn.

Without him, I couldn’t breathe. With him, my lungs seemed to malfunction, and my mind was focused only on his presence.

“Now,” he breathed over my head, making my pulse jump, “we search for a way of getting out of the mess I created.”

I turned around, my nose bumping into his chin. “Sorry,” I whispered. I knew my feelings were written in my eyes, so I closed them. His fingers touched my chin, lifting it. Warm breath grazed my lips, parting them.

“Are you still afraid of me?”

“No, Tiberius. But of me,” I admitted, squeezing my eyelids.

“Why is that?” he whispered.

Swallowing, I took a deep breath. Opening my eyes, I got lost in his. “There’s a fight between what I feel for you and what God taught me.” My fingers touched his arms, his lean muscles clenching under my fingertips. “I cannot choose between you two.”

He blinked, slowly. “What is it that you feel for me?”

I couldn’t tell him the truth when a new threat loomed over our heads.

He continued, keeping me under his spell. “My name in your voice can build me a heart out of nothing, Ana. Somehow, by making you sign the contract, I also signed for a want of mine.”

“What is that?” I asked, my voice low.

“A person I could spend my humanity with.”

The declaration warmed my blood, a heat I felt only with him, captivating both my body and mind.

“But how?" As he explained before, there was no going back for me. I would have to remain in this eternal body.

“I am not sure how, but before you collect your tenth soul, we need to stop him from taking more as yours,” he said, his eyes moving from my lips to my eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m that pure anymore.”

He took a step aside, releasing me from his agonising embrace. “Ana, just because you took six souls, it doesn’t mean you’re not a good person anymore.”

“I wasn’t referring to that.” Tears welled up in my eyes.

Tiberius took my hand in his. “Somehow, we will do it. And if we do not, we will meet again in death.”

The Goat Man

The loud neighing of my horse awoke me from my restless slumber. My eyes would not, by any means, pry open, and my body resisted my mind’s urge to check what was happening outside.

It was harder to sleep with a curious child running on the rocky floor, following me around the cave, and demanding multiple stories from me. Like him, Ana wanted to hear everything. She winced at every sentence that contained the words decapitated, broken, or blood.

As if she hadn’t taken six souls already.

In honesty, I liked the setting she had created in my absence. I did not mind that my feet would step on finely crafted wooden cubes that Andrei had sculpted and gifted to the child as a toy and for him to build the largest tower in the village, as he put it.

I surprised myself in the past few days watching Ana with Eugen. She was a woman born to be a mother. And I took that from her with my selfish act. With each glance at the child, I saw the remorse in her eyes, the nose flaring, followed by a killer look. And every time she did that, my pulse jumped, the guilt eating me alive.

Another neigh broke the tender silence of the morning.

With a grunt, I stood up, my naked body travelling to the chair where I had left my robe. The soft fabric glided over my skin, my pale fingers tying the knot at my waist.

I wandered to the kitchen, where Ana kneaded dough on the wooden table.

“I’m making pogăci,” she announced, moving to a small basin where cheese waited to fill the dough. I peeked over the rim, pulled by the scent.

“That’s a lot of cheese. Are you cooking for an army?” I raised my eyebrow watching her hands covered in bits of dough.

She huffed, a smile breaking over her lips. “This child eats more than the two of us combined.”

“My little sister was like this, eating whatever she could. She was the wonder of the family, since, according to my parents, the older siblings would fuss with everything they offered,” I said, watching her hands shaking at the sound of my voice.

Her eyes met mine, and we stood there for a couple of seconds, admiring each other.

“Yes… well,” she cleared her throat. “I believe Andrei and Eugen are doing something to the stallion, I heard him neighing.”

Flour stained her apron, the contrast between the white and the ink-coloured garment standing out. Just like us.

“Andrei is trying to clean the stable, and the horse won’t budge. And Eugen is watching the scene,” she chuckled.

She was trying to deflect me from questioning her feelings. But I noticed her cheeks getting red and her lips parting as if she wanted me to kiss her. And oh, how much I wanted to do that. Not until she realises that there is room in her soul for both her god and me.

I grabbed her floury hand and kissed it, enjoying her turmoil far too much. “I’ll join them; maybe I can convince the stubborn horse to get out.”

Clothes dressed my body as I walked out of the kitchen, sending back my robe to my chamber. The linen shirt was covered by a mantle with tassels, woven in double folds. My legs were covered by thicker breeches, the winter wind already settling.

As I got out of the cave, dark clouds shimmered in the sky, the scent of rain clinging in the air. My head turned towards the sound of hooves hitting the ground.

Around the cave, a stable, high as my stallion, was packed with hay for the winter. The horse was galloping around it, the boy holding it by the mane. Seeing that, I ran to them, stopping the movement with my hand.

“Boy! Get down now!”

Seeing his pale face and his swollen eyes awakened something within me. I was scared for his life. That stallion was not meant to be ridden by fragile humans. For the second time in my immortality, I felt fear for someone other than me.

Eugen’s fragile body slid elegantly from the saddle, his feet creating a thump as dust flew around his legs.

“What were you thinking?” I asked, rushing to his side. “It could have thrown you!”

I felt my pulse in my ears; my breath was as wild as the stallion’s gallop. Kneeling in front of the boy, I pressed my fingers lightly all over his body.

“I am not hurt, Mr Goat Man,” the boy whined, trying to escape from my hands.

“Fine, but don’t come crying later,” I rasped, taking a step back.

His large amber eyes searched my face. “Will you tell me another story, Mr Goat Man?”

“I have a name, you know. You can call me Tiberius,” I suggested, my hand touching his shoulder.

Eugen pouted his lips, his long, ink lashes touching his stained cheeks. “Tiberius…” he tried.

“Alright, now let’s tell you a story.” I guided the boy to the outskirts of the forest, showing him every type of bird which circled the sky. The wind made it hard for them to fly, their wings flapping in vain.

The branches rattled above our heads, foreshadowing the storm. A lightning bolt split the ink sky in two, thunder following suit. Still holding Eugen’s shoulder, I felt him trembling from the noise.

With my mind, as soon as raindrops fell, I cast a shield over us, avoiding every unpleasant part of the storm.

“How about the story that everybody knows?” I suggested, taking my hand off his shoulder.

“Is it scary?” he inquired, his eyes watching the trees above us.

“Yes,” I whispered, the answer travelling in the wind.

He took a seat on the ground, dirt covering his white breeches. Crossing his legs, his ears were perked, and his hands barely stopped moving.

“It was the night of The Girls’ Fair, long before I took Ana and Andrei to join me. I watched how everyone danced and laughed, how they indulged in wine and food. Children were everywhere, running through the intertwined hands of their parents while they danced the hora. And that was the first time I felt…jealous of them.”

“What do you mean? Couldn’t you drink? Eat? Dance?” he asked, his eyes widening.

“No, Eugen, it was not that.” I shook my head, sitting next to him.

While I collected the words in my head, I looked at Ana’s old house. Smoke came from their horns; her family was already heating the house. How much she and I have changed in the past months.

Recollecting myself, I scratched my chin. “I was jealous of their heart.”

“You don’t have a heart?” His voice sounded mesmerised.

I shook my head slowly, thinking of all I had left behind that day. Images of the children I left orphaned that night played behind my eyes.

“No, in a way, it is traded for immortality.”

He nodded, understanding what my power meant. “But Ana, she still feels and acts as if she had one,” he countered, placing his hands over his chest.

My beautiful Ana. Still kind, still loving every breath she took, still believing in God.

“Her soul, besides what I made her do, is still hers. Just as it was before joining me.”

His eyes drank in the dark sky, the rain avoiding our little shield, creating puddles before us.

“Can you continue the story, Mr Go…Tiberius?” he asked, in a sweet voice.

I complied, my gaze shifting from him towards the centre of the village. “While everyone enjoyed themselves, I watched as the orchestra continued to play, the feet of people stomping the grass to the music’s rhythm. The green-eyed monster grew slowly, my eyes circling on the soul I should have taken that night. But a boy, no younger than you, came behind me and asked me who I was. I did not know my real name. Everything was a blur except my siblings’ bloodied faces. That image and the jealousy I felt cursed me to take more than one soul.”

“How many?” the boy asked, his head tilted, a frown on his forehead.

“Too many. Enough to turn half of my eyes blue,” I whispered, regretting that I left children to fend for themselves. A sin nobody could absolve me of.

Silence stretched between us as his hands finally calmed down. A sign he was thinking about my words.

“And now?” he whispered.

“What do you mean by that?”

He cleared his throat, his eyes almost bulging from their sockets. “Do you still feel jealousy towards people?”

I sighed, not sure about the answer.

It didn’t occupy my mind as often as it did. Not since Ana stepped foot into my lair, swirling around Andrei and me and gaining us with her wit, questions and purity. Though the wish to be like them still existed, just for an undeniable reason.

“Yes, but only for one thing,” I answered truthfully. “To have a heart, to feel love. The other things like money, houses and lands pale in front of love.”

“That means you care about Ana?” the boy asked, a sheepish smile appearing on his lips.

It was much more than simple care. It felt as if I could lay the sun and the moon at her feet and protect her from every evil in this world.

Including me.

“So yes,” the boy concluded, seeing my undecided eyes.

I stood up, brushing dirt from my pants.

“You’re a smart boy, so keep your mouth shut until I know for sure,” I said, my tone harsher.

He squinted his eyes at me. “If you hold these feelings inside you, you might burst. And if it doesn’t get your way…”

The wisdom of this child surprised me.

“What do you want to say, Eugen?” I offered a hand to him.

He placed his small palm against mine, hoisting himself up. With a strong voice and hard eyes, he laid what was in my mind, but unspoken.

“Perhaps living so much time surrounded by death made you forget what life feels like.”

I took a deep breath and followed him home, the storm long gone. In its stead came the cold, autumn settling for good.

The feelings for her were more powerful than the Order itself. She knew the whole of me, as no one could. And even if the child had some truth to his words, I was not sure Ana would listen to my feelings.

There was a battle both within her soul and outside the lair.

Ana

The seventh soul

“This one will be difficult,” Tiberius said, his voice gruffer than usual.

