Beware of Kittens. [Day 8.1, 8.2]

Day 8.1: The Elk Hunt

I woke while it was still dark, the pub's interior illuminated only by the dying embers of last night's fire. The air was frigid—my breath formed clouds with each exhale. I'd left a window cracked open for Minnow as promised, and a small draft whistled through the gap, carrying a few snowflakes that danced in the dim light.

Stormy was curled into a tight ball on my domain-soil pile, her black fur barely visible in the pre-dawn darkness. As I stirred, she opened one milky eye, regarding me with what I'd come to interpret as sleepy indignation at being disturbed.

"Sorry," I whispered. "Early start today."

The kitten yawned, displaying needle-sharp teeth before stretching languidly, her claws kneading the soil. She seemed ready to accompany me on my hunt.

"Not today," I told her, scratching behind her ears. "You'd be visible to the elks as a zapping target, and I need every advantage I can get.”

“Mrrr,” she replied. She tilted her head, as if considering my words, then huffed and curled back into her ball.

I dressed quickly, pulling on extra layers of wool and white-fur to blend in better with the snowy landscape. I'd prepared thoroughly the night before, picking out serviceable iron-tipped arrows to exploit the crystal elks' weakness. A dozen arrows now filled the quiver strapped to my side.

The arbalest I'd taken from the village armory had been tensioned and oiled. It wasn't elegant, but it looked powerful enough to drive an iron bolt through a thick hide. Most importantly, I still had a substantial amount of my domain soil on the sled I'd used to hunt the Sirin. 

I strapped on the snowshoes.

A soft tapping at the window announced my guide's arrival. I opened it wider, and Minnow slipped inside, a shadow among shadows. In the pre-dawn darkness, the little nav was more ethereal than solid, its edges blurring into the gloom.

"Harbor-giver," it greeted me, voice barely audible above the whisper of the wind. "You are prepared for the hunt?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, checking my gear one final time. "Lead on, little ghost."

“I cannot hear you for in the night I am more spirit than flesh,” Minnow nodded, its black eyes glinting with reflected firelight. "But I presume that you are here and ready since the window opened for me. The crystal elks gather at the pond as the sky begins to pale. We must hurry to catch them unaware. Follow me."

With a final glance at Stormy, who had already fallen back asleep, I grasped the rope harness of my domain-laden sled and followed Minnow out into the darkness. The snowshoes made a soft crunching sound with each step as we traversed the ruined village, past collapsed houses and burned-out shells of buildings, remnants of lives interrupted by the dragon's wrath. The sled glided smoothly behind me, its runners making neat parallel tracks in the fresh snow.

The night was clear and bitterly cold, the stars overhead sharp points of light in the black vault of the sky. As we left the shelter of the village, the wind picked up, cutting through my layers of clothing with icy precision. I pulled my fur hood tighter, grateful for the well-insulated clothing I'd salvaged.

Minnow moved with silent grace, flitting from shadow to shadow like a piece of night given animation. It seemed barely affected by the cold, moving just ahead of me, occasionally pausing against white snow to ensure I followed.

"How much farther?" I asked after perhaps half an hour of pulling my sled through the snow as the first rays of sun started to break across the horizon. The snowshoes made the walking easier, but hauling my domain behind me was still taxing.

"Not far," Minnow replied, its voice carried back to me on the wind. "The frozen pond lies just beyond that ridge."

It pointed toward a low rise ahead, silhouetted against the gradually lightening eastern sky. The first hint of dawn was appearing—not yet light, but a lessening of the darkness, a promise of the sun to come.

"When we reach the ridge," Minnow continued, "we must move with great caution. The elks have keen hearing and will flee at the slightest unusual sound."

"What's the plan?" I whispered as we neared the ridge. "Just shoot them from a distance?"

Minnow's form rippled in what might have been a shrug. "The hunter must decide the method of the hunt. But I advise patience. The elks are wary creatures, always alert for danger. They take turns drinking while others stand guard."

We approached the ridge, and I secured my sled in a small copse of trees. I didn't want to risk the elks spotting it, and I needed to be more mobile for what came next. I removed my snowshoes, leaving them beside the sled, then dropped to my knees, crawling the final few meters to peer over the ridge top. Below us, a small valley opened up, at its center a frozen pond gleaming faintly in the pre-dawn light. A thin plume of steam rose from one corner of the pond—presumably the spring Minnow had mentioned, geothermal spring warmth preventing complete freezing.

