Obsidian

Early in the morning, screams could be heard coming from the wooden cottage. Izachiel stood among the trees, crouching down to hide. He gathered his courage to go inside and face the furious Mariana.

Mariana sat at the table, clutching the black thing in her hands. It was a winter night, the full moon was shining outside, and her little house was surrounded by fog. The modestly furnished room was lit by the orange flames from the stove and a candle on the table. Every now and then, there was a crackling sound as...