I was still getting used to calling him by his birth name. From time to time, the ethereal name would slip from my lips, earning a mischievous gaze from him.

The month of Brumărel was passing by, the rain getting colder, the trees were losing their green crowns, giving way to voidness.

“Why?” I asked, watching as drops of water fell from our scythes.

“Because he doesn’t think he is evil…”

I turned my head to him, a question in my eyes.

“He thinks that what he is doing is righteous, that he is saving the people who work for him. But in fact, he enslaves them.”

“Eugen’s mother thought she was doing the right thing by killing him,” I argued, not fully understanding where he wanted to go with that idea.

“True, the difference here is that the mother of Eugen knew what she was doing was bad, like all the other five souls you took, and against the law. But this one sends the people to slow murder.”

A factory lay in front of us, horns and pipes surrounding the building. As shown in the Mirror, people of every age, from young children to older men, worked day and night between brick walls. Tubes and packages were daily delivered by large trucks and burly men, all of them looking angry, frowns darkening their faces.

Some of those depicted worry, many hours of work under precarious conditions so they could have food on the table. Others were filled with fear that they were not doing enough for their families.

And some were, by nature, angry.

Scrawny men came to unload the shipment, unable to hold the pipes properly. Another man, taller than all the others, towering over them, barked orders left and right.

“He reminds me of you,” I mocked, hinting with my head towards the man in question.

“That joke of yours almost made me smile, my lady,” he said flatly.

The corners of my mouth lifted, remembering his arms around me. How he kept me under his protection on the day of the baptism, how slowly he became a better person.

Even with Eugen, he behaved properly. The boy was curious about all the morbid stories Tiberius had to tell. And as a goader, the man loved to voice his experiences.

The sound of the trucks leaving drew my attention.

“Ready, Stag Woman?” he asked, his tone amused.

I nodded and transported myself to the main office I had seen before in the Mirror.

I left my skull at home. How odd it was to call his lair ‘my home’ after all these months?

Smiling to myself, I realised that the skull did nothing for me or for Tiberius anymore. Once I was over this damned contract, and if we found a way from this curse, I would break that wretched mass of bones and burn it with a laugh on my lips.

The lingering smell of tobacco was making my stomach sick.

“Who are you?” the man sitting at a desk asked, his eyebrows raised.

He was not fazed by the fact that I was carrying a scythe in one of my hands, not even my eyes frightened him.

He saw this before.

“I am here to collect your soul,” I stated, my head held high.

The office he stood in was not large by any means. In the middle of the room was a desk with a wooden chair on which his filthy body was slumped. It was filled to the brim with papers left unattended. A small cupboard stood in the faraway corner of the room. And a window overlooked the morning shift at the plant.

He chuckled, his beard jumping. “Someone else tried this joke before. I am not doing anything evil here.”

“What about all these people suffering from the work in the factory?”

He stood up, his round glasses falling from the bridge of his nose. “These people have a paid job, food on the table and shelter. What more can they want?”

“You truly believe that having food on the table would suffice from the meagre wages you give them?”

“What else would?” He stomped his cigarette on the floor.

“Happiness,” I answered, my hand becoming numb on the scythe.

He started laughing, his hands grabbing his stomach.

When he finally stopped, he eyed me with a frown before his eyebrows. “Happiness does not exist. It is an illusion. Money... money is real.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I stepped closer to him, seeing clearly that he would step over bodies to get his purpose.

“And making that money on the back of hard-working people brings you happiness?” I leaned my head on my shoulder, eyeing his big belly. “Do you think that they are healthy while fulfilling their duties?”

I leaned my palms on the desk, my eyes brighter from the lamp.

Snatching my scythe and pressing it on his neck and drawing blood, fear intruded into the man’s eyes. “I am not just a Soul Ripper. I still have my soul intact, despite the swirls in my eyes.” Cutting deep into his vein, crimson stained his collar.

I left his limp body fallen on the chair, my mind conjuring money to rain in the shop floor. As much money as the people working in the factory needed.

“A worthy price to pay,” Tiberius said when I joined him.

The rain finally stopped, the sun barely scraping the sky.

Nodding, I turned to him. “Who was the Ripper who visited the first time?”

“I was.”

“And you let him live?” My eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, I had an appointment on the Găina Hill,” he winked at me, a smirk appearing on his lips.

I couldn’t stop smiling, even though I just came from taking my seventh soul.

For the last few days, we spent searching for a way out of the contract, and we concluded that there was none. I had to take all of the souls in the short span of two months. Or else, who knew what the Elk had in store for us.

Biting my cheek, I held in the words that kept me up last night. Feeling my inner turmoil, Tiberius stepped closer to me. His scent soothed the thoughts I had. I took a deep breath and turned to him. There were questions in his eyes that needed answers. That only I possessed.

“You showed me the places you hold dear to your heart,” I said, and he answered with a nod. “I want to show you mine.”

I took his hand, its warmth giving me the courage to move further. For the first time since I gained powers, I travelled us to my favourite place in this small world.

The cold air pushed my lungs, and in the next second, my feet touched the grass of the hill that overlooked my village.

I was with my sister the last time I climbed this hill and watched the sunrise. Right in front of us stood the church of the village. The holy place where my parents got married and where Angelica and I were baptised. It was over three hundred years old and was built when we knew of no king. Priest Neagu organised a restoration ten years ago. He hired painters to depict St Mihail and Gavril as they were the patrons of the church.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, releasing my hand.

I looked at him, sending daggers with my eyes.

“Oh, right. I am sorry about that!” He dipped his chin, watching me through his lashes.

“I brought you here to see the place I felt most comfortable in my entire life,” I said, taking a seat on the wet grass. My eyes travelled briefly to my house, but shaking my head, I returned my attention to the church. “There I ran either alone or with Angelica, to hide.” I swallowed, not moving my gaze. “When she was little, I used to take her away to this same field. But soon, she understood why we were running.”

Tiberius sat next to me, his eyes on my cheek, his fingers brushing mine.

“Priest Neagu tried talking to my father, but he never listened. After all this time, I realised that my father would let all of us go to church, because the sermon was at the same time as he had to meet with his drunk fellows.” I pulled my knees to my chest. “The thing is that the love of God not only gave me hope, but it also gave me comfort. I had something of mine, where I could hide.”

I blinked, freeing some of the tears gathered in my eyes. “My mum, of course, was mine and Angelica’s support during those times, but she was alone in doing so. I tended to her wounds multiple times. She blamed herself every time Angelica or I was hit. In the end, we were too afraid to leave.”

Swallowing, I wiped my tears. “You have to understand, Tiberius, the love for God kept me afloat.”

We stood, listening to the bells of the church ringing, as if they were calling for me. I dreamt of spending the most important events of my life in that church. Now, I could only dream from afar.

“And yet, you’re there.”

He took a deep breath, which reached my skin. “Where am I?”

“In my soul, in my mind, in every breath I take. You’re there to hold my hand and make me smile and feel as if I were worth anything.”

“Ana,” he said and kneeled for the second time in front of me, “you deserve everything pure and golden in this world. If I see that, with all my wrongdoings, you need to see it too.” He took my hand in his, kissing my knuckles. “I might not understand the deep adoration you feel for your god because I had none. But you made me believe in something other than my own selfish purpose.”

“And that is?” I whispered, leaning closer to him.

“Love.”

I thought I stopped breathing for a few moments. Besides my mum and my sister, nobody else told me that they loved me. And I was sure not to expect it from anyone else. Let alone the eternal Goat Man. My eyes roamed over his face in search of the mockery, but I had found only the purest feeling of them all. I knew the same resided in my soul for him.

“I know it is difficult to accept that a man who destroyed your life might nurture feelings for any beings other than himself,” he whispered. “And I know you said that I had a place in your heart.” He made me stand by tugging my hand gently. His fingers found my chin and brushed it. “I do not want your whole soul, inimă, I only want to be a part of your journey on this Earth as you’ll be part of mine.”

My eyes closed, imagining that I could have it all. I just needed to let my walls come down. At least to taste what could possibly be.

“I said to you that I don’t think myself pure anymore,” I whispered, lifting my eyes to him. “And that is because you are in my soul as well as God is. Nights, I stood and pondered if this was my path. Maybe God steered all the men at the Girls’ Fairs away. He must have known that I would meet you. And you made me feel and see so much in the last months.” I took a deep breath, my eyes searching his. “You were never my darkness, Tiberius.”

“But you were always my light, inimă. I knew from the moment I uttered that word that maybe someday, I would have one.”

We stared at each other, letting our eyes speak.

“Will I ever kiss you, Ana?”

As I pressed my lips lightly to his, a part of me flourished. The taste of him was unique, made just for me. My eyes closed to capture the moment better.

His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. My hands flew to his neck, my fingers curling around his dark locks. I didn’t need to breathe; he would give me his air if I needed it. His lips moved one inch, opening mine, giving way to possibility. An endless abyss I would lose myself in.

I loved every second of it, and I wanted more.

So much more.

I felt as if we became one while our lips searched, tasted and found themselves.

He broke the kiss, my lips feeling numb from his loss. “We really need to get back. Three souls still await you, and only two months are left,” he breathed.

He pulled me again for another searing kiss.

“And we still need to search for a way to get out of your mess,” I mumbled against his lips.

Nodding, he took my hand in his. “And afterwards, I promise you, Ana, I will be forever yours.”

I pressed my forehead to his, nose to nose, mouth over mouth. “And I will be yours, Tiberius.”

And with that promise, we kept on living.

The Goat Man

Ana was watching the sunrise, slumped on the patch of grass in front of the cave.

It was an image I wanted ingrained in my skin, to haunt me for the rest of my days. The sun cast its light over her dark locks, illuminating her skin and creating starlight over her naked legs.

The cold didn’t even try to bother her; no goosebumps covering her skin. A thin shawl with red and gold flowery motifs hugged her shoulders.

Next to her were some of the tomes she took from the library. I stood two nights without sleep to translate them for her. She read almost all of them and found out that the master of them all would have the power to disrupt the contract. Either that meant God or my brother. This left us with two options. We die, or… we die anyway.