And there, moving gracefully through the snow-covered meadow surrounding the pond, were the crystal elks. Even in the dim light, they were magnificent creatures. Larger than Earth deer, with powerful bodies covered in thick, silver-white fur that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. Their antlers were the most striking feature—elaborate racks that appeared to be carved from blue crystal, catching what little light there was and refracting it in mesmerizing patterns.

I counted six of them—two magnificent bulls with massive crystal antlers, three females with smaller but still impressive racks, and what appeared to be a half-grown youngster, its antlers just beginning to form.

"Pretty," I breathed, momentarily forgetting my purpose in coming here.

"Yes," Minnow agreed, its voice tinged with something like reverence. "They are Perun-blessed beasts, carriers of his lightning. Beautiful and deadly."

The elks moved with grace toward the steaming corner of the pond. One of the bulls took up position on a small rise, head raised, nostrils flaring as it scented the air. Its crystal antlers pulsed faintly, emitting a soft blue glow that intensified and faded in a rhythm reminiscent of breathing.

"The sentinel," Minnow whispered. "It watches while the others drink. When all have had their fill, they will switch places."

I observed the elks' behavior, formulating a plan. The sentinel bull was clearly the most dangerous—alert and positioned to have a clear view of its surroundings. The others, focused on drinking, might be more vulnerable, but they were also closer together. If I missed or merely wounded one, the entire herd would be alerted.

"I need to get closer," I decided. "And I need to separate one from the group."

Minnow's black eyes regarded me solemnly. "There is a depression in the ground to our right—an old streambed, now dry. It winds down toward the pond. You could use it for cover."

I nodded, studying the terrain. The streambed was barely visible, a subtle dip in the snow-covered ground, but it would provide some concealment as I approached.

"What about distracting them?" I asked. "Could you draw their attention while I move in?"

Minnow hesitated. "I could, but it would put me at great risk. The crystal elks can sense the nightborn, even when we move through shadow. Their antlers disrupt our passage between worlds and could erase me from existence in a single strike."

I hadn't considered that. "Very well, I won't risk you. I'll manage the approach on my own."

With agonizing slowness, I backed away from the ridge, then crawled to the streambed Minnow had indicated. Once there, I lowered myself into the shallow depression, lying flat on my stomach in the snow.

"I'll wait here," Minnow said. "The lightening sky weakens me. I cannot help with the hunt itself, but I will watch for other dangers and can warn you if another beast shows up."

I nodded my thanks, then began the painstaking process of inching my way toward the pond. The streambed provided minimal cover—barely deeper than my body's thickness, the top of my backpack almost exposed—but it was better than nothing. 

The cold seeped through my clothes as I crawled, snow working its way into my collar and sleeves. My fingers grew numb despite the fur-lined gloves, and my face stung from contact with the frozen ground. But I persisted, focusing on each movement, making it as fluid and silent as possible. Thankfully, my backpack domain-earth kept me somewhat warm.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only fifteen minutes, I'd covered about half the distance to the pond. I was now close enough to hear the soft sounds of the elks drinking—the gentle lapping of their tongues against the water, the occasional snort or stamp of a hoof and a hum of what sounded like electric current.

The sentinel bull remained vigilant, its massive head sweeping back and forth as it surveyed the surroundings. Its antlers glowed brighter now, pulsing with energy that made the hairs on my arms stand up beneath my layers of clothing. I could feel a subtle electric charge in the air, like the moment before a lightning strike.

I wound the two arbalests with painfully slow movements, ensuring no sudden motion would catch the sentinel's eye. Without the full connection to my domain sled, I could feel the familiar creep of fatigue and hunger dancing at the edges of my mind, but I pushed the sensations aside. 

Now I faced a crucial decision—which elk to target? The sentinel bull would be the most dangerous if alerted but was also isolated from the others. If I could bring it down with a single shot, I might have a chance to retreat before the rest of the herd reacted.

On the other hand, the younger elk would be more vulnerable, its developing antlers less capable of channeling lethal lightning. But it stood surrounded by the others, making a clean shot more difficult.

