Nevayi looked on fondly as her husband, Aviliyon, ran in circles with the younger of their two sons slung over his shoulders. They were making their way around the village shrine to Eviyra, a glorious monument to the Goddess of Beauty. Oil lamps were hung around the square, crisscrossing above them and bathing them in a golden glow that perfectly complemented the statue’s masterful carving. Families prayed while their children played. Stalls corralled the area, offering food, drink, and trinkets that had been carved as beautifully as the statue itself and blessed in its presence. Roaring fires placed between the stalls kept the chill of early winter at bay and, even as evening began to take hold, the place buzzed with activity.

Aviliyon let out a playful roar followed by a bout of mock-evil laughter as the boy he was carrying giggled hysterically, struggling to catch his breath as he bounced with each one of his father’s exaggerated steps. Behind them, with a look of fierce determination on his pale face, was their older son. The boys were aged eight and eleven, but from how they got along they may as well have been twins. The two of them did virtually everything together and the younger of the two looked up at his brother with an admiration most can scarcely imagine.

Their father began to slow, feigning exhaustion, and allowed his pursuer to steadily gain ground before the boy finally drew close enough, reached out one small hand, and grabbed his father’s tunic. He yanked back with all his strength and the man flew backward, deliberately stumbling enough for his human cargo to wriggle free and jump away before he collapsed in the dirt. Cheers and applause erupted from onlookers who had been cheering the boy on in his quest. The elder son immediately rushed forward and threw himself atop the man, striking his prisoner's chest with a flurry of blows. The cheers turned to laughter, slowly subsiding as the surrounding villagers went back about their business, sensing the show was over.

“I yield! I yield!” Aviliyon said, panting and raising his hands above himself in surrender.

But the boy didn’t stop. Laughing as his delighted brother clapped, urging him to continue, he pounded on the man’s chest with tiny fists.

“Try to steal my brother, would you?!” he said breathlessly.

“That’s enough,” Nevayi said, crouching down next to her son and placing a hand on his shoulder as he stopped and looked up at her with a confused look.

“If a man yields, we must not harm him any further,” she said before the boy could speak.

He glanced over at his brother and then down at his father before looking back up at her.

“Even if he tries to hurt our family?” he asked.

“Even then,” she replied, smiling. “If a man yields, he can be captured, then the Circle of Elders can decide his punishment.”

The boy looked back down at his father before nodding solemnly and climbing to his feet. He stuck a skinny arm out towards his father and when the man took it, he pulled back with all his might.

“You did the right thing, son,” Aviliyon said as he got to his feet and patted the dust from his clothes. “I’m proud of you. We protect our own, but your mother is right, it’s not up to us to dispense justice as we see fit.”

The boy looked up at him and beamed as his brother danced over to join them.

“Come, it’s getting cold,” Nevayi said with a slight shiver, “And it’s time for the two of you to get to bed. Let’s head home, it’s almost dark already.”

She turned to the statue and bowed her head respectfully.

“May Eviyra, great Goddess of Beauty, bless us and protect us as we sleep.”

The boys groaned but did as they were told. On the way back to their dwelling, the older boy walked with one arm protectively around his brother's shoulders, clinging tightly as if some new threat would appear and steal him away.

Nevayi walked with her arm snaked around Aviliyon’s back. She could feel the comforting warmth of his body as they made their way through the forest path and rested her head on his shoulder as his arm mirrored hers. They walked in peaceful silence, nodding and exchanging friendly smiles as they passed friends and neighbors.

Evening was Nevayi’s favorite time in the village. The glow of twilight paired with the oil lamps and torches that were hanging from the corners of roofs and sitting atop poles set in the ground lit the surrounding buildings to show their true beauty. Covering every wooden surface were intricate carvings that flowed into one another to create a jumble of stunning elegance.

As they reached the door to their own dwelling, she marveled at the work her husband had done all those years earlier. He had depicted the Goddess Eviyra in a dense forest surrounded by birch trees and animals of all kinds. It was utterly gorgeous, and, even now, she felt herself gasp in awe as Aviliyon peeled away from her and set about putting the children to bed.

While he took care of their sons, she busied herself around the common area, tidying up the day's mess until he finally emerged from the boys’ room.