“I miss them deeply, Tiberius! Sometimes, I would tap on the Mirror just to see their faces. As long as their smile filled the glass, I would be relieved. And as for my father… he is either hiding or he is dead.”

“He is hiding,” I stated, walking towards her. I stopped next to her, crouching down. “He is ashamed of himself.”

Her nose turned upwards, her voice softer than the sunlight. “How do you know that?”

“The last time I was in my…brother’s lair, I heard the whispers. They keep count of every soul any of us from the Order failed to rip. Your father is hiding from the Mirror.”

“So, I cannot see him?” she asked, looking at me.

“Or I.”

She moved her gaze again to her old family home.

We stood in pleasant silence. Slowly, her fingers intertwined with mine, the desire to take her away from all this flooding me.

“How many more souls, Tiberius?” she asked, placing her head on my shoulder.

She would ask me this every day. The question was like a clock, ticking in my brain.

Reminding me of all I’ve put her through.

“Three,” I whispered.

Three more souls, and I still have not found a way for her to become human.

My mistake and my selfish plan made me want to throw myself over the edge, without a skull, so I could feel the pain devastating my body and mind.

“And then?” she breathed, her warm breath touching my chest.

The answer to that inquiry was better left unspoken. She either died or I would be human, and she would be in eternity.

Reversing the roles.

“Master, can you not modify the contract?” Andrei asked, clearing the kitchen table with a rag.

Since Eugen joined us in my lair, Ana made a rule for everyone to eat only in the kitchen, unless serious illness. The three of us men bowed to her and agreed by saying Yes, my lady!

Ana walked into the kitchen with a warm smile on her lips. Just for me.

“I can only, if I ask my brother,” I responded, my eyes looking at a fixed point over the stove.

“Are you two talking about the contract?” Ana asked, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Yes. We are rummaging through our brains,” Andrei answered, throwing the rag away.

“Do you have one?” I asked with a smirk.

Both looked at me as if I threw them into the fire.

“Any luck?” Ana asked. She poured herself a cup of water. As soon as her lips touched the ceramic mug, images of them touching mine flew to my head. Rubbing my eyes, my burning thoughts were replaced with my brother.

He made me realise how selfish I was during all these centuries. How I took Ana and made her suffer just for my purposes.

My eyes focused on my inimă, who was watching me as though I was out of my mind.

“We are looking in the wrong place,” I said, jumping from my seat.

“Alright, I don’t know what has gotten into you,” Andrei shrugged.

But Ana was focused on my words. “What do you mean?”

“My brother wants to become a human to get his piece of land. And according to the Order’s lore, only a pure soul can eradicate evil by crushing the skull and taking the head. Seen any pure humans?”

“The child!” Andrei shouted, one finger in the air.

“How the devil could you suggest sending a child to end a powerful creature?” I retorted, a tightness settling over my chest.

“Andrei! Eugen can barely lift a haystack!” Ana shouted, placing the mug on the table with force.

“You are right,” the ghost nodded, placing a hand on his chin. “Well, master, if you had waited just a few more weeks, then maybe Ana could have done it.”

“No, I could not,” she said, raising her head. “I didn’t know back then how vile that creature is.”

“That is right. Ana wouldn’t have hurt a fly if there hadn’t been the contract gnawing at her.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it, apologising with my eyes.

“I will leave you boys,” she said, beaming again at me.

To think there was a time when I would ask myself if I could make her smile.

I shook my head; the same guilt I felt anytime I watched her collect a soul captured my senses. “She gets sick every time her scythe cuts.”

My hands grabbed the end of the table, pushing it forward, its legs squeaking on the stone. “I was such a fool, Andrei! There is no excuse for my behaviour. I took an innocent girl and smashed her dreams. She wanted a family of her own, her mother and sister to be at peace, and I came and wrecked everything.”

“It sounds like you’re in love.”

I jerked my head towards the ghost, his words crawling over my skin. The child said so too.

And they were right. What else could I name the feeling of my stomach turning when Ana had to take a soul, or how could I express the sensation of giddiness when she was in my arms? And what was with the happiness when I imagined the four of us in the house I bought?

Even without a heart, my mind took over all those feelings. Or, just as Ana, love can bring your soul back. Something precious to hold onto.

“Don’t you hide away as you do when you encounter difficult situations, Goat Man! I am quite fond of the woman,” the ghost warned.

I stood up, my feet walking towards the ghost. “Don’t worry, I plan to make her the master of my world, life and soul. And once I get my heart back, she will rule that too.” I turned to leave, but I halted in the middle of the kitchen. “I will say this once: I apologise for mistreating you, Andrei.”

I stomped out, pulling Ana from her room. She landed right into my arms, her gasp sending thrills through my body, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Goat Man, what do you need?” Her cheeks flushed at my scowl. “I wanted to teach Eugen to read. His mind might be bright, but he lacks skills.”

“I have an idea.”

I pulled her away and went to the library. Without a word, I got one of the tomes out. I flipped to the pages, the paper harsh against my skin. As my eyes found the passages, I read them out loud.

The master of all must die, while a contract is fulfilled.

The master of all must perish at the hands of a good entity. The kind that knows honesty from evil.

The master of all needs to have his skull upon death, their head swept away.

I raised my head to Ana, and she nodded.

As a smile broke over her lips, we realised that we had found our way out.

The eighth soul

The hoar-frost clung to our coats, skulls and scythes.

“Why don’t we go already?” Ana asked, eyeing the only window of a century-old building with a light on.

We were observing the apartment edifice since nightfall. The stars and moon were hidden by clouds, Brumar already blowing its winds.

“Just wait,” I whispered.

She huffed, impatience passing through her body. Her opinci were hitting the ground repeatedly, her eyes fixed on the lamp.

The city of Sibiu was sleeping, except for one woman.

When Ana tapped her Souls’ Mirror, a woman was presented to her, a teacher who had no intention of resigning from her school. She was notorious for beating children during classes, but as the principals did not care for the children or parents, she was still inflicting terror.

“I do not want to make it easy on her, Tiberius,” she mused, blowing three times in her chest, her fingers grazing her cross-patterned ie.

“I know you will not, inimă,” I smiled, watching the lady of my eternity.

The eighth soul’s house was glued to the Clock Tower, the sophisticated Roman numbers, letting us know that half of the night had already passed while we observed the woman creating her lesson plan.

Outside the Old Town of Sibiu was the house I acquired for myself. How a woman like Ana changed my view of life, so that I wanted to take the three of them with me.

I watched as the next soul threw her pen and notebooks on her desk and left the room.

“I’m going! She is at ease enough,” Ana announced, grabbing her floating scythe.

While Ana dealt with the woman, I had to run and pick up a surprise for her, the reason I delayed her ripping.

My steps were light on the wet cobblestones; the market stalls were assembled for the day. Some men were trying to lift the wooden tables from a truck, while others were unloading their merchandise. They were hollering at each other, oblivious to the sleepers.

The moon was hidden under heavy clouds, rain waiting its turn to wash up the dusty streets. The autumn was coming to an end, the icy air of the night cutting through the skin of the people mulling around the Old Town.

I stopped at a small shop across the Small Market, the colour of eggshells decorating its walls. My knuckles rapped three times, and a hunchbacked man opened the door.

“My order,” I demanded, “please!”

One memory of my rudeness came to mind.

“Asking people nicely won’t kill you, Goat!” Ana threw her hands in the air, her cheeks pink.

“Maybe physically not, dear woman, but it will definitely wound my image!” I retorted, anger rising high.

“What image? You are already the image of death. Nothing could be worse than that!”

I stepped in front of her, my nose grazing her forehead. “Are you sure?” My voice rasped on her skin, making her tremble.

It did not kill me, but why would I stretch the rope of my sullen mood and reputation?

A small package was placed in my hands, the deadpan voice of the man scraping my ears. “Whoever puts this on, they would wear it for the rest of their days.”

“As it is intended,” I said as parting words.

Back to the roof we stood before, I watched as my ripper angel smeared blood on the windows. She took her time with this one, crossing the Sixth Commandment for the eighth occasion.

Before going to Sibiu, we had a discussion about how she was able to care about two things in life.

Me and God.

God was light, and I was dark, and together we had a place in her soul. Painting her life grey.

“It’s done,” she said, a bit pale, standing before me, her white wool socks drenched in blood. “She won’t torment children anymore.”

She made her scythe disappear, taking her hair and braiding it quickly. A new blue swirl appeared, staining her eyes.

As it was the previous time, she didn’t free her stomach’s contents, but the paler colour of her skin worried me.

“I’ve got to show you something.” I squeezed the box in my palm, anxiety causing my pulse to quicken.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow shot up, her hand coming to rest on my arm.

Every word she had ever said to me was stuck in my mind like a prayer was to Ana. It was the perfect moment to show her what awaited when we would be free of the curse I’ve placed on our heads.

I whisked us out of there, leaving behind for a short time the lore that surrounded us.

Ana

The building we were looking at was situated near the Dumbrava Forest. A one-storey masonry house with a hipped roof, plastered with lime-sand mortar, the earthy colour bringing out its authenticity.

The border of its windows was painted white and blue. The porch’s wooden boards were coloured with the same shade as the frames.

“The Mirror did not show me this,” I stated, my eyes roaming over the name written on the house. It was a tradition to mark on the front of the building the founders and the year of construction.

“That is the name of the former owners. Let me fix it,” he said, one of his hands stretching in the air.

Instead of the old name, mine, his and Eugen’s appeared.

Ana, Tiberius, Eugen

“What is that?” I breathed, my pulse travelling faster in my body.

“I couldn’t arrive sooner at your baptism, because I was acquiring this house. For quite some time, I thought about adding you to the deed, which is already done. Eugen will inherit this after our passing. I cannot add Andrei on the deed, him being…already dead.”

My mouth opened and closed several times as his words registered. If I had had a heart, then it would have shattered.

Not wanting to have the wrong understanding, I asked, “Why did you add us?”

“Ana, after these months, I am certain I do not want to spend my humanity in solitude. And not only that, but I also want to spend it with you. And about Eugen, I am not sure if we could have children together. I don’t know what will happen when we reverse our forms. And…I care about him.”

I wanted to die and come back, just to make his dreams come true. I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes, feeling as though every part of me was ignited.