I decided on the sentinel. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I raised the arbalest, aligning the crude sight with the elk's chest, just behind its foreleg where I hoped its heart would be. The animal was perhaps thirty meters away now—within range, but far enough that accuracy would be challenging.

Just as I prepared to squeeze the trigger, the elk raised its head sharply, nostrils flaring. It had caught my scent. The crystalline antlers flared with sudden, intense blue light, and the beast turned its head directly toward my hiding place.

There was no time for perfect aim now. I squeezed the trigger, feeling the arbalest's powerful spring release. The bolt flew true, striking the elk in its chest with a solid thunk that carried clearly in the still morning air.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. The elk reared back, its front legs pawing at the air as a strangled bellow escaped its throat. The blue glow of its antlers intensified to blinding brightness, then flickered erratically, like a malfunctioning light bulb.

The iron was working, disrupting the creature's magical energy just as Minnow had said it would. But the elk wasn't dead—far from it. It staggered sideways, shaking its massive head as if trying to clear it, then focused on me again with frightening intensity.

The rest of the herd reacted instantly to their sentinel's distress. The other bull's antlers flared to life, and the females herded the youngster away from the pond. The elks with the exception of the iron-struck bull bounded toward the cover of the distant treeline with surprising speed.

The wounded sentinel lowered its head, pointing those disrupted but still dangerous antlers directly at me. Sparks of blue electricity arced between the crystal tines, gathering for a strike.

It would take too long to reload the first arbalest. I grabbed the second arbalest out just as the elk charged. Its hooves thundered against the frozen ground, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed.

I fired again, the bolt striking the charging beast in the throat. 

A flash of blinding lightning struck from its antlers, igniting a tree beside me. 

The elk stumbled, its front legs buckling, but momentum carried its massive body forward. I rolled desperately to the side as nearly 300 kilograms of dying elk crashed into the space where I'd just been.

The impact shook the ground, sending snow flying in all directions. The elk thrashed once, twice, then went still, its antlers giving one final, brilliant pulse before fading to a dull, lifeless white-blue.

I lay in the snow, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps. The hunt had succeeded, but far more messily than I'd planned. If the elk's charge had connected, I'd have been crushed regardless of magical protection.

"Warlock! Are you unharmed?" Minnow's voice called from somewhere behind me.

I pushed myself up on shaking arms, taking stock of my condition. Nothing seemed broken, though every muscle protested the sudden exertion and cold.

"I'm alive," I called back, my voice unsteady. "Got one."

Minnow appeared at the ridge, its diminutive form more visible in the growing light. It didn't approach further—the open ground around the fallen elk offered no shadows for a nav to travel through.

I staggered to my feet, brushing snow from my clothes as I approached my kill. The crystal elk was even more impressive up close—its coat a silvery white that seemed to contain subtle fractal dark silver rune-like patterns woven into the fur itself. 

"Now comes the hard part," I muttered to myself, looking at the massive beast. Trying to butcher it here in the open would take far too long and leave me exposed to any predators or Jotuns that might be drawn to the blood and commotion.

I returned to where Minnow waited and quickly trudged back to collect my domain sled. Pulling it down the slope was a tad tricky—I had to dig my heels in to prevent it from careening forward—but I managed to bring it close to the fallen elk.

I worked quickly, fashioning a crude harness from the rope I'd brought. After several minutes of awkward maneuvering and straining against the elk's considerable weight, sliding the body via wooden ramparts, I managed to get most of its body onto the sled atop of my magic earth pile covered by a fur tarp so it would not escape.

The magnificent creature barely fit, its legs, antlers and head hanging over the edges. I secured it with more rope, tying it down as best I could. The sled groaned under the weight, but its runners thankfully still slid across the snow when I pulled with all my strength.

"This will have to do," I panted, testing the bindings one last time.

With a final heave, I began the laborious task of pulling my greatly overburdened sled back toward the ridge where Minnow waited. It took me a while as I had to avoid the hill. The little nav wasn’t looking good, visibly weakened by the growing daylight cutting through the gray clouds overhead.

"Let's get you back to the shadows," I said.