“How are they?” she asked, stepping forward to meet him as he approached with outstretched arms.

“They were asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow,” he said with a smile.

“That will be all of the roasted pheasant you got for them in the square,” she said with a laugh. “I’m surprised they weren’t sick when you were running around with them out there.”

The two of them shared a laugh before relaxing into one another arms. Nevayi let out a contented sigh.

“I take it I won’t see you again until morning?” she asked, raising her head and resting her chin against his chest, staring lovingly into his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. But I’ll be thinking of you the entire time we’re apart and who knows, maybe I’ll be able to trade something nice for you with my winnings,” he said with a wink.

“Oh really?” she asked, pulling away from him with her eyebrows raised. “Well then, I’ll look forward to it. It would certainly be a nice change from the usual result.”

He laughed, pulling her back into his arms.

“I have a good feeling about tonight,” he said, and then pressed his lips against hers as she opened her mouth to give a smart reply.

By the time he pulled away she had completely forgotten her remark and was left blushing by the passion with which he’d kissed her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you,” he said as he backed out of the door.

“Love you too,” she called out, chuckling to herself as he disappeared from the doorway.

With Aviliyon off for the night to gamble with his friends, Nevayi peeked through the curtain that separated their sons' room. They were both sleeping soundly, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets to protect against the mild chill that had come with the arrival of winter earlier that week.

Seeing her boys wrapped up suddenly made her aware of their lack of a fire and she shivered as a draft of cool air flowed over the back of her neck, causing her spine to tingle and leaving her covered in goosebumps. Making her way back into the common room, she wrapped a colorful shawl around her shoulders and set to work building a modest fire, one just large enough to keep the chill at bay. As she did so, she hummed softly to herself.

Her humming was abruptly cut short as the beginnings of the fire she had been tending flickered and died as a chill swept over her. She looked over at the door, suddenly tense and half hoping to see it open to reveal Aviliyon’s kind face. But the door remained shut, and the bite of the draft passed as quickly as it had arrived.

After taking a deep breath, Nevayi smiled, she had grown too used to her husband’s company, she thought. Her idle mind was playing tricks on her with a lack of stimulation from her family. Reaching down, she returned her attention to the charred, smoking sticks that lay before her and set about bringing them to life once more.

This time the flames caught quickly and leapt up, their tongues hungrily devouring the dry logs she placed on top. When the fire was roaring, perhaps a little more than she had initially intended as the sudden cold had unsettled her, she went to fetch the lute Aviliyon had given her on the night of their wedding. Playing softly so as not to wake the children, she ran through a repertoire of different traditional Inya songs, basking in the warmth of the fire until her eyes began to sting and her fingers fumbled.

The fire burned down to smoldering embers and the early winter chill was beginning to creep back into the room. Not bothering to feed it another log or two, Nevayi carefully returned the lute to its case, which had also been handcarved by her husband, and sleepily made her way into her bedroom. As she pulled the thick curtain aside she was greeted with a rush of cool air and immediately regretted not drawing it aside earlier to let the warmth of the common room permeate through the dwelling. Fortunately, the thick woven quilt that covered the soft, wool-stuffed mattress would do wonders to warm her up in no time.

Slipping out of the red-striped beige dress she’d been wearing, Nevayi hopped into bed and sank into the mattress, pulling the quilt up to her neck as her body warmed the cool cloth. She’d opted not to wear a nightgown because she knew how warm the quilt was, it was made for the winter and had only emerged from the depths of their closet a few days ago. She may have put away the summer sheets a little too early this year, but the Circle of Elders had warned of a particularly brutal winter and Nevayi liked to be prepared. Her lack of nightwear also came with an ulterior motive, however. With two young boys, it was virtually impossible to get any time alone with her husband after all.

And so, Nevayi closed her eyes and relaxed into the warm embrace of her mattress, or at least, she tried to. While her eyes had been drooping by the fire, suddenly the severe feeling of unease returned, and her body went rigid and restless. After taking a precautionary glance around the dark room, she forced her eyes closed once more and apprehensively waited for sleep to take its hold.

