In the following days, Mnou and Esme frequently visited Ruth and Azra. To her immense relief, it seemed that her medicine was at least somewhat effective. Her new friend assured her that she felt much better. Mnou was hesitant to believe it, but had to admit that she did look rather fresh and healthy. That put her mind at ease.
One gloomy day, as both witches were returning from a visit, they noticed some commotion in a side alley. Shouting could be heard, and a few people even ran out into the main street. Curious villagers began peeking out of their windows, as such uproar was quite unusual in the village. One of the fleeing people noticed the witches, who, driven by the same curiosity, stood frozen in place, waiting to see what would happen. The man stumbled breathlessly toward them.
"You... you're witches, right?" he panted between breaths.
"Yes," Mnou replied.
"You... you have to... you have to go see it! It's... some kind of devilry or a curse! But surely, you'll know how to deal with it."
"Well, alright, but what is it?" she tried to get more information out of the man, but he was already jogging off toward the harbour. He called back over his shoulder:
"Oh, I'm not going back there, missy!"
The girls looked at each other. They couldn't hide their curiosity. It sounded like something truly unusual.
Devilry, huh? Mnou pondered the man's words as they briskly made their way toward the source of the commotion. Sure. It'll probably be just another superstitious nonsense. She tried to convince herself, but deep in her mind, a timid voice warned her. People wouldn't flee in panic if it was nothing. This seemed more serious. Instinctively, she pulled Esme closer by the sleeve. Esme looked at her in surprise.
"Do you think it could be dangerous?" the girl asked with a serious expression. "It's true, there's a strange tension in the air."
"You're right. It's like magic is leaking from somewhere. Like wind blowing through a crack in the rock. It's... like there's something here that shouldn't be." An unpleasant feeling washed over her. "Stay alert," she added.
"Yes, ma'am."
They emerged from the side alley. To their right was the back of the tavern, where unevenly scattered tables and benches sat abandoned. In summer, people would sit here often, but now the furniture was soaked with icy water and covered in leaves that had begun to rot. Another reason for the emptiness of this usually lively spot was the scene unfolding further down beneath the old linden tree.
Only two villagers remained, shouting at each other in panic, and from a distance, it looked like they were stabbing something in the ground with sharp stakes. Only when they got closer did Mnou realize that something at their feet was moving — or rather thrashing — flinging bits of soil everywhere. Then she heard a deep, unpleasant gurgling. A chill ran down her spine, and she gripped her staff tighter.
"What's going on here?" she called out to the villagers, now just a few steps away.
The men only dared glance at her briefly, then went back to focusing on the strange object. One of them answered, nonetheless.
"This ain't job for women. You better leave, it could be dangerous," he barked.
"We're witches," Mnou stated coolly, pushing the man aside so roughly he nearly fell. "I'll take a look myself."
She needed a moment to process what she was seeing, but even the first glance at the thing deeply unsettled her. Something was crawling out of the ground, writhing in the slimy, wet soil. It whimpered and gurgled, as if in immense agony — like the scraping of a jagged scythe against stone. A sharp, sweet stench of decaying flesh and dirty, wet fur filled the air. Her stomach churned. It was unclear what exactly the creature was, but it looked like an animal, probably a dog. Yet something about it was very wrong.
Esme gasped and instantly regretted it as the stench filled her lungs. She coughed and rasped, "M-Mistress, it looks like a corpse!"
She was right. Decaying flesh was peeling from yellow bones, which gradually revealed themselves bit by bit. Half the skull was already exposed, staring at them with hollow, black eye sockets.
"What on earth is this," Mnou whispered, covering her mouth to avoid inhaling more of the foul stench.
"We saw some movement under the tree from the tavern, so we came to check and found this beast. Mick's dead mutt came back to life. It's a bad sign, a real bad sign. I've never seen anything this vile. Die, you monster!" the man yelled.