“Yes. Take me… to your domain. It will help me… recover,” Minnow let out, its movements sluggish. I picked it up and placed it beside the elk onto the pile of magic earth. The little undead was very light and rapidly buried itself into the leather tarp in the shadow of the elk’s body.

We made our way back toward Svalbard more slowly than our outward journey. Pulling the sled with both my domain soil and an entire crystal elk was backbreaking work, even with the snowshoes distributing my weight across the snow. Every step was a battle against the combined weight, but the proximity to my domain kept the worst of the exhaustion at bay. Without its witchy magic refuelling my stamina, I would have probably given up long ago and would have to carve the elk up right then and there.

I continued struggling with every step to pull my heavily laden sled through the village ruins. My thoughts turned to the next phase of my plan as I hauled my prize homeward. The hunt had been successful. Stormy greeted me at the door with a loud meow.

"Phew… Mission accomplished," I told her, maneuvering just the front of the sled through the doorway while leaving the elk outside for the moment. I shed my outer layers, catching my breath. "Got exactly what we needed. And then some."

Day 8.2: Pact of the Night

I stared at the massive crystal elk carcass hanging halfway out my door, a new problem becoming apparent. 

"Right. I've never dressed game before," I admitted to Stormy, who was sniffing curiously at the elk's silvery fur. "No idea what to do next. This isn't exactly covered in basic biochemistry classes."

The kitten looked up at me as if to say this was entirely my problem, then went back to investigating the dead elk.

Minnow flitted from the sleigh and then from the shadow to shadow within the pub, seeking the darkest location. It finally settled in the shadows of the leaves growing atop one of the corpse-containing barrels, curling into a tight ball.

"Need rest," the little nav whispered, its voice faint.

“Go ahead and sleep then,” I nodded, turning my attention back to the elk. The immediate challenge was getting it inside. The doorway was too narrow for the sled with the elk still on it, and the beast was far too heavy for me to simply lift and carry.

"This would be so much easier if I had, I don't know, a chainsaw," I muttered, tugging ineffectually at one of the elk's legs. "Or at least a proper steel knife."

After several minutes of struggling and achieving nothing but getting covered in silvery elk fur and a few smears of blood, I sat down on a pub bench, reconsidering the problem. 

With a grunt of effort, I untied the ropes securing the elk and, bracing my legs with a groan, managed to roll the massive carcass off the sled and onto the snow beside the doorway. Now freed of its burden, the sled slid easily through the doorway. 

But that still left the problem of the elk—both getting it inside and processing it into something I could offer Vesna. As I stood in the doorway, staring at the dead beast, a thought occurred to me.

"If Mohammed won't come to the mountain..." I murmured.

Rather than struggle to bring the massive elk to Vesna, why not bring Vesna to the elk? The Sirin had talons that could slice through flesh with ease—I'd experienced their sharpness firsthand during our encounters and she and the cage were heavy but still lighter than the elk. And if she was hungry after her trance, she might be willing to do the work of butchering the beast herself.

It was risky, certainly. But the Sirin was weakened, and according to both her own admission and Minnow's observations, she would be vulnerable in daylight. Plus, she couldn't see me within my domain.

Decision made, I approached the cold well where Vesna's cage had been stored for the past few days. Moving the chest of soil that covered the opening, I peered down into the darkness. The Sirin was where I'd left her, curled into a tight feathery ball within the iron cage, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

Using the rope and pulley system I'd rigged, I carefully hoisted the cage up from the well. It was hefty but manageable once I got it moving. Vesna didn't stir, maintaining her trance-like state as I maneuvered the cage onto the floor.

I shut the cold well entrance and lowered the cage and disconnected the overhead rope from it.

After applying a bit of oil salvaged from the blacksmith's shop to the runners below the cage, I was able to slide the cage across the wooden floor and out the doorway with reasonable effort.

Daylight hit the cage as I pulled it outside. Almost immediately, I saw a reaction—a subtle twitching of her wings, a slight change in her breathing rhythm.

I positioned the cage beside the elk carcass, then stepped back, maintaining a safe distance. "Rise and shine," I called. "I've brought you something."

At first, there was no response. Then, as the scent of the elk's blood reached her, Vesna began to stir. Her feathery cocoon unwrapped slowly, revealing her slender, avian form within. Her golden eyes blinked open, disoriented at first, then sharpening with sudden awareness.

