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There was a disquiet in the start of the morning – a feeling of unease and restlessness that clawed at the schoolteacher. The renovations were nearing their completion of the school and the final days of the semester drawing to a close for her young pupils. It was the same feeling that pitted within her stomach the day her son was taken from her, the same feeling she had when her husband died. It was unsettling and such a feeling did not stray from the tension in her shoulders throughout the early morning hours. Classes held outdoors pending the weather were drawn to an end as she waved off the smaller children to their parents with her usual masked smile and she ensured to assist those laborers who had been helping with the renovations in hopes the distractions would quell the knots forming in her stomach.

Since running into Coen, she’d bring a small lunch for either of his parents during his absence and listen to the wild tales spun from his mother’s lips as they strolled the cemetery together. It was during their walk; did she see the smoke in the distance. Several miles eastward, closer to— “Excuse me, Mrs. Luíseach I’ve got to return home early today.” She bid her regards in haste and took her leave in a sprinting dash. Her heart racing a mile a minute whilst taking advantageous efforts to return home as quickly as she was able.  Zipping around crows and darting between brush and tree, the scent of burning grew stronger, silently the maiden pleaded that the fears rattling her mind would not surface to reality.

However, such prayers were left unanswered. 

There was a group of four or five – a mixture of rebellious individuals pillaging her home. Glass was shattered with broken entry, their elemental magics were cast, to send her home into flames.
“Ain’ nuthin’ here – not a single coin.”  Came an agitated sigh;
“Well keep burn’n the damn thing down then! Bitch thinks she can just put those crescents anywhere while we fucking starve to death?“  

“No, don’t--!”  she cried out as she lunged through the trees just to see her once humble little home engulfed in infernal embers. The very home her husband had built them shortly after they had wed. From there, everything was a blur. Fighting back the threat of assailants, her side wept in red while running into the burning building, “No, no, no—please.” panic trumped logic and reason as she entered the burning home, everything within was already met with ruin. Tapestries and the small toys she had kept turning to ash and soot. Smoke and tears stung her eyes as she began to frantically try to find a way to subdue the flames from within, all the same, searched burned shelves and damaged walls to see if she could salvage anything.

“My letters—!“ she murmured, oblivious to the falling banister behind her wrapped in fire and skirting to the bedroom where she was met with a blast of heat and smoke despite the fruitless efforts of covering her face. Sonata found the wooden box only half of what it once was and the bundle of parchment over three-quarters of the way burned. Desperately she tried to salvage what she could to no avail and her heart only sank further. The letters were written by her late husband as he shared with her the excursions of the draft, the dangers, and adventures all the same. He’d shared with her how much he missed her and provided warm words of encouragement. The last pieces of writing she had of his before his passing. Anguish claimed her as tears streamed down her face lest they dried from the heat. The smoke was heavy and the heat of the fires had been growing unbearable. Sweat beading down her temples and her usual attire singed and burned. Though despite the dangers of the fires – they mattered not. The fact that she’d lost the last few remnants of her family had gone up in smoke is what brought her to her knees following the inhuman shrilling cry that erupted from her lungs.

---

The sound of wood burning wood cackled like the laughter of a hyena’s chortle. The groaning of support beams moaned as if the heat alone brought them deliberate agony as the flames licked at them from all around. The fires danced, in a swirling congo following a faint cyan sheen touched by the provocation of magic. The smoke was a black demon swirling around its claimed territory while strangling the anxious and distraught-heaving lungs. At just the slightest movement did the small remains of the wooden box crumble within now soot-stained palms. With it, the ashes of parchment that once filled the tiny chest to the brim.