“I cannot put into words the feelings that overwhelm me, Tiberius. I cannot thank you enough for making my life a little bit more colourful.”

Tiberius pushed me lightly off him, his eyes burning into mine. “I’ve wronged you so many times, treated you beneath my level. I don’t know if you will ever forgive me entirely. Alas, my feelings, even without a heart, changed. I denied them for many reasons, but I want my heart, when it finds its place back into my chest, to beat again for you. And in this house, to create the family you always wanted.”

With those words out of his lips, his strong arms hugged my waist, pulling me close to him. “Do you wish to step into my dream?” His voice was shaking, like he was uncertain about what to do or say. I nodded and kissed his cold cheeks.

I took his hand and pushed the large wooden gate, noticing some chipped paint which I would gladly redo.

The yard was enough for me to grow flowers and vegetables. My soul warmed at the future we could have here. I swirled to him, his words replaying in my mind. “You want to have children?”

“I would like to have as many as you want, because they are a bigger challenge than taking souls,” he said, opening the main door to the house.

Laughter filled the air. “I sure hope our children will give you white locks.”

“If I could age, I would probably be covered in white-grey hair already,” he mumbled. As we entered the house, round, large candles ignited from thin air.

No furniture adorned the floors and walls, but I could already picture the bedroom, Eugen’s room and the kitchen.

In every chamber, there was a terracotta fireplace and candles. The walls were still grey, not being painted, but I would take care of that. My steps were faltering; the hairs on my body raised as I stepped further into the house.

It was a dream come true.

Tiberius stared into my eyes, which were beginning to be watery. He took my face in his palms, kissing my forehead. “I promise you, Ana! I will get you out of the hole I’ve dug you.” His whispers caressed my skin, torching my chest with feelings unknown to me.

“And how will you do that?” I sighed on his lips, the want in me growing.

I took his coat off his shoulders with my trembling fingers, sounding deafening as it fell to the floor.

“One more soul to take, Ana, and perhaps we can be free,” he murmured as he kissed my ear, sending shivers through my body.

“How?” I breathed, shaking my coat off. My mind was not immersed in the discussion, but on his hands, mouth and skin.

His fingers touched my waist lightly, drawing circles on my sensitive skin.

“Do you think my brother would just let me free of the skull?” He kissed my nose, then my mouth briefly, leaving me with the desire. “No, he would cross both of us. I believe I have found a way of destroying him.” His eyes roamed over my figure, his cheeks getting redder. “I need to consult with you first.”

“But…” I started, the burning of his touch on my lower back fogging my brain.

He kissed my lips, pulling a moan from me. Tiberius grabbed me by my waist and placed me on the floor, the cold seeping through my clothes, forgetting all about our discussion.

I turned, straddling his hips, his arm breaking the contact with my skin to rip the ie. With one hand, he held my body, the other touching my breast.

His mouth covered my sensitive skin from my chest, my head leaning back in pleasure. My hips moved of their own accord, his lips trailing kisses on my neck, leaving me breathless. I pressed my fingers on his shoulders, the desire growing and growing.

I bit the skin of his neck, and he pulled me towards him, hard. He then turned me on my back, making me his.

The feelings multiplied by the second; the blood ran through my veins faster. The desire to hold me, to touch me, to make love to me was granted in our future house, under the rainy sky of Brumar.

If I had a heart, it would be his.

The abyss which contained us was exploding around us.

Held in his embrace, I did not feel the cold from our world. Thunder rolled in the sky, sending a shard of light from time to time. His hands tightened around my waist, his lips touching my shoulders lightly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his deep voice making me want more. More of him, more time with him, a life with him.

“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes tracking the droplets of rain on the window.

“Surely?” He sounded worried.

I turned my head upwards, kissing his lips as hard as I could, to assure him that he did not wreck my body. His fingers intertwined with mine, a feeling of safety enveloping me.

We watched together as the rain poured outside, the sound filling the space between us.

“You were saying something about your brother,” I said, remembering the dark cloud over our happiness. “You needed to talk to me about something?” My brows knitted as I placed his hand over my stomach.

“Yes, that,” he grunted as he supported his back on the pile of our clothes. “His desire is to turn himself human, but only after he kills me.”

I squeezed his hand. “That won’t happen,” I said, my eyes hard on the dark sky.

If the Elk were to kill him, the master would become the sole heir. Only if the Elk were still alive.

“You’re so sure of that, inimă,” he chuckled, his fingers twirling my hair. “Why is that?”

“We can kill him before the last soul.”

It was so silent in the room that I could hear the wheels of his mind working. I snuggled closer to his body to feel his chest against mine. The droplets of water hit the window, resembling tears, but as soon as they hit the edge of the frame, they turned into ice.

“I knew you were smart,” he mumbled into my hair, after he planted a kiss on top of my head.

“Maybe now, but not at the beginning.”

“You will hold my selfish self against me every day for the rest of our lives, right?”

“Yes,” I admitted. But I couldn’t hide my smile. Not when my soul was filled. I thanked God for that feeling which was lost for me.

“Let’s plot our next move in the morning. I want this night to be ours,” he said, standing and offering his hand to me. “I have something to give you.”

“You have already given me a life beyond death, Tiberius.” I linked my fingers with his and rose to full height, raising my eyebrows.

He tugged my fingers, walking towards the place where we left our cloaks, draping them over our shoulders as we walked. He took a small dark box from his pocket, then, turning to me, he held it open.

I didn’t know if the house was shaking or his hands were the ones who continued to shudder. All of a sudden, the candles flickered harder.

“The jeweller told me that whoever wears this ring will have to wear it forever.” His sentence was more of a question than a proposition.

A ring. With a black diamond in which flames' reflection bobbed. The sophisticated rose carving was holding the diamond gracefully.

“Ana,” Tiberius said, taking a step towards me, my mind reeling, “with this ring, I mark my promise to get both of us out of this eternity. If you accept it, we will thrive in life and death. Because without you and your pure soul, even in the afterlife, I would not breathe.”

I stretched my hand to him, nodding once, words escaping me. He pushed slowly the ring on my finger, the immense feelings I had for the man in front of me, overwhelming me.

My eyes filled with tears, the newfound happiness setting heavy on my chest.

“I…if I hadn’t offered my soul to you, I wouldn’t have found the love I feel every day, every second. Yes, you dug my hole, but you jumped in it too. And somehow, my dear Tiberius, we will crawl back to the sun and air, and we will live the life we wrote with blood, screams and death.” I stepped closer to him, my eyes watching his own tears falling.

His hands captured my face, hunger crossing his eyes, his lips whispering on my lips, undying words. “I love you, Ana, my strong, beautiful woman.”

And the night was ours.

Where no one touched us with scythes or resentful words. Where there were no families, no skulls or masks.

It was only us.

The peasant and the Goat Man.

The Stag Woman and Eternity.

Ana and Tiberius.

The Goat Man

Undrea hit our doors with the first snow. The large snowflakes fell fast, the snow layer making it harder for my horse to gallop.

Ana insisted on collecting the ninth soul on the first day of winter. A symbol of some sort. Therefore, she glided her fingers on her Mirror for the perfect soul. Once she found it, she ran outside, where Eugen and I were trying to build snowmen. If only the horse wouldn’t eat their heads.

“Shoo, horsey!” Eugen yelled, with his cheeks already pink.

“Let him be,” I said, gesturing around us, “there’s plenty of snow, and we can try again.”

I was already walking towards a new spot when Ana came to me. My eyes tracked the stomping of the woman who captured my mind, and my lips spread into a smile.

“I found him,” she announced, her gaze travelling to Eugen, who was collecting some branches meant to be the hands of the snowmen army.

“Where?” I asked, catching her waist.

Her hands flew to my neck, pulling me closer to her. As soon as our lips met, my pulse quickened, as it did every time I held Ana in my arms.

Only if the child wasn’t watching with disgust. “You two, please!”

Laughing, Ana broke the kiss and extracted her hands. “Săpânța, Maramureș,” she breathed, her eyes staying on my lips.

“Do you want to travel alone?” I asked, preparing one large ball of snow for the base of a snowman.

She pondered for a bit until Eugen was out of earshot. “Yes,” she stated, placing her hands in the apron’s pockets. “I would like that.”

I nodded, watching the child. “So be it. When do you leave?”

“This afternoon.”

I turned to her. She kept her eyes closed to hide her true feelings. My Ana by no means would speak so lightly about taking a soul. “Is something the matter?”

She shook her head, but the tremor in her hands told me otherwise. I let her be. I didn’t want to pressure her into giving me information that she didn’t want to share.

“Alright then,” I said, kissing her cheek.

“Tiberius.” Her voice shook, and it broke my soul. “We will be fine, right?” She swallowed, tears forming in her eyes. My hands grabbed her waist and gathered her to my chest.

“We will be more than fine. One more soul and we will take down the Elk,” I whispered in her midnight hair. My hands tightened around her because there were no words of comfort when the threat of dying was around us.

“Where are you going, Mr Goat Man?”

Whirling around from my dresser, my eyes fell on the boy munching on some jumări. My stomach recoiled immediately.

“You should eat some bread with those,” I suggested, picking up my cloak.

“It’s not done baking yet… but these are warm and freshly cut. Want some?” the child asked, coming inside the chamber. He stretched his hand and offered me a piece.

It was the time of the Ignat. When everybody cut their pigs and prepared the meat for the winter. Andrei made no exception, following each tradition even in death. I had no idea where he procured our meat from; he had his ways.

“No,” I shook my head and draped the cloak over my shoulders.

“Are you going after Ana?” Eugen asked, popping another piece in his mouth, the crunch of the fat making me jump.

“Yes, I am. Why?” I arched one eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you want her to deal alone with her ripping?”

I wanted that. But her demeanour from early morning placed many doubts in my head. As if something ominous was brewing. My hands stilled on my scythe.

“I want to come too.”

“No.” There was no other option. What if something happened and I couldn’t concentrate? What if the child were traumatised by Ana ripping a soul? She was already in a dubious place after taking so many lives.

Without a single word, I travelled myself to Maramureș. But as my body was circling in the air, my cloak got pulled.

