The fire had raged to a halt, but the smell of smoke still lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp scent of burnt wood and the acrid tang of charred memories.
The fire had been intense. It was so intense that it burned through the hardwood structure like it was plywood. All left was a frail skeletal frame and a charred stone fireplace. There were no flames to be seen, but smoke still ascended the heavens, blocking out the moon's light.
His heart was heavy with sorrow so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing down on his chest. Ethan was no stranger to pain. He had endured horrors that would have broken most men, and he knew that to give in now would be to surrender to the demon that had done this.
He took a deep breath, the air thick with ash and dust, and stepped forward.
Ethan flicked his finger and a small candle-like flame appeared in the air, illuminating his path. It moved ahead of him, acting as his guide as he ventured into the unstable remnant.
The house creaked and groaned, warning of its loss of integrity. Most of the roof had collapsed onto the charred floor, creating smoky obstacles along the way.
His boots crunched on the debris-strewn ground as he made his way through what had once been the living room. The walls, now blackened and crumbling, had once been adorned with family photos and children's drawings.
Ethan walked through the wreck like it had not at some point held great value to him. He trampled on the remnant of the board game his family had been playing and continued on his way.
There was a little bit of roof and barely any walls, but the ash and markings on the floor told where what and what had once stood.
The building, or what was left of it was unrecognizable, but Ethan knew where everything was. He walked straight into what used to be his and Aisling's bedroom.
A large, semi-consumed mattress stood where there had once been a bed. Thick plumes of black smoke wafted out of the puffy black mass. Circles of embers brightened as they sucked in oxygen and then dulled again, fighting to stay alive.
Besides the mattress, the only other thing still partially recognizable in the room was the wardrobe.
It had burnt and collapsed in on itself, but part of it was still standing and a few smoldering fabrics remained.
Ethan blew it apart with a simple wave of his hand, scattering charred splinters and ash everywhere along with smoking fabric.
A small chest remained after the smoke and ash had cleared. It was clearly wooden but was untouched by the inferno. There wasn't even a single scorch mark on the surface.
It looked like a plain old chest. What could have made it strange was the fact that it seemed to be something you would expect in the possession of a much older couple, and also the fact that it possessed no visible lock.
But it didn't seem to need one. The moment Ethan touched the chest, it clinked and a series of gears could be heard moving within the wooden confines.
The chest went silent and the lid opened slightly. Ethan opened it the rest of the way to reveal a crude-looking silver key resting on a thick piece of clothing.
Ethan took both out of the chest. The piece of clothing was a coat. Thick and as black as black could be. The material looked like cotton or wool but did not feel like either and it was much heavier than it looked.
He wore it over his bloody clothes and stashed the key in one of the inner pockets.
Leaving the now empty chest, he searched over where his nightstand had once stood. It almost seemed like whatever he searched for had not survived the inferno, till the sound of glass crunching under his boot drew him to a halt.
The floating wisp of candlelight floated toward his boots and his gaze fell on a scorched frame lying amidst the rubble. He bent down and picked it up, brushing away the ash to reveal a picture of him and Aisling smiling with their two daughters, Maeve and Fiona.
Maeve was still a baby when the picture had been taken, looking barely above the age of two. Fiona had not been born at the time, so they had included a little picture of her in the frame
The glass of the frame was in a million pieces on the floor, leaving the photograph behind it exposed to the fire's influence. There were circles of soot where the heat had eaten through the image. Maeve at the far right was burned out along with Ethan and Aisling at the left. Fiona was the only one still intact from the picture though one of her eyes was missing.
A single tear traced a path down his soot-streaked cheek before he wiped it away with a grimy hand.
"I swear I'll make this right," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
Ethan blew white vapor from his mouth over the picture and it began to restore itself. Filling up the circles of soot, coloring the fading, and elongating back into what it had initially been. Ethan tucked it away into the innards of his cloak.
Done with his business in the house, the wisp led him back out into the night and Ethan realized something peculiar.
