*On the flanks of Mount Húm Many sought in vain And came to their doom By smell they were slain* *On the flanks of Mount Húm Grows a flower bright red Each seven years in bloom And its smell means death* ## Part I: Betrayal "Come, my love," Lady Alliv said, a smile on her face, "Lie down and rest. How was your journey?" "Tiring. Hot." Caled sat, then stood again and wiped sweat from his brow with a dusty hand. "I need a bath." "That you do, my love. Go wash first, then I'll join you." Caled grunted and stomped off towards the steam rooms. Alliv smiled, she had never expected their union to work out as it did, but she loved the man. He had just returned from Rinhúm, where their son was to start his studies with the Greyrobes - as a nine-year-old, he was among the youngest students ever allowed to study the Greyrobes' lore - and Caled had insisted on bringing Salen to the Greyrobes himself, even if it meant being away from their lands for two months. In his absence, the Lady Alliv had managed the estate's affairs, keeping their people fed and happy and safe. Now that her husband was back, they could share the load again and Alliv looked forward to make some time for reading. Lady Alliv wandered through the garden, watching bees finding their last hauls of pollen before nightfall. Her favourite spot in the garden overlooked the valley and Alliv sat down for a moment, eyes closed, and took a deep breath. Lavender and citrus fruits mixed with the earthy smell of dust - no rain had fallen for two weeks, but she was sure that it would not be another few days before it did - and Alliv felt the rays of the setting sun on her face. She had not expected to live a life like this indeed, not after her father cast her out, yet here she sat, loved and content. *Mount Húm looms over the woman, her silhouette dark against the light of the rising sun. She strides with purpose, deep-set eyes feverishly scanning her surroundings. The woman struggles onwards against the winds of early spring stirring up fresh snow where it's not yet packed into the lower layers of old winter ice. She strides with purpose, because she know where she has to go. She scans her surroundings, because she knows Mount Húm is a treacherous and dangerous place. Because she knows what is at stake. Because there is no margin for error, if she is to get what is hers by right.* When Alliv opened her eyes, the sun had fully set and the light of the waning moon cast a dappled pattern through the leaves overhead. Crickets chirped and Alliv shivered when a cool breeze stirred the nighttime air. How long had she been asleep? And why had Caled not sent for her? Alliv pulled her robe tight, goosebumps on her arms not only from the evening's chill, and walked back down the garden path towards the main building. "Silna, is my husband still in the steam rooms?" Alliv asked a passing maid. "I believe so, madam, he has been there quite a while now. Should I fetch him?" "That's alright Silna, I will find him myself." This was unlike Caled, especially after having been away for such a long time. Alliv stepped up her pace. The steam rooms were just beyond the main house, their estate laid out in a traditional fashion, a simple wooden one-story building with separate spaces to prepare, steam and rinse. Alliv swallowed before she entered the preparation room, grabbing one of the lit oil lamps as she walked past the entrance. The inside of the steam rooms was normally well-lit, but shadows danced from the oil lamps flame as Alliv called out softly. "Caled, love? Caled, are you there?" Not a sound but the muted chirps of crickets in the garden. "Caled?" Alliv slid open the screen that separated the preparation room from the steam room itself. She stood in the opening, steam escaping from the room. Alliv bit back a scream and almost dropped the lamp when she saw Caled lying on the floor, a single red flower pressed to his unmoving chest and blood trickling from his nose. Who? Why? *The woman squints as she crests a ridge overlooking a shallow valley, the sunlight reflecting off the snow momentarily blinding her. At first, the red flecks dotting her vision seem like an afterimage, but as her eyes adjust to the brightness, she spots a patch of red flowers amid the sparkling white and rocky grey of Mount Húm. This is it. This is what she is here for. The woman's mouth twitches with a smile in an otherwise impassive face, an old scar running from her forehead, over her left eye, almost all the way to her ear. She covers her mouth and nose with a veil and ties it closed, then makes her way down the tricky slope toward the patch of red that caused this outburst of emotion. Finally, she would have her revenge. Finally, she would possess that which was denied her all those years ago. The woman grabs two vials and a small pair of scissors from her traveling pack, then stoops to cut, gently, carefully, two flowers and seals them in the vials. Soon.