“Ah!”

In that moment, a darkness took hold of me. I could have ended the child’s life, then my own. Eugen lay limp on the stone, holding the jumări for dear life. I ran to him, checking his pulse. Luckily, he landed in a pile of snow, but he could have fallen in the freshly dug grave next to it.

“Child! Have you gone mad?” I spoke in a harsh whisper, roaming my eyes over his body.

He opened his eyes. “I was bored! And shouting won’t change a thing!”

My fists clenched, and I looked around us. Dozens of colourful gravestones stood in the famous Cemetery of Săpânța, known as The Merry Cemetery. Bright colours from blue to yellow tinted the tombstones. On them were painted the people buried under, with cheerful expressions. It was the only cemetery which celebrated death.

In contrast with every other cemetery in Romania, Merry Cemetery’s luminosity brought the idea that the afterlife was a joy and not pain.

I helped the child get up; his hands clutched the piece of food. He looked around, his light eyebrows going up. “Oh my...” he breathed, examining a tombstone.

My eyes searched the cemetery for a woman wearing her long, ebony hair down with a bright, wool cloak with twisted chain stitches on the edges and her scythe, which would cut anyone’s skin. But in the sea of cheerful graves, I didn't notice anyone.

I took a step towards the exit of the cemetery when a glimmer caught my attention.

“Eugen,” I whispered, turning to him. The boy was trying to read who was laid to rest under a red painted cross. There were jokes written on it, and the boy tilted his head to read. “Stay down,” I warned, crouching next to him.

He listened, but his eyes were still focused on the cross.

The snow crunched under thick boots, and he walked towards the middle of the cemetery. A man who had an axe and a shovel advanced to the largest of the tombstones. Leaving his tools aside, he rubbed his hands and smiled. The man took off his sheepskin hat and his cojoc, throwing them in the snow.

His hands grabbed his shovel and started digging the dirt covered in snow. The man did not notice the woman who had her scythe ready to strike.

“Are you robbing graves, sir?” she asked, her head hidden by the cloak.

My pulse stilled as I took her in. She was out of this world, her purity shining from inside and out.

I almost didn’t notice the man turning and trying to hit her with the shovel. My hands twitched, trying not to jump to her aid. Eugen yelped next to me but bit his tongue. He clenched his fingers around my wrist, his eyes fixing on Ana.

She stopped the shovel with her scythe, her hood falling off her eyes. Surprised by what was hidden behind the fabric, the man fell to his knees.

“I’m sorry!” he whined, trying to touch Ana. She took a step behind, placing the scythe over his head. “I just wanted to sell their jewellery for money! For my family!”

“Liar! I know you do not have one,” Ana’s whisper travelled to us. “You gamble and throw money on carnal pleasures.”

She was about to decapitate the man when her body stilled.

At her hesitation, the man scurried away, leaving everything behind.

Just as another scythe appeared in the air, I travelled between her and the blade. Its wielder was not skilled and missed my chest, grazing my hand instead. With my mind, I sent the one who wore a deer skull to the grave before us. It thrashed when Ana passed her scythe right between its skull.

She came next to me, watching as the body of the member of the Order vanished. “Your brother sent him, didn’t he?” she asked, gripping my hand.

“Most likely.”

Small steps pushing the snow away made us turn our heads. Eugen was still eating those damned jumări as his eyes strayed from us to the grave. “It looks like you need another soul.”

Before, I might have choked him in fury; now, I only wished to let the winter swallow his words.

“He is trying to stop us,” Ana observed, watching me. “If he wants you to be human, why would he stop me?”

My hand found hers, and I intertwined our fingers. “Perhaps he wants to jest with us.”

“To make us desperate,” she whispered. Her eyes moved to Eugen. “You should have brought at least some bread with you, sweetheart.” A warm smile spread over her lips, and love for the boy was written in her eyes.

“That is what Tiberius said too, but it was not done yet.” Eugen shrugged, shoving the last piece of fat in his mouth.

“Sure, but if your stomach hurts, we need to call for that old woman from my village.” Ana winked, knowing that Eugen did not like the old crone.

“It’s time to return,” I said, holding both in my arms.

Ana looked me in the eyes as she wrapped her hand around my waist, a single tear falling on her cheek. With her free hand, she grabbed the boy’s shoulder.

Once we arrived at the lair, the smell of fresh bread reached my nostrils, pulling Eugen towards the kitchen, his hunger not satiated.

I followed Ana to her room. In the past weeks, she slept in my bed, leaving her old chamber for Eugen.

“Why were you worried this morning?” I asked, taking off my coat.

She turned to me, her ie dampened from sweat. “About happenings like this,” Ana sighed, and braided her hair in quick moves. “I have the feeling that the next soul I choose will be either hard to take or the Elk will pull a stunt like today.”

“Are you afraid that you cannot take it?”

“Yes. But mostly, I would like to delay it,” she whispered. At my raised eyebrows, she stepped closer to me. “If I take the remaining soul, we won’t have time to spend together. We will need to act fast.”

I tilted my head. “Ana, I assume we can sleep before our impending death,” I joked, but there was no humour left in my voice.

Turning around, her eyes were shimmering. “Promise me that we won’t die, Tiberius! Now that I have my own family, I would like to raise it.”

“I promise, inimă. I will stand before all of you and shelter you from my brother's wrath.”

“I found him,” Ana gasped, the steam from the bath I drew her diminished my vision of the Mirror.

“Who is it?” I asked, wiping her back with a cloth.

Heavy silence fell between us. Her head moved closer to the Mirror, its gold frame shining from the candlelight.

Taking a deep breath, she finally whispered her answer. “My father…” Her head turned to me, questions in her eyes.

I took the Mirror from her hands, seeing the man I was supposed to rip. In the image, he was using his remaining hand to beat Ana’s mother, ripping her clothes off.

Ana darted out of the bath, water dripping in her wake, running to her chamber.

Once I reached her room, she was already gone.

Besides her gold embroidered cloak, her skull was missing, too. Her scythe was nowhere to be seen either.

“What is happening, Tibi?” the child asked, rubbing his eyes from sleep.

His izmene were too baggy for him, and his shirt was making him look like a stuffed sack with feet.

“Go back to sleep, child!” I demanded, taking my skull with me and leaving through my chamber’s hole.

“Tibi!” he yelled after me, halting from mounting my stallion.

I turned to both the ghost and Eugen, watching me with worry, their faces pulled in similar frowns.

“Will she return to us?” the child asked, his voice small.

“I don’t know,” I said back, a lump in my neck.

I saw no light at the end of this tunnel for Ana.

The same yard I watched months ago stood before my eyes. The livestock was already asleep as I stepped into the vegetable garden, covered by thick snow and dirt.

In the months since I had met Ana, her family’s house turned into shambles, piss and dirt everywhere. The rooftop had holes in it, and the stables were almost falling on the animals that slept soundly in them.

There were broken windows here and there, the beauty of the house long gone.

From what I’ve gathered from my Mirror, Ana’s sister was still living with her parents, the wedding with her betrothed, Gavril, delayed by her family’s situation. He did try to take Angelica and her mother away, but Anghel, Ana’s father, threatened to burn every crop Gavril’s family owned.

“I saved him for nothing,” Ana whispered, standing in front of the main door, her muscles clenched and her tears melting the snow at her feet.

The dress she was wearing was wet at the seams, the dark cherry blossoms that decorated it hidden.

Her words haunted the space and my mind. My lungs stretched at the realisation that her sacrifice could be in vain.

“His blood runs through my veins, Tiberius! How can I take him?”

I knew that the moment she said who the ninth soul was.

“We will find another one, Ana! I missed some souls, too. There will be others to claim,” I tried to reassure her, but to no effect.

“We are running out of time, Tiberius! If we do not have the ninth soul by the middle of Undrea, then we won’t have time to get the last one…”

I knew that. But also, I was aware that she could not rip her father’s soul.

“Ana, let’s go home,” I pleaded, touching her arm lightly.

“Whenever I looked in the Mirror, I saw them smiling. My father was nowhere to be seen. Why is that?”

Her voice broke.

“I have no clear answer, inimă. It is possible that you did not see their smiles faltering, or tears falling on their cheeks?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to believe that I did them a service. I sacrificed myself because he was the only one who could support them with money, and in our country, there is not much a woman can do in these times.”

Ana took a few steps towards the stables, her shoulders shaking.

“Ana… you are bargaining with yourself now,” I whispered.

She whirled around, her cheeks sparkling from tears. I rushed to her, kissing her face, nose, eyes, and mouth, and pulled her into an embrace.

“I will be here if you need me, inimă.” I turned her around, her cloak brushing the snow at our feet. I just hoped she had the strength in her to do it.

Ana

The ninth soul

The snow stopped.

I dragged my empty feet and wet hair over my parents’ yard, Tiberius’s eyes following me as I drew circles in the snow with the scythe.

I was right. The Elk must have sent the images with my father, just to tease us. To see if I was able to take the life of the man who gave it to me. I crossed my hand over my eyes, pinching the skin.

My mind couldn’t focus on even one happy memory with my father.

I hoped that he would be better as he saw the Goat Man and lived to tell the story. My family most likely thought I died. Yet, I was alive in a way I never was before. No regret lingered for the pact with the man who found a way to kill the Elk, to grant us freedom.

My lips were chapped, covered by blood, as I looked at my mum’s face, before the kitchen window, wrapped in all sorts of wools and shawls to keep her warm.

I took a step towards the house; my arms were numb from squeezing the scythe.

The smell of sarmale filled the air, turning my stomach upside down.

“ILEANA!”

My mother’s name, shouted in my father’s voice, drew my attention to the next window.

His face appeared behind the broken glass, my mother wincing with her eyes closed. The wooden door opened with a thump; my father’s hand was prepared to slap my mum over her head.

Her scream jolted me to my cruel reality. I had the means to protect them now.

I gripped the scythe harder, my feet climbing the stairs of the porch. Swallowing and then taking shallow breaths, I pushed the door open.

My father’s hand was above my mother’s head, Angelica cowering behind the door, tears falling down her face. Both of my parents were stunned as I walked into the steamy room, my mother’s eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“Who are you?” my father thundered, the smell of țuică infecting the air.