"What...?" Her voice was raspy from disuse, her gaze darting around confusedly before fixing on the elk. Her nostrils flared, and a visible shudder ran through her body. "Crystal elk," she breathed, her voice taking on a hungry edge.

"As promised," I said. "Magical meat to break your trance."

Vesna pressed against the bars of her cage, her golden eyes never leaving the elk carcass. "Release me," she hissed, then seemed to catch herself. "Please. I need to... I can't feed properly in this cage. Daylight… hurts too."

I crossed my arms, considering. "How do I know you won't just fly away? Or try to attack me again?"

She laughed—a short, bitter sound. "Look at me, warlock. My wings are brittle from dragonfire exposure. And it's the middle of the day—I cannot fly under the sun's gaze without my wings shattering like glass." She gestured around at the ruins of Svalbard. "Besides, where would I go? My tree is ash. My domain destroyed. I have no sanctuary left and the troll or Jotuns would find me within hours if I wandered these woods alone."

Her arguments made sense, yet I remained cautious. "You'll return to the cage after feeding?"

"Fine, yes," she hissed, frustration evident in her voice. "What choice do I have? Now release me so I can eat!"

Taking a calculated risk, I wound up my arbalests and approached the cage and unlocked the heavy padlock with the key I'd kept in my backpack. I stepped back quickly, creating distance between us, aiming the arbalest at the Sirin in case she decided to attack me.

Vesna didn't immediately bolt. Instead, she edged toward the open door cautiously, her movements hampered by what appeared to be stiffness from her prolonged immobility. As she reached the threshold of the cage, more direct sunlight hit her feathers, and she let out a pained hiss. I noted that wisps of smoke rose from her feathers where the light touched them.

Moving with impressive speed despite her discomfort, she darted from the cage to the elk's carcass, grabbing both of its legs and began dragging the entire beast toward the shadowy interior of the pub with strength that belied her human-ish size.

She hissed angrily as she got the elk through the door.

I watched silently as she pulled the elk completely inside, positioning it in a shadowy corner away from the windows. Her breathing was labored, and small wisps of smoke still rose from patches of her feathers that had been exposed to direct sunlight.

"Rrrghh. Bloody sunlight," she muttered, more to herself than to me. Then, apparently recovered enough to focus on her meal, she turned her full attention to the elk.

What followed was curious and disturbing in equal measure. Vesna's talons extended to their full length—black, curved implements that looked capable of slicing through steel. 

Her cuts separating meat from bone, sinew from muscle, with silent efficiency. She seemed to instinctively know the elk's anatomy, targeting specific areas first—the heart, the liver, what looked like glands near the base of the antlers.

After setting these choice parts aside, she continued her methodical butchering, occasionally pausing to consume smaller pieces of raw flesh. 

Most surprising was her treatment of the crystal antlers. Using her talons, she carefully snapped them off at the base, the sound like breaking glass. Rather than discarding them, she brought a snipped piece of crystal to her mouth and began to crunch on it, sharp teeth grinding the crystalline structure to powder.

"You eat the antlers too?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied between bites. "They contain the purest essence of Perun’s might." She crunched another piece like candy, swallowing visibly. "Digesting them allows me to absorb some of that power."

“I see.” I said, sitting down, still pointing the arbalest her way just in case.

As she ate, I noticed subtle changes in her appearance. Her once-dull feathers began to regain some of their luster, the emerald tips glowing faintly. Her movements became more fluid, the stiffness from her prolonged trance melting away. Even her voice seemed stronger, the harmonics returning to her speech.

"You're recovering quickly," I observed.

Vesna nodded, tearing away another strip of silvery meat. "Crystal elk is potent sustenance for beings like me. This one was young but strong—its magic clean, uncorrupted."

She continued her meal in silence for several minutes before pausing to look in my general direction again. "You have questions, no doubt?"

"Many," I admitted. "But let's start with something practical. Can you shape crystals and gemstones?"

She tilted her head, considering. "Yes. I can split and reshape stone with spellwork. Why do you ask?"

I explained my attempts to create lenses from the crystalized rocks found in my domain, showing her my crude, failed attempt by placing it on a table and retreating back to the sled-domain-pile.