Just then, the dog broke free and, with a screech, lunged forward. It landed directly on Mnou, knocking her over and causing her staff to fly from her hand. Her head hit a muddy puddle and water splashed into her face. She gasped, tasting the earthy, putrid mixture. Her hands shot up instinctively to catch the creature's jaw just before it reached her throat. Her fingers sank into the slimy flesh, quickly hitting bone. Pain shot through the back of her hand as hot blood dripped onto her face. She screamed in desperation. Her hand went numb, strength leaving her completely. She began to lose her grip, and the snapping jaws crept closer.
Suddenly she heard a loud bang. The weight lifted off her, and the creature's jaws were torn away, landing with a thud nearby.
She breathed heavily, grateful as fresh autumn air filled her lungs again. Her eyelids clamped shut — her face was covered in blood and mud. She heard hurried footsteps approaching.
"Master! Master!" Esme cried desperately, kneeling beside her and cradling her head. "Please, say something!"
"I'm... I'm alright," she managed to say, and with her apprentice's help, propped herself into a sitting position. She tried to wipe her eyelids with her hand but recoiled in pain the moment she touched her skin. She hadn't even realized her hand was injured. Now, with the adrenaline fading, a sharp pain set in.
"Wait, don't move, I'll clean you up," Esme blurted through tears, and quickly summoned a stream of water with her staff.
Cold water trickled down the witch's face as Esme gently wiped away the grime. When Mnou felt clean enough, she opened her mouth and began drinking to soothe her parched throat. At last, she opened her eyes. Her vision was filled with Esme's worried little face, which broke into a smile as she pulled her into a hug.
"Master! I was so scared! I thought it killed you!" she sobbed.
"Now now, I'm not dying on you," Mnou reassured her, returning the hug with her uninjured arm. Despite her calm tone, she knew how close she had come to death. Her body was still trembling uncontrollably.
After Mnou was treated and seated in the tavern with a cup of blackberry wine on the house, a crowd of villagers gathered around her. She told them what had happened, but Esme had to finish the story, as the mistress herself didn't recall the end. As she had suspected, it was Esme who had saved her, blasting the undead dog with a fiery spell — though she admitted she hesitated for a moment, fearing she might hurt her mistress. In the end, she had made the right decision. The dog's remains were still smouldering outside under strict village supervision.
The witches were showered with applause and praise and received a flask of cider and blackberry wine. The villagers begged them to stay the night at the inn or someone's house, but Mnou politely declined. She needed to be alone to sort through some troubling thoughts that were sprouting in her mind like stubborn weeds.
"Esme," she said on the way home.
"Yes? Are you alright? Do you want to rest?" the girl asked anxiously.
"No no, nothing like that. Just take off your hat."
Esme looked at her in confusion but complied, holding the hat in her hands and watching curiously. Mnou stepped closer and gently stroked her soft, straw-coloured hair. Esme's expression turned to pure surprise.
"Thank you. Thank you for saving me. And I want you to know that I'm very proud of you. Without you, I might not be here anymore."
Esme beamed and blushed, lowering her head and mumbling, "It was nothing. Just a simple fire spell." Still, it was obvious how much the praise meant to her.
For the rest of the way, they tried to talk about anything but the strange, haunting incident with the dog. Eventually, though, Esme couldn't hold it in.
"Master, what do you think it was?" She didn't need to clarify.
"Hard to say," Mnou replied vaguely, the question having plagued her all the way home.
"Someone must have raised that dog from dead right? Do you think there actually could be a necromancer on the island?"
"We can't rule it out completely, but it still seems a bit far-fetched." She paused, debating whether to voice the thought that had been tapping in her mind like a persistent woodpecker.
"It felt like I could sense... a soul in that dog," Esme said timidly. "Isn't that strange? Necromancers only control dead vessels. But... maybe I imagined it."
"No, you didn't. I felt it too," Mnou confirmed her theory, her brow furrowed with worry.
"And... and there was something else odd about that soul. It's kind of silly, and maybe I'm wrong, but it felt like..."
The mistress finished her sentence darkly: "...a soul of a human."