“You do not recognise your eldest daughter, Father?” I bit into the last word, my scythe gleaming in the candlelight.

“You are not of my blood! A daughter of mine would not turn to the devil!” he screamed, stumbling forward.

Instead of helping him, I retreated, letting him fall. His nose broke on contact with the cream tiles. The cracking of his bone should have had some impact on me, but the sound slowed down my racing pulse.

“If you two do not want to see what I am about to do, please, get out!”

My eyes moved from my mum to my sister; their faces covered in bruises.

“Is it really you, Ana?” my mother whispered, and my blood quickened.

I nodded as her eyes filled with tears. My sister grabbed our mother by the shoulders, pushing her out the door. Before closing it, Angelica threw me a look, her brows furrowed.

“You cursed women!” my father yelled, climbing to his knees, spit coming out of his mouth and blood flowing from his nostrils.

Circling him, I noticed the wound that the Goat Man had caused. Uneven edges were left in place of the arm, the pink skin still healing. I pushed my scythe into it, drawing blood.

My father screamed, the sound exhilarating, something to keep in mind whenever I thought of him.

“I believed I saved all of you by offering myself to the Goat Man. I believed you would not turn viler than you already are, Father,” I whispered, my voice travelling over the walls of the kitchen. The clay plates rattled, some of them falling to the ground.

“How did you become this? You slept with him, didn’t you? Whore!”

His words burned my skin and hurt more than any beatings from him.

“And if I did, what care have you?” I said in a low tone, making him wince. “I believed you would be gentler to your own flesh and blood.”

He puffed, then his smug face turned to me. “They do not deserve anything from me.”

“From you?” A hollow laugh escaped me, foreign even to myself. “They don’t, because you have nothing to offer, Father!”

I slammed my scythe into his other hand, cutting it to the bone. The sound coming from him was not human anymore.

More blood than I had seen on any of my recent ripped souls came from his wound, staining his stitched shirt.

“Because of you, Father, I do not have a heart anymore! And you know what?” I shouted over his limp body.

He fell again to the floor, this time hitting his head, a third wound opening in his forehead.

“It is better that I do not have one, otherwise I would not have done that!” A diabolical smile bloomed on my lips, a poison I welcomed with open arms.

My scythe touched my father’s body again, this time taking his legs.

“Ana…” I heard Tiberius’s voice crawling on my legs, my chest and my mind. “Do not cross the edge to the dark side, inimă. Remember yourself! Don’t let your power overthrow you.”

My father’s severed members stained the tiles, blood seeping through the cuts. I kicked one leg out of my way, ignoring my father’s howling.

The child within hungered for vengeance, eager to see my father consumed by oblivion.

But Tiberius was right…If I crossed the path to evil, I wouldn’t be able to love anymore. If I tortured my father the way my child self would want, I would not be Ana. I would be the Stag Woman.

“I thought I saved them from you…”

At the last moment, the scythe – my weapon, my friend – sank into his chest and freed the heart that had never known how to love.

The ninth swirl joined its siblings.

I should have let my man take my father with him.

But then, the Goat Man would not have been my future, Eugen would not have been saved. And I would not have found love.

Tiberius cleaned the kitchen while I went to talk with my sister and mother.

I fell at their feet, and through sobs, I told them how sorry I was for leaving them without any help. I gnawed at their aprons, my nails digging into the fabric.

“I’m so sorry I left you,” I cried, my breath coming in short breaks.

My damp hair was caressed by a warm hand, the smell of food familiar to me. My mum took my teary face in her hands, her thumbs wiping the pain away, just as she did when I was a child.

“Ana, you tried to do your best to save our family,” she whispered, her kind eyes and soul caressing mine. “I endured this life for you and Angelica, and I would endure a thousand more. Because you are my light that shines over all the sins. You and your sister are the air that I breathe.”

Angelica placed a hand over my head, a smile growing on her lips. “You’re back, and that is all that matters, Ana,” she hushed, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges.

I cried in their arms all night, missing the women they could have been and embracing the women they will become.

Without a shadow on their life.

The Goat Man

I watched enthralled all night as the three women found each other again. Despite all her suffering, Ana made it back to light and was able to enjoy her mother’s embrace and her sister’s smile. Slowly but surely, Ana would have her heart again.

Stained by my selfish desires, but she would have one nonetheless.

Leaving them be, I turned around and advanced slowly through the snow. Sending her skull back to our home with just a thought, my feet carried me away from the ninth soul.

I breathed the Undrea air; the scent of wood and firs clung to my coat and hair. The air’s sharp edge cut my skin, numbing it. For the first time, I felt the cold seeping through my body. It must be the contract, which slowly enabled me to have human reactions. Something I did not realise until then.

Perhaps due to this contract, I felt more than hatred and dislike towards humans. It could be that because of this piece of yellow paper, I acquired the undying feeling of love. It was a lost sentiment for many years.

I rushed to the lair to confirm my suspicions, dashing through the kitchen.

“Andrei,” I called, but the ghost did not appear. I took one of the ignited candles that he must have used that morning and touched the flame with my fingers. The burn was rejuvenating, my eyes widening at the red mark it left on my skin.

I threw the candle away, extinguishing it in the process. My feet ran to my chamber to tap my cracked Souls’ Mirror.

One tap.

Nothing.

Two taps.

Nothing.

The happiness I felt was exhilarating. And then I stopped, hearing something I missed. I pressed my hand to my chest, the vibration coming from it pounded my hand, moving it up and down.

“It is not there yet,” an ominous voice spoke. It travelled over the rock, the sound stealing my euphoria and replacing it with dread. “It is an illusion.”

The Elk’s laughter froze my hand on my chest, the blood stopping its course through my body.

“What do you want?” I growled through my teeth.

I saw one of his antlers’ shadows on the stone walls, a nightmare coming alive. His hooves clacked on the floor, their sound filling me with rage.

He was here to destroy me. To break every dream Ana and I allowed ourselves to have.

“You relished your skull for good, brother,” he whispered, stopping in front of me.

I leaned my head closer, assessing him. His coat was ripped at the bottom; his fur lost its glimmer, and somehow, he’d managed to break one of his antlers. “What happened, older brother? Got dragged through the dirt?”

“None of your concern!” he hissed, his voice making the bed and Mirror tremble.

Chuckling, I took off my cloak and threw it on the floor. “What can I do for you, heir of sheep?”

A guttural sound came from his neck, rattling once more the Mirror.

“You’re right, I am the heir! Thus, if you become human, then you will receive what belongs to me, and I cannot have it, little brother.”

The threat blocked the smile on my lips. And then, I was aware of the silence. The ghost didn’t make an appearance, and Eugen should have come to my chamber by now, his curious mind making him question every little sound.

“Where are they?” I asked, my tone low and filled with bitterness.

“Finally, you ask. They are in my lair, guarded by my whisperers. Guarded is an understatement, of course.”

“What did you do to them?” I shouted, the Mirror almost falling, balancing from side to side on the wall.

“Don’t get hasty, I did not do anything to them…yet.”

It was his turn to chuckle, the skull moving as his chest puffed. I was sick to my stomach, and for the first time, I truly wanted to end him, but not then. I had to wait for the right moment.

And as I did not have a pure soul…

“So, tell me, brother, how do you expect any of us to claim something that probably disappeared? Perhaps there are new owners to that land, the sheep’s bones have already decayed, and the house is already in shambles.”

“You would know that?” His tone hinted at something that I would rather lock up and keep safe.

“Yes, I have visited the old house, if that is what you are insinuating.”

“Ah, and that was the moment you trusted your whore?”

I dashed to him, my arm pinning his neck, his skull almost coming out of his head. My other hand punched his chest, squeezing whatever he had inside, a gurgling sound filling the air.

“Do. Not. Talk. About. Her! Do not mention her name with your soiled mouth. She is above us all!” My voice was low, my lips too close to the bone. “You’re nothing more than a speck in front of her!”

He pushed me to the opposite wall, my back hitting the stone.

“Are you certain?” he said, malice ingrained in his voice. He arranged his cloak and skull to fit and strutted to me. Its hooves tapped against my head. “You need to be proud, brother; you corrupted her in killing nine humans. What does that say about her? She does not seem to be pure anymore. Especially not after she killed her own father!”

His skull was in my face, darkness watching me. I slammed my hand on it, sending my brother onto the wooden table, breaking it under his weight.

“You and your cult made her this way! The contract pulled at her and took and took. By the time I realised it was the vilest thing I could do, she had already ripped the souls of three people!”

I stood up, watching my brother crawl. He was stumbling to regain his posture. Something was off with him. The Elk did not seem to be that almighty anymore.

“Do your knees hurt, Elk? Are your bones aching with the weight of years?” My eyebrows raised, and a smirk appeared on my lips, my foot stomping on his stomach.

A shuddering breath left his mouth, but he pushed me with his mind into the Mirror as retaliation, ruining it. Shards of glass covered my skin, the prickling feeling filtering to my bones.

“You deserve to die, little brother! Your sins are beyond counting!”

I took a piece of glass, the blue swirls from my eyes receding, leaving a pure colour behind. “Sins that YOU made me commit!” I threw the shards of glass at him, specks of blood coming alive through his cape.

“I’ll see to it that her love never reaches you, not in life, nor in death!”

“I already have it! Her love is more powerful than any of your whisperers or commands, brother! But you will never understand that, since you killed everyone who felt something pure for you!”

He roared, and the room turned dark, taking me with him.

“Master, wake up!”

My eyes snapped open, but in the darkness that surrounded me, I couldn’t discern a thing. Pain echoed between my temples, creating a haze in my thoughts.

“Master!” someone shouted on my right, making me wince.

“Andrei?” I whispered, my palms searching the ghost. Once I hit something sticky and a howl of pain crossed my ears, I knew I had found him.

“What happened?” he whispered, his form creating a swoosh in the dark space.

Aware that there might be whisperers, I kept my mouth shut.

“Master, please, answer me!” the ghost whined.

“Where is the child?” I asked instead, hoping that my brother did not do anything to him.

“Asleep,” Andrei answered, his voice shaking.

At least he was oblivious to what was happening.