In her dreams, Nevayi was being led by Aviliyon, a calloused hand clasped amiably over her eyes. She felt the kiss of grass tickle her feet with each step and somewhere in the distance heard the hoot of an owl. The air was warm around them. It was a pleasant, light warmth; the kind that accompanies a summer’s night after the sun has finally departed and long since sunk below the horizon.

Suddenly, she was brought to a gentle stop and her husband removed his hand so she could see. She was greeted with a view that left her breathless. Sprawling out before her was the scene from her wedding night. A small clearing enclosed by birch trees whose bark seemed to glow against the backdrop of the night’s darkness. There, leaning against the boulder and illuminated by a ray of white moonlight filtering in through the canopy behind them, was a polished wooden lute case. Nevayi raised her hands to cover her mouth as tears began to brim in her eyes. She took a step towards the boulder and heard Aviliyon’s soft chuckle as she made her way forward. When she was but a few paces away from the varnished wood, the warm evening atmosphere was interrupted by a sudden gust of freezing air. Aviliyon’s chuckle, deep and comforting, began to change in pitch, morphing until it was more of a screech than a laugh and quickly became a terrible, ear-piercing cackle.

Turning, she scanned the clearing for her husband but saw that he was nowhere to be found. Spinning around she began to run for the lute, desperate for the comfort and protection it would bring. She stopped short, the lute was gone. As she wheeled around, tears now streaming down her face, she watched as the white trees melted away until all that remained was darkness. Darkness and the horrifying cackle continued to build in volume until she was forced to clamp her hands over her ears in an effort to stop the searing pain building in them. It didn’t help.

Nevayi sank to her knees, sobbing, only to feel a great force building from below. The force exploded upwards, sending the terrified woman soaring before crashing down on a hard, black surface. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream for help or fight back. Instead, she found herself pinned down, helpless, blind, and alone.

Then she was back in her bedroom. The thick quilt had been ripped away and lay crumpled beside her on the mattress, and as she stared up with wide eyes that was when she saw him. A brutish man with the olive-colored skin of the Mano lay on top of her, violating her powerless body. He looked back at her, a cruel grin on his face and eyes that glinted in the darkness. Terrible, inhuman eyes that seemed to resemble those of a snake more than a man and glowed a deep gold. As he thrust he let out a low cackle.

Suddenly she could move again. Kicking and scratching at the brute above her with all her might she fought to free herself. But it was useless. She may have regained control of her body, but the man was twice her size and had a large hand pressed hard against her mouth. As her strength and burst of energy began to fade back into helplessness, Nevayi made a desperate swipe at the man's face, catching his right eye with her short nails and raking them downwards.

For a moment Nevayi saw his eyes change, briefly returning to those of a man. The hand covering her mouth slipped away and as the brute eyes flashed back to a deep gold, he did not put his hand back immediately. She screamed. She screamed as loud and as hard as she could. An ear-splitting scream that only made the man smirk.

There was a rustle and, suddenly, in the doorway, her sons appeared. She tried to scream again, to tell them to fetch help, but the man had now returned his hand to her face and all that came out was a muffled cry. Regardless, the younger of the two took off at a sprint, the sound of his screams echoing through the village. The older boy lunged towards his mother but was easily pushed aside as the man pulled away from Nevayi.

She scrambled away from him and her son, having recovered, leapt in front of her protectively. The man smiled that cruel smile once again and began to laugh that horrible, screeching laugh. Nevayi froze. Suddenly the cackle, the inhuman eyes, lingering coldness all made sense.

“It’s you...” she gasped.

That laugh, the laugh that storytellers always attempted to imitate and the chill that always accompanied it in their tales. She didn’t understand why a God would commit such a deed, but it had to be him: Teriyas, God of Creation. The God paused upon realizing his victim had recognized him, before shrieking with icy mirth once more.

“You can never tell…” he said, his voice as cold as his laugh.

And with that, he turned to run from the dwelling with a distinct lack of urgency.

Nevayi lay there for a moment, her body trembling as her son stood next to her, pale-faced and scared. At that moment, Aviliyon burst through the door and into the room, flanked by four of his friends.

“Where is he?” he said after taking in the scene before him.

“He… He ran.” Nevayi stuttered, struggling to stop the tremors that were now racking her body.

“The river,” Aviliyon said, turning to his friends. “He has to be heading back to the Mano village.”