Vesna examined my attempt at grinding, turning the misshapen lens in her talons. "Primitive work," she assessed bluntly.

“Thanks,” I fired back.

"I could shape this properly for you,” she nodded, putting the rough lens back onto the table.

"Would you?" I asked.

"For a price," she replied. 

“What kind of price?”

"Freedom from that cage. No more dragonglass torture too.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” I asked.

“To what end?” She asked. 

“Revenge?” I shrugged. “I did destroy your magic tree-house and you were singing about cursing me and such.”

The Sirin let out a weary sigh. 

“Make her sing the truth,” Minnow suddenly voiced from between plant leaves. 

The Sirin’s head snapped to the nightborn. “A nav? Hrmm. It seems that you are gathering allies, warlock.”

Minnow emerged slightly from the shadows, its tiny form barely visible. "Yes, I am the nav of the warlock Ioan. I will judge your song-words, Sirin. Let us hear your true intent."

I mentally hurumped at the nav claiming to be mine, since I didn’t actually hire it yet. But then again, the little ghost-child did help me hunt an elk today.

“What sort of a song would you prefer of me, half-life dream-born?” the Sirin asked.

“A binding pact,” the nav declared firmly. “Swear upon the gods and Nox not to harm us and to serve my master and… to grant me access to your dreams!”

Clever Minnow, securing its meal.

Vesna considered the nav’s offer for a moment, her golden eyes narrowing. Then she rose from her crouched position beside the elk carcass, stepping into the center of the room. The shadows seemed to gather around her, clinging to her feathers like a second skin.

"Very well, little dream-child," she said. 

Stormy moved onto my lap as I sat down on one of the pub’s benches.

The sirin stood in the middle of the pub and spread her dark wings, and I tensed, readying my arbalest. But my worry was for nothing because something truly remarkable occured. 

Her feathers began to glow from within, emerald light pulsing along their edges. Silver electric sparks like miniature stars ignited across her wingspan, creating a mesmerizing display of light that reflected off the walls and ceiling of the pub.

Then she began to sing-hum, her voice beautiful, clear and haunting, but lacking the hypnotic pull that had nearly lured me to my death days earlier:

"Centuries of flight and hunt,
Now grounded by a warlock's stunt.
My wings once spanned the midnight sky,
Now brittle things that cannot fly."

The sparks intensified, swirling across her body and wings like a constellation coming to life. Her voice carried no compulsion, only raw emotion—anger, loss, and something deeper.

"Revenge burns bright but dims with time,
As snow dulls fire with bitter rime.
What use is hate when both are lost,
Two strangers in a dying world of frost?"

I watched, transfixed, as her wings pulsed with each verse, each feather igniting to highlight peacock-style silver-emerald eyes in it. The emerald glow from her feathers spread to her eyes, giving them an otherworldly luminescence, like two golden moons.

"Your domain hides you from my sight,
My powers wither in the light.
The Jotuns hunt with endless thirst,
Between two evils, you're... not worst."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at my lips at that backhanded compliment. The Sirin continued, her voice growing stronger:

"I need your shelter, you need my skill,
To shape the stones that bend your will.
My talons craft what hands cannot,
My arcane knowledge dearly bought."

The sparks began to form patterns—hexagram-style symbols I didn't recognize but that seemed to hold meaning for Minnow, whose black eyes widened.

"Once witch, now Sirin, I endured
The endless years, alone, obscured.
My tree is ash, my sisters gone,
My vengeance fades with breaking dawn."

Her voice softened, a note of genuine sorrow entering her song:

"Lisabella, sister of my heart,
A century gone by since we did part.
My soul yearns deep for kindred mind,
A bond that time cannot unbind."

The silver stars around her dimmed momentarily, as if responding to her grief, before flaring back to life as she continued:

"That ancient oak, my home was true,
But also a chain that bound me as I grew.
A gilded cage of my mate's make,
Its roots now burned, my chains now break.

I hunger not for flesh alone,But for a voice to match my own.
For whispered secrets, shared delight,
To pierce the veil of endless lonely night."

Her wings dipped slightly, then rose again with renewed vigor.

"A warlock-man concealed from sight
I offer you the power of night,
The knowledge of a thousand years,
Of starlit paths and ancient tears.