An idea sparked in my head. “Andrei, you can get out of here, can’t you?” I suggested.

“Yes… I just didn’t want to leave Eugen all by himself.”

“Go! And bring her,” I gave my last command to him.

Neither of us knew if I would come out of this alive.

“Andrei, one more thing,” I called, the pain in my head throbbing.

I felt a light breeze on my cheek, a sign that he had not left yet.

“Thank you for serving me over the past year,” I said, a tear falling down my cheek, the fact that I wouldn’t come alive from this, feeling more vivid by the second.

“It was my pleasure, Tiberius,” he whispered, and then he left, Eugen and me alone in the dark, the whisperers crawling closer to us.

Ana

“Who was that man, Ana?”

My mother watched me like a hawk since Tiberius left. I stood up from my old bed, looking at both her and Angelica. As soon as I stepped into the room, bloodied and relieved, they placed my former attire on the bed.

I complied and changed into a cotton ie, its sleeves as puffy as the clouds of summer, zigzag-patterned stitched all the way to my shoulder, and laced on the fota with the same pattern. Angelica insisted on braiding my hair, pulling it into a crown at the top of my head.

It started snowing, fresh flakes laying a new blanket on the ground. I would have to travel home using my power.

I took a deep breath. “That man is the Goat Man. The one you were so afraid of last summer. A man who crossed the threshold of his own curse to get to me, to understand my belief in God. He is the man I love, Mother.”

“Will you marry him?” Angelica asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling.

“One day, yes. Once we’ll be rid of his brother.”

And then I told them what was really happening. I spoke about the Elk and his wish to get his land, and about Eugen and the love I had for that child. I omitted the part about Andrei; I didn’t want to give them a heart attack.

“And what of you?” I turned to Angelica. Her face brightened, and her cheeks turned crimson. “Is your wedding day coming soon?”

She exhaled loudly. “At last, yes. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve a glimmer of happiness. Gavril is waiting for quite some time to whisk me away from home.” Angelica beams at me, her eyes showing me all the love she carries for her betrothed.

“Oh!” my mum exclaimed. “Let me show you her wedding attire.” She ran out of the room as soon as she finished talking. Angelica giggled, a rare sound coming from her.

In a couple of seconds, she returned with an ie and an apron. The blouse had longer, flowing sleeves adorned with golden embroidery. The apron was fully golden and with the same tiny sun pattern as the ie. “These were delivered in the night you left…”

“And I assume it was your betrothed,” Angelica smiled.

“Why is that?” I asked, touching the fabric of the apron.

“He left this.” Angelica walked to her bed and picked up a small paper where only a red waxed seal stood. A goat.

My pulse quickened, and I bit my lip.

Both were gliding with happiness in our old room. Sorrow forgotten, sighs relinquished, tears dried.

It was tradition to have a year of mourning for my father, and we had to convince our mum to keep it this time, otherwise the people in the village might talk. She didn’t care; she was happy that her pain was gone.

She felt liberated not hearing screams the next morning, being able to cook in silence, or at least hearing our chatter. My mum decided that she would cook for the villagers and sell the crops; she wouldn’t have time for them anyway.

Our mum would accept Mara’s husband's proposal to cater to the parish in the neighbouring village.

They both asked me how I feel, and I told them that I was elated. Finally, I had the life that I wanted – a man who loved me, an adopted child who would grow to be an incredible person and a ghost who cared for us in many ways.

I finally found what I have been looking for.

One soul to take.

One soul until our freedom.

One soul until we could build our life together as humans.

When I arrived at the cave, the trees were still heavy under the burden of the snow, their branches inclined to the ground. Here and there, an owl would ask who was walking in the forest. I smiled as I imagined I would sleep that night in the arms of the man that I loved.

How ironic that he would call me inimă, when neither of us possessed one. And still, we felt as if we had it.

When I approached the lair, the horse was waiting for me, its long, braided mane jumping up and down. It would shake its head, steam coming from its snout.

I pressed my hand to its forehead, the wind raising my skirt. “What is it, boy?”

He neighed once, rattling the ground, and I dashed inside the lair, my pulse vibrating in my veins, a dire feeling creeping in my bones.

The stone walls were silent, the floor not trampled by small feet or hooves. There was no noise coming from the kitchen, no delicacies filling the air with their scent. My chamber was void of a small boy sleeping between the blankets, usually a soft snore coming from him.

Tiberius’s room was left in shambles. The Souls’ Mirror was broken, shards everywhere, pinching my feet. I didn’t care about them or the blood they drew; I only cared about the empty room, the cloak left on the floor, and the blood dripped onto the carpet.

Did they die, and could I have saved them?

I fell to my knees, taking his cloak in my hands and pressing it to my nose. Instead of iron, it smelled of ancient paper and wax. Ignoring the tears that were falling from my eyes, I took one larger piece of glass and tapped it.

It didn’t work. I tried again and again and again.

Not one image.

I squeezed it hard in my palm, the crimson liquid falling to my wrists.

It had to be the Elk who came. No one else could overpower Tiberius. No one else wanted him gone from this Earth.

My feet rushed to the horse, my body passing through something goo-like. When I turned my head, I saw Andrei floating in the hall, his eyes rolling in his head.

“Andrei!” I shouted, his body stopped moving, and his eyes focused on me.

“Woman! Oh, I am so glad you are here!” he whined, grabbing my arms and squeezing them hard.

Ignoring the pain and the slimy sensation, I hardened my eyes. “Are they alive?” I asked, my voice wobbling.

“Yes.”

“Then it is time to collect my tenth soul,” I stated, my shoulders straightening.

Just to confirm my suspicions, I took my Mirror and tapped once. The Elk's skull appeared, overlooking the vast lands his family had. All because of some piece of dirt which nobody will ever take care of.

I threw the Mirror away, the sound of it breaking echoing on the walls. My feet rushed to the stallion, and I climbed it, praying that we would succeed.

Calling my skull to me, I bent over to the horse’s ears.

“Take me to your master! Go as the wind so you can save him one more time.”

It rushed through mud and snow, through forest and wind, through dirt and dust to get to the Goat Man. Its hooves hit the broken branches as if they were nothing but air, my pulse jumping in the same tune. The birds flew from their nests, announcing death, feathers falling from their tiny bodies.

“Be careful, Ana! You need to surprise him! The whisperers who tell him everything; they roam in the walls and floors. Their voice is heard by him at any second. And if something is off, they will alert him,” Andrei warned.

I slid down the horse, eyeing the cave. “And how could we go inside if they are everywhere?”

The second I mouthed the words, the stallion strutted to me.

“Thank you for helping my family and me. Thank you for easing this journey in this world.” It snorted once in response.

Its dark eyes looked as if they wanted to speak. My hand stretched and touched its mane. After leaving my hand stranded in the air, the stallion galloped to the wall of the cave and started pounding his back hooves on it. Without a last look at me or the ghost, it darted into the forest.

The slams rattled the cave. Shadow figures broke the rock and followed the stallion into the dark forest.

Inky shadows flew past us, ignoring me and the ghost, breaking the tall trees into splinters, mixing with dead leaves and small animals, leaving mayhem behind.

“Well… looks like this horse isn’t just a beast,” the ghost whispered.

Murky clouds covered the sky as another wave of snow fell. The wind started to break through, and the splinters lifted by it. A chill ripped through my body. The garments I wore were thick enough, but the breeze turned into a full storm.

I tried to listen to any other sound, searching for the neigh of the fearless stallion. But instead of that, hooves clacked in the distance. My eyes found it at the end of the forest. Its body relaxed and slumped in the snow. Waiting.

“I’m going to save our family,” I whispered in the wind, but more to myself.

The Goat Man

The tenth soul

I held the child in my arms as he slept. He was restless in his sleep, whispers calling for his mother, begging her to leave him alone. Eugen jerked his head as if he had been slapped, breaking my mind, and the wish to kill that woman myself slipped into my veins.

Placing his head on my lap, I did something I never did, not even when I was human.

I prayed.

Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.

I asked him for her to be able to arrive safely, for her to be happy even if I perish, to save the boy and raise him as she would raise her children.

I prayed for her family to give her guidance for her future. And I prayed for her to finally find her peace.

Closing my eyes and stilling for a second, I listened to the boy’s breathing, which was calmer now. I placed my hand on his chest to feel his heart beating, the thumps moving my palm.

“Goat Man, you’ll finally see your long-lost family.”

The eerie voice travelled to my ears. My head snapped to the ceiling, where white dots appeared, but they had nothing pristine in them. The whisperers roamed the stony surface from one corner to the other, pulsing with each word that left them.

“She will never love you, Goat Man. You’re too despicable to be loved.”

I turned to the left, where other voices crept in the walls. If they didn’t know what they were, I would associate them with fireflies. Their words were meant to sting. And if I didn’t trust the woman who made room for me in her soul, I would lean towards their voices.

“I hope you die soon, Goat Man. Your life is nothing.”

It was nothing.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled the boy closer to me. His breath touched my chest. I exhaled as silently as I could, so as not to disrupt his sleep.

The clacking of hooves replaced the murmur of the whisperers, the air getting staler.

“Brother, come to meet your end!” the Elk asked, the voice muffled due to the skull.

I felt invisible arms dragging me across the room, the child still immersed in slumber. My naked feet were dragged on the rocks, stubbing my toes against them and making them bleed.

As my body was pushed by threads, I felt my hands burning. Flames caught my fingers, spreading to my arms. The scream that tore through my neck was unheard by the Elk and his whisperers. No one could help.

The flames jumped from my fingers to my chest, in the place where a heart should be. My clothes were ablaze, the smell of burnt meat reaching my nostrils, vomit pulling in my mouth. At one point, I didn’t even know if the screams came from me or they came from the Elk. Before closing my eyes, I saw his skull raised to the ceiling.

Specks of ice rained from above, putting out the flames. My throat opened in muted misery with a scream that would never be heard by others.

“Don’t die just yet, brother.”

His words pulled my eyes open. A giddiness touched my anguished soul as all the burns and blisters disappeared from my skin. The Elk wanted me whole to break me for good.