A murmur of agreement rumbled through the group and they turned to leave. Aviliyon paused, then wrenched a huge axe from the wall and stormed out.

“Aviliyon, wait!” Nevayi said, stumbling out of the bed and wrapping her heavy blanket around her naked body before setting out on trembling legs after the group of angry men.

She caught up with them as they reached the riverbank and saw the intruder beginning to wade into the frigid water. She stopped some distance away and found herself hoping that he would escape for fear of what violence the God might unleash if her husband caught up to him.

As the man fled, the water just reaching his thighs and Aviliyon splashing after him, he stopped. Confused, Aviliyon stopped as well while the man shook violently for a moment before teetering and falling forward. Thinking the man was continuing on his escape, Aviliyon lunged after him, grabbing the back of the black tunic he was wearing and hauling him to the damp earth beside the water.

From her spot atop a low hill overlooking the river, Nevayi could hear the confused man crying, begging for mercy. His pleas grew in volume until soon he was screaming for help. The cries held none of the venom she had heard before, and she knew then that the sadistic God of Creation had left the mortal vessel.

Across the river, in the pale blue light of early morning, she saw shapes of Mano men moving on the other side of the river. One of the shapes took off, but quickly returned followed by more.

Roused by the intruder's screams for aid, the Mano people trickled from their village to the riverbank as Aviliyon, blinded by rage, beat the man with his fists and the butt of his axe. Nevayi called out her husband’s name, but her hoarse voice was lost behind the prisoner’s cries of pain. Something grabbed her leg, startling her, and she looked to find her sons clutching at her side, looking on at the scene unfolding below.

“Stop, please I beg you!” They heard the Mano man call between blows raining down upon him. “I yield! I yield! Please!”

Aviliyon brought his knee up into the man's chin, and he fell back onto the dirt, rocking from side to side and clutching at his jaw.

“It wasn’t me, I swear. Please, I yield,” the man said, his speech slurred and rasping as he choked on the blood running down his throat.

To Nevayi’s horror, Aviliyon slowly lifted the axe high above his head.

“Don’t do it,” Nevayi said quietly to herself. “Please don’t do it.”

As the sun crested over the horizon, lighting the riverbank with a brilliant golden hue as if the Gods themselves were calling attention to the act, Aviliyon brought his axe down, burying it into the man’s heaving chest.

For a moment there was silence. Both sides of the river looked on as if frozen in place by some godly force. Only for a moment. Then, with energy rooted in the tension brought on by the murder, the area exploded with activity. On the other side of the river, Nevayi could see the masses of Mano villagers swirling angrily, pointing and shouting.

Her side of the water was no different, she’d lost sight of her husband, swallowed up by the wave of people who had rushed forward, but she heard his voice, deep and commanding, if muffled by the confusion that now surrounded them. The tiny hands grasping her leg dug into her bruised flesh and she looked down to see her sons still staring out in the direction of their father.

“Back to the village, let’s go,” she said. She grabbed onto each of their hands and began pushing through the swarm of villagers pouring out to see what the commotion was about. As they went, she glanced back and her heart sank. Across the river, she glimpsed groups of angry men brandishing weapons that glinted in the sun. Behind them, being carried down the hill by even more men was a line of boats.

By the time Nevayi and her sons reached their dwelling, the Inya men had caught on to what was happening. People were running to fetch axes, pitchforks, and shovels, anything they could use to defend themselves against the imminent attack.

Nevayi knew it was hopeless. The Mano were stronger and better fighters. After what Aviliyon had done, the best they could hope for was a quick death. Unless they could run.

“Pack some clothes, warm clothes, as many as you can carry. I’ll come through to help in a moment,” she ordered and the boys obediently ran to their room to obey.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Nevayi rushed to her bedroom and pulled on a set of clothes before hastily grabbing a cloth sack and filling it with clothes for her and Aviliyon. Next, she ran into the kitchen and filled another bag with as much food as it could hold. Lastly, she laid the bags next to the door and went in to help the boys.

“Mommy?” the elder of her sons asked as they tightened the strings on their shoulder sacks, “Why did father keep hurting that man after he gave up?”

Nevayi froze, she hadn’t even thought about it.