 I swear upon my Sirin might,
By goddess Nox who claims the night,
No harm shall come from talon or my song,
While our pact stands, true and strong."

She raised her head proudly, her golden eyes sweeping the room as if searching for me as she hummed.

The eerie light from her feathers intensified, casting strange, moving hexagrams across the pub's interior that detonated and fell apart into dancing emerald sparks.

"This truth I sing with open heart,
No lies or tricks or magic art.
A compact forged in bitter need,
Between two souls as the gods... decreed!"

Her voice rose to a crescendo, the stars around her wings spinning faster, brighter:

"So judge my words, oh half-life dream,
Observe the truth in my song-stream,
Oh little navi, born of night,
Bind this oath by your starlight!"

As the final note faded, Vesna folded her wings and knelt on one knee, extending a taloned hand toward Minnow. The silver-emerald light concentrated there, forming a small, pulsing star in her palm entwined with an eight-pointed hexagram spinning around it.

“A Pact of the Nox-bound,” she said. “My dream and nightmares yours to feast on, little nav of Warlock Ioan. My service and magic offered to you and your master in exchange for my freedom and your protection and companionship.”

Minnow hesitated, its tiny form wavering at the edge of shadow. Then, with surprising decisiveness, it emerged fully into the light and approached the edge of the barrel. 

“A Pact of the Nox-bound,” Minnow whispered to the Sirin. “My soul and half-life to bloom from your darkest, deepest dreams. My companionship and protection to guide you through the shadows.”

Reaching out with its diminutive hand, it touched the light in Vesna's palm.

A flash of silver illuminated the room for a heartbeat, then faded, leaving an afterimage on my retinas. When my vision cleared, I saw Minnow staring up at Vesna.

"The oath is true," Minnow announced, its voice stronger than I'd ever heard it. “Her song-words hold no deceit, our souls connected with the Pact of Nox, our dreams entwined!"

It flitted onto her shoulder.

Vesna rose gracefully, the last of the starlight fading from her feathers. "So it is done," she said simply. "I am bound by my word and by the pact with your nav. I will not harm you, warlock, nor attempt to flee, so long as you keep your end of our bargain."

I lowered my arbalest slightly, processing what I'd just witnessed. "And what exactly is my end of the bargain?"

"Freedom from the cage. Protection from the Jotuns and other mindless beasts. Cooperation to survive. And..." she paused, "a place to belong, a way out from the cursed North. In return, I offer my knowledge, my magic, my skills and my protection when night falls and predators come."

I considered her words. Having a centuries-old magical being as an ally rather than an enemy could prove invaluable. Her knowledge alone was worth the risk, to say nothing of her abilities.

"No more using songs on me?" I asked pointedly.

“Yes. I will not attempt to bend your mind with my music. You have my oath, bound by the Pact with the nightborn spirit."

Minnow nodded from her shoulder, concealing most of itself between her emerald feathers. "She speaks true, warlock."

"What do you think? Should we trust them?" I asked Stormy.

I watched as the kitten suddenly jumped off my lap and approached the Sirin. The Sirin sat down in a lotus pose and Stormy climbed onto her lap and started purring. Vesna started to gently pet the kitten, her hands becoming less lanky, black claws drawing in.

I made my decision, trusting that the kitten that was going to be eaten by the Sirin would not betray me so easily without reason. "Very well. You're free from the cage.”

Vesna seemed to relax at this.

“Is that cat magical?” I asked. 

“Mrrr,” Stormy huffed at me.

“It is a cat,” Vesna said. “If you function like a witch, then any animal that chooses to remain in your domain has the potential to become bound to you as your familiar. Eventually, it will gain power from it.”

“What kind of power?” I asked.

“I know not,” the Sirin shrugged. 

“This little one smells like a Future Seer,” Minnow commented.

“Then she could be a Seer,” Vesna said.

“I see,” I said. “Can I eat the crystal elk?”

“I don’t see why not,” the Sirin said, “your jaw probably won’t be able to handle its crystalline bones, but its flesh is quite safe for mortals and witches alike to devour.”

“Right then, Miss Claws,” I said, eyeing the cheeky kitten stretching on her lap. “Your first job will be to finish skinning that magic elk and to clean up the mess. Leave the bones for my garden.”