No forest ranger, firefighter, or police officer had shown up just yet. Not that he would have wanted them to, but the cabin had burned for a while during the day. Even now that it was dark, one could still see the silhouette of the smoke against the blue sky.
It should have been like a beacon or something. At least drawing fears of a forest fire, but no one had come and Ethan could think of only one other explanation.
No one had come because no one could see or smell it.
He'd placed a spell over a wide area where the cabin stood. No one could see the cabin or its surroundings, no one could hear what was going on in it and no one could smell anything coming from it. It would have appeared as a normal dense forest.
If the spell was still up, then it meant the demon hadn't gone through it, which led him to another realization that made him clench his jaws so hard his gums bled.
He nodded and let go of his momentary anger, and then took purposeful strides to a wide-trunked tree at the edge of the clearing.
The tree's bark looked like animal hide. Dull brown tough.
Ethan took the key from his pocket and inserted it into the tree like it possessed a keyhole. He twisted it and a slight creaking could be heard as the trunk of the tree suddenly hollowed out, revealing a short staircase.
The trunk closed up after Ethan went in, led by the wisp. The interior of the space was definitely more times the size of the tree.
Inside, the ground was brown earth and lined all along its circumference with bookshelf after bookshelf of books weary and heavy laden with tomes of a plethora of subjects. There was a living desk and chair fashioned out of large and growing roots with little buds and tendrils. The space was where he stored his tools, tools he had hoped never to need again.
The place had the constant aroma of petrichor and tilled earth.
Ethan ignored everything else in the room and walked to a heavy wooden chest along the circumference of the lair.
It was similar to the one in the bedroom but different at the same time. Its surface was covered in elaborate carvings. He knelt and pressed his palm to the center of the design, murmuring an incantation.
The chest responded with a soft click, and the lid lifted slightly. Inside were the tools of his old trade: a dagger with a blade forged from obsidian, vials of rare and potent elixirs, and amulets imbued with protective charms along with a small satchel that looked to have been fashioned from the same material as the cloak.
He stuffed everything else into the satchel and strapped the dagger to his belt. Though he put a lot of things into the satchel, it still maintained its original shape. It was bottomless. It already contained more than he had put inside.
As he stood, his gaze fell on a small music box sitting on a nearby shelf. It had been a gift from Aisling, given to him years ago when they were mere children.
He picked it up, turning the delicate crank. A soft, haunting melody filled the air, a glaring difference to the devastation he felt. Ethan closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him, a brief respite from the storm of emotions raging within.
With a deep breath, he placed the music box back on the shelf and turned to leave.
He stepped out into the night. The stars above were indifferent to his plight, twinkling in their eternal dance. But Ethan didn't need their sympathy. He had a mission, and he would see it through to the end.
"Soon they will fear me again," Ethan vowed.
But Ethan knew he couldn't do it alone. He was older now and out of practice, the events of the day proved that even more. The only person he could count on now for help was his younger brother, Gabriel Blackwood.
Blood is thicker than water, but Gabriel had genuine reasons to hate his older brother. It was among a long list of painful regrets he harbored close to his heart.
Gabriel had left their group years ago and had gone no contact ever since. Finding him would be easy, but Ethan knew he didn't want to be found, especially not by him.
Ethan sighed loudly as he looked at the stars. He would have to find him regardless, for Fiona's sake.
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a brass compass. The needle was exposed, he took it out and poked his thumb with it, drawing blood, and then returned the needle to the compass.
He muttered an incantation and then mentioned his brother's name.
The compass needle came to life, spinning in full circles for a while before slowing down and eventually coming to rest, pointing west.
Ethan moved over to another wide-trunked tree and paused to give one last look at the smoking wreck behind him and ran a hand through his thick dark hair.
He finally looked away and without hesitation, Ethan stepped forward, merging with the tree in an instant. The world around him blurred, the darkness of the night melting away as he was pulled through the fabric of space and time. It was an experience both familiar and disorienting, the sensation of being everywhere and nowhere at once.