This time, the light of candles flooded his rooms, with the hallway being the longest of all. It felt endless, not knowing how long we walked. His hooves were echoing in the eerie silence.

“I thought we were eternal, my brother,” I jeered, remembering his sayings when I was first turned into this creature.

His laughter broke the silence, scratching my ears. “And you believed that?”

The chamber we entered felt like hell, sweat gathering at my temples and upper lip. There was a wooden throne sitting in the middle of the room, with candles surrounding it. One gust of wind and the throne would be engulfed in flames. The rest of the room was clustered with darkness; nothing beyond the seat could be seen.

The light shimmered over the glossy stone wall, snuffing out the breathable air.

The Elk turned to the left, my body carried behind him.

His hand slashed the air, and a deep cut appeared from my left shoulder to my abdomen. A scream stopped in my throat, the pain too much to bear. My wrists were held by the threads, my skin burning. Blood dripped down my legs, pooling around them. A whimper broke out of me, making the Elk laugh.

“Brother, do you know the saying: ‘Don’t put salt on the wound’?”

My eyes narrowed as two large raffia bags filled with the white ingredient came next to me. With my body thrashing, I tried to pull away from them, but the threads kept me in place. With invisible strength, the bags poured themselves on my body. It took everything in me not to give in to his satisfaction by screaming.

It stung, as if small needles were prickling my skin.

And then nothing. I breathed through the mending of my skin, looking the Elk straight into his eyes.

He took a seat on his throne, a king who crushed his family, one who wouldn’t care who died for his wishes to be accomplished.

The threads were cut, my body falling on the stone. “Nice room you have here, my brother,” I mocked, standing on my feet. “This is where I will meet my end?” I raised my eyebrows, my eyes roaming over the room.

“Yes, is it not pleasant for you? I wanted to see you die. For centuries, I held you on my leash, and something made it snap.”

Ana… she made that possible. She awoke me from my daze.

Blades brushed my legs as if waiting.

“And instead of killing her, I want to kill you. I’m tired of your face, brother.”

The whisperers laughed in my ears, travelling from wall to wall, as if our lives were a joke to them.

Dozens of blades plunged into my thighs with such a force that their tips got on the other side of my leg. I scrunched my face, the veins in my neck ready to explode.

The pain subsided as the blades retreated.

“Speaking of faces, why don’t you show yours?” I said, panting. “I want to see the face of the man who will end my life.”

He sighed. “I will indulge this one request, brother.” My eyes tracked as his skull flew from his head to the base of the throne.

I didn’t recognise my oldest brother. His head was pointier from the shape of the skull; there was no hair left on his once rich head. Darkness lurked in his eyes; too many souls were swirling in them. His nose was round and filled with bloodied scratches, his lips were thinner than the threads holding my wrists. The Elk had a beard longer than the cloak he was still wearing.

But just as he got the skull off, he called it back.

“Satisfied, little brother?”

Shaking my head, I took my eyes off him. “What happened to you?”

The Elk chuckled, the sound turning my stomach. “Decay, brother. I want to be anew. Like you!”

His hoof tapped the handle of the throne once, twice. “Mother always said you were the prettiest, but I knew better. You were also foolish. Even now in death, you have fallen in love with a mortal.”

“Don’t speak of her!” I roared, the candles flickering.

He laughed, rattling the ground. “I see. Well,” he sighed, “most likely you’ll meet in death.”

Another set of blades cut through my skin.

“Why did you leave me alive in the first place?” I asked, taking a step towards the throne, wincing from the pain. I felt his eyes on me, following my legs.

“A reasonable question coming from you, at last.” He tilted his skull sideways. “I wanted to see you suffer, so that you cannot be a human anymore. But you found a damn loophole!” he raged, his skull shaking.

Several actually.

“Even if I don’t kill the peasant, the death of you and the child will drive her to insanity!”

“Leave them out of it!” I screamed, shaking the candles, hot wax dripping on the floor. “Your quarrel is with me!”

“That just makes it better!”

I barely caught my breath when I heard a whip coming down on my back, splitting the skin. The blood flowed on my spine, my stomach flipping. As if it wasn’t enough, the candles which were next to the throne burned my clothes and my body, the smell of charred meat filling the chamber.

“Shall I summon the child for you to see his final breath?” he yelled over my screams. “Would that end you?”

My hands touched the ground. I was shaking from my core, the scents making everything hazy. “No,” I whispered, preparing to die.

The Elk moved closer to my aching body. “Here lies my brother, former human, former Goat Man, now dust,” he whispered in my face, a scythe larger than mine, touching my neck.

The cave rattled once. Twice.

A swoosh replaced the whispers, and I knew my inimă was here. Thank God for the ghost and Ana for pulling me from my slumber before meeting her.

“Oh, the human is here!” the Elk announced, his head snapping to the entrance.

“You seem to forget I am not one anymore, Elk.” Her voice came from the darkness beyond the throne, warming every piece of my soul.

“That is right. Then, I shall make this interesting!”

My brother raised his hooves, and in the next second, the trembling voice of Eugen rose from the walls. It was everywhere and nowhere. I frowned. Something was not right.

“Help me, Ana!” the young voice begged.

Turning my head towards Ana’s stone figure, I noticed her hesitation. Her eyes pinned me, teeth sinking into her lips.

“Do you want to choose between the man who dragged you into this godless life and the boy who made your chest ache like a mother’s?” My brother was filled with poetry, but his mind was not so bright.

My eyes roamed over the room, but I couldn’t hear a whistle of breath or a heart beating that should belong to the child. Pain sizzled in my bones as the Elk sent the whip on my skin again. Gritting my teeth, I listened beyond the sounds.

Eugen was not here. The Elk was trying to make Ana doubt herself.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came. Therefore, I did what I could to show Ana that Eugen was not there.

With my remaining powers, I moved the candles next to the throne. Slowly, the splinters from the chair caught the movement of the flames, igniting entirely.

The Elk whirled, the air produced by his cloak, blazing the wood even more. His scythe lingered in the air as he tried to stop the blaze. I grabbed the weapon and cut through his knees, blood pouring over me, drenching my face.

My hand slipped. I lost balance and crashed chin-first onto the stone. A crack echoed through my skull, and pain blinded me. I closed my eyes, keeping the scream inside my chest. The Elk elevated my body and threw it on the rock floor.

From the fire emerged long horns, a skull more majestic than the rest of us, a lean figure covered by a crimson cloak, the heart I was missing.

“You created monsters, Elk. You shall die as one!”

Her scythe came down on the Elk’s neck, breaking the bone in half, small pieces floating to the fire. His head rolled to her legs, and she pushed it aside.

Ana pulled her skull off her face and rushed to my side, helping me stand.

“Come, Tiberius! We need to find Eugen!”

If I didn’t have that much pain in my body, I would have laughed and kissed her.

Her hand grabbed me by my arm and pulled me from the floor. With a grunt, I stepped away from the blazing throne. I walked from Ana to see my brother for one last time.

“I hope you’re free of your torment, brother.”

I pushed his limp body into the flames, a wide smile spreading on my lips. After I saw with my own eyes as his skull caught fire, I grabbed Ana and searched for the boy.

With the corner of my eye, I saw his sleeping form levitating, Andrei right behind him. I took all of them into my arms and travelled outside Elk's former lair.

Once we breathed the fresh air of the night, I watched as the flame engulfed everything.

“What is…,” Eugen’s sleepy voice broke the silence as the night was illuminated by the blaze.

A stag skull flew over my head directly into the fire. I turned to see Ana crying, tears of joy lingering on her cheeks. Rushing to her, I grabbed her shoulders and embraced her as if we were never apart.

My hand touched her chest, feeling the beat of her heart. She mirrored my action, her hand rising slowly with each thump. Laughter bubbled in my chest as if it were the first time I ever drew breath.

“I love you, Tiberius,” she whispered, her cheeks reddening.

“I love you too, Ana. My heart, my world, my soul!”

The contract was completed, my human form more elegant than what I was as an ancient creature. And the woman in my arms was more beautiful than any dusk or dawn.

Her icy blue eyes were sparkling from the tears, her hands flying to my neck.

I hugged her again, squeezing the boy between us. Andrei took all of us in his arms, and the cold sensation was welcomed.

Finally, I had my heart full of love.

Feet ran over the grass.

Two sisters and their betrothed.

Two were eternal beings, now mortals.

Two were always human.

Followed closely by one pair of mortal legs and a ghostly being.

The two above were hunted by smaller legs, one from the eternals, two from the always human.

One pair of knowing eyes, her tears forgotten, was watching her descendants dancing around the drizzled meadow.

There was a selfish man who loved a woman more than eternity itself.

There was a woman who loved a Soul Ripper more than her beliefs.

There was a child who lost an evil mother and found the parents he deserved.

There was a ghost who watched them all grow old, helping them in Heaven.

Because even the darkest selfish heart may find redemption through love.

Acknowledgements

“Souls We Rip” is inspired by my great – grandparents who lived in a small village in Romania. As you may have noticed, there are a few locations described in this book, and I hope I did them justice. For me, our traditions, customs and national clothes are important, as they are my roots. I wanted to put a part of my heritage in this story, and I hoped you liked it. Not many people outside my country know about the wonders of our traditions. And in every book I have written and will write, there will be a sprinkle of them.

Now, I would like to thank a few people for helping put this story out into the world:

Firstly, Lori, Lori, Lori, Lori, Lori! You have guided me into creating something I wanted to put out there for a very long time. Cheers to you!

Secondly, to Ann and her wonderful imagination! Only you can pull the best out of my ideas in your covers!

Thirdly to Delia for the beautiful map she created! Thank you so much for all your help!

To my family, without you, what would I have known about our traditions?

To my friends for being there for me from the beginning. You already know who you are!

To Beth and her team at Wings & Words, thank you so much for reading yet another of my books! You're wonderful!

To all my ARC readers, thank you for taking a chance on me!

And lastly, for the readers who gave me the courage to step into the light.

About the author

DMR is an author established in Romania who lives with her small family of four. She writes stories about tough subjects, loving and honing her craft. Usually, you can find her with a dark novel in her hands or a keyboard as she juggles the struggles of a 9-5.

You can find her on Instagram @dmrauthor.