“It’s complicated, darling, we can talk about it later,” she said hurriedly, pushing the problem aside in her mind to make room for the more pressing issues.

With travel sacks on their shoulders, Nevayi took a final look around the dwelling. Her eyes settled on the lute leaning against the far wall and as she forced herself to look away, she felt as though a piece of her was being left behind with it. Cautiously, she led the way out and into the village, the sound of weapons rang out from the direction of the river. Screams of pain and yells of triumph drowned one another out until all that remained was a terrible cacophony of anguish.

Shepherding the boys away from the noise, they came across the shrine to the deity Eviyra. Surrounding it were hundreds of women and children, huddled around the towering statue of the Goddess. Some knelt with their heads down, muttering prayers while others simply sat with blank, fearful faces.

“All of you, get up!” Nevayi called out, her voice shaking. “We need to get out of the village before it’s overrun,” she said, shaking the thought from her head.

Nobody moved. Instead, they looked to each other, hoping for someone else to speak up. No one did.

“Do you want to die?” Nevayi said, frustration seeping into her voice. “We cannot fight them. They are stronger and if you don’t follow me they will kill you.”

“We just need to pray for Eviyra to protect us, all will be fine,” a woman said, clambering to her feet, her knees cracking loudly.

Nevayi spun to see who had spoken and her heart dropped as she saw it had been one of the village's Circle of Elders. The mass of faces around her seemed to relax, and many simply bowed their heads and went back to their prayers. Nevayi was speechless. She opened her mouth to make one final attempt to convince them, but before she could speak the sound of clashing weapons rang out once again. The faces looked up, renewed terror in their eyes. Then, a voice rose above the rest. A voice Nevayi recognized, one that sent a wave of relief rushing over her.

“Retreat!” Aviliyon yelled, and after a moment he appeared at the mouth of one of the paths leading into the square. He looked around, bewildered at the sight of so many on their knees unmoving. His eyes caught his wife, noted her expression, and the bags slung across her back.

“Get up. Grab whatever supplies you can and run!” His voice was as hard as stone and the axe's bronze blade glinted in the firelight. Immediately, half of the crowd stood and began to fan out in every direction. “To the southern forest’s edge, follow me.”

He ran over to Nevayi and grabbed the bags from her back, tossing them over his shoulder and grasping their younger son's hand before taking off down the path. Behind him, men covered in blood filtered into the square. At first, they were Inya men, and the villagers who had yet to move stood in horror as they barreled past to follow Aviliyon.

Then came men they did not recognize. Men with fierce expressions and long bronze blades, men with olive-colored skin and hulking physiques. They poured into the sacred square, cutting down the unarmed villagers without prejudice. Nevayi screamed as a particularly large Mano man slashed wildly and a young couple fell to the ground, lifeless. Hearing her scream, the attacker turned to Nevayi and stalked forward, an angry grimace on his face. Then, Aviliyon was there. Leaping in front of them he lunged forward and drove his axe deep into the man’s throat, wrenching it back as the Mano slumped forward.

A splintering sound caught their attention, and they turned to see a group of Mano men hacking away at the statue of Eviyra.

Before she could react, Aviliyon was ushering her away and together, pulling their children behind them, they ran. Nevayi did not look back as the screams began. Instead, she stared at the back of her husband's blood-spattered tunic, fixing her gaze on him and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

They ran until their chests heaved with exhaustion, and then they ran some more. Only after they had left the edge of the forest behind them, did they then stop to rest. As Aviliyon turned, red-faced and struggling to catch his breath, Nevayi saw his eyes widen in horror. They seemed to glow an ominous red, and she could swear they were flickering.

As reality dawned on her, she turned to gaze over the treetops in the distance at the village they all called home, which now burned furiously. Occasional screams echoed through the burning village, interrupted only by the crashing of collapsing structures as their homes crumbled in the flames.

As the sun rose fully into the sky, Aviliyon ordered the surviving Inya to continue south. As they turned and began trudging further upwards on the hill, into the wide empty grasslands and away from the forest, Nevayi heard a strange sound that seemed to be carried by the wind across the landscape. Her face went pale and she stepped forward, grasping her husband's hand in her own.

The sound was that of a terrible, screeching laugh.