* The Lady Alliv kneeled next to her husband, cheeks wet with tears, her throat thick and dry. A feeling she had not felt since the day of her younger brother's accidental death. Since the day her father had banished her, never to return. A moan rose from Alliv's stomach, a slow, rumbling, guttural moan. A momentary fear flashed through Alliv's mind, *No, not again!*, but it was quickly burnt away by the overwhelming grief. A moan, visceral and wild, clawing its way up Alliv's throat, tearing on her insides, thrumming with pain. Alliv leaned into the feeling, let the hurt wash away her conscious control. A moan forcing apart her jaws in an agonous howl. Alliv's body bent back, away from Caled's corpse, the howl building up force. Alliv's eyes rolled upwards until only bloodshot whites showed and still the howl's energy rose, came in heaves of despair as it split the night. Finally, Allive doubled over, breaths ragged and sharp, hands grasping for something, anything, to steady herself for what was to come. The skin on her arms and her back rippled as if something was trying to get out, bulges moving under Alliv's skin, pressing sharply until spikes ripped through, leaving trails of blood on Alliv's robe. Alliv's head rose up, wicked fangs piercing from a face twisted in wrath, eyes still bloodshot and white. The Lady rose up, shedding what was left of her robe, a sniff, then another. A scent out of place. A prey to find. Revenge. It did not take long for Alliv to pick up a trail, the scent a beacon to her nose. She stalked the gardens, head moving left to right, the familiar citrus and lavender now marred by the stench of humankind, sour sweat and uneaten food, and traces of... *What is that smell?* A maid going about some late-night task gasped, then whined, when she saw her lady in this state, a mess of spikes, skin broken and covered in blood. Alliv ignored the maid, fully immersed in the hunt. The unfamiliar smell, thick in the air now, an almost tangible strand of... *What?* Then, sudden movement in the shadows near the trees across this field - Alliv reacted instantly, the hunt now fully on and vision turned red. Five leaps into her run, she grunted, roared, feet dug into soil, muscles compressed, then taut as she lept the final stretch, her fangs glistening in the moonlight, arms spread wide and claws ready to rip into her husband's murderer. Alliv landed with a howl, saliva running down her chin, kill, kill, *KILL*! She jerked her head around, *where?!*, then felt something heavy connect with her head from behind. And again. Alliv stumbled, knees buckling from the impact, sudden reflux bitter in her mouth, then fell to the ground, face down. A veiled figure, *a woman?*, dressed in black stepped into Alliv's swimming vision. Leveled her face with Alliv's and pushed aside her veil. A scar ran across the woman's left eye, almost to the ear. The smell... this woman... *of course.* "Yitan," Alliv growled while her arms twitched in a futile attempt to get up, "How... dare you show... your face here. After all these years." The other woman's face remained impassive. "You hideous beast. I am here to take what is mine. What should have been mine all along. Sister-in-law." Yitan fastened her veil again, took out a vial from her belt. Alliv could not see well enough in the dark, but when Yitan unstoppered the vial - *that smell* - Alliv realised that the smell was the same. The same as the lingering smell in the steam rooms. The same trace of smell she followed through the gardens. Yitan carefully shook a flower from the vial and placed it beside Alliv's face. "Breathe now. Breathe now and know it is the end." Alliv struggled to hold her breath, struggled to get up, to take her revenge. When finally her body responded, it was by switching to the involuntary breathing of slipping into unconsciousness and the sickly sweet smell of the flower ravaged her lungs. Such is the smell of betrayal. Such is the smell of the colour red. Such is the smell of death.