Paintings of portraits that crowded the walls were a dismantled combination from the break-in and the destructive flames that engulfed the smaller homestead. Heart sinking further to the pit of her stomach as anguish took a tugging grip to the reigns of her what would usually have been a calmer demeanor. It was that fierce gnaw raked against her like the very silver blade that swept at her side, or the dark impression that now ringed her right eye in the wake of the barricade of assailants that now unknowingly lay sprawled upon the earth outside her home. It made her insides burn like those unwelcoming full-moon nights that could not go ignored. A surge of panic found her then as she sought to reach for the Hecatolite stone that was assumed to be tucked within the confines of her pocket – a gift presented to her from the parents of her students. To her excitement she had shared such a treasure to Mrs. Luíseach during their brunch.

It must be sitting on her counter in the Misses’ kitchen.

The screams of several men dampened the wailing howls of her transition. There were many a full moon that she often tricked with care, so this proved to feel as if it were her first night once more save for the blind fury, but instead unbridled agony of her broken heart. Golden eyes gleaned in silver harmonized the lunar light which too painted the satin furs that tore through the fabrics of ruined clothes. There were soft highlights of rich indigo accents darkening her limbs and the tips of her ears. An off dark-ash gray tipped her long tail that currently remained tucked. The silver-borne lacerated tear in her side that had attempted its slow healing had only stretched and widened amidst her shifting, thus tearing and prolonging an otherwise simple mending process. As her transformation concluded, did the flames dissolve save for the glow of embers in the background though she was too distracted in the given moment to realize another change.

Interior structure all around was stained black with very little if at all, anything to salvage. There was a helplessness and an unsettling genuine ache of isolated loneliness that did not take long to find the wolf as she remained knelt before the charred shelves that now once possessed everything that was her husbands or sons. How could she bring herself to visit their graves now? She worried over that rather than where she would find shelter. Knock, knock, came a chiding decree through a sudden eerie broken silence. The hairs on her nape stood as her somewhat gentled hold of fragile burnt wood only splintered within a sudden vice-gripe. Pointed feathered ears twitching as finally took note of the now absent fire and the sudden stillness in the air.

There was a musk of the obvious cinder but with the ever so slightest tang of iron. Her jowls tightened. Let me in, the voice was jaunting. Coy. Nickel-stained eyes narrowed as she finally forced herself upright but not without an uncomfortable groan. A silent curse passed her thoughts of her added carelessness, though impartially too upset to care all the same. Claws were dragging across the ash-blanketed planks as she stood before the doorway. “Go away.... please.” Her voice cracked between a wolfish growl and a woman’s weeping plea. There was a hole in the door large enough that her swollen eye was exposed, peering through the shadows of the home. “I want no quarrel nor business with a vampire.” exposing her indifference with the race, she denied his entry in this manner, as she turned away from the door, just as she brushed her fur-coated arm along her face to rid the continued river of tears.

---

It was gone. All of it. The home would be deemed unlivable and all that surrounded her was nothing but the remains of ash scattered around her. This was all so much to take in all at once. Not to mention the fact that she was now left without a home. Her shoulders tensed, knowing that the sisters at the orphanage would have gladly welcomed her as they’d been pressing her to do so since the passing of her husband. No, it wasn’t what she wanted and she couldn’t bring herself to be a burden when a room could go to someone else who needed it far more than she did. And while she did go out of her way for others, she was not exactly the religious type and couldn’t possibly fathom the idea of listening how one should live a certain way.

In truth, Sonata was beginning to believe that she was just meant to remain alone. She’d already lost her only child and not long after, her husband. Now she’d been ripped from what was left of their memories. Eyes flashed silver towards the charred entry where the vampire stood on the other side. Sonata did not ask for his aide, nor for his company. So why did even linger? Very well. I shall do you one more act of kindness. The hairs along her back stood feeling as though salt was merely being added and rubbed aggressively into a fresh wound.

Bring me one item and I will reinstate it for you. There was the salt. I will repair it from ash to the state it was in before your house was sieged. But only one, else I will request repayment. The sound of charred wood splintered beneath her claws, the pain festering. However, if that is something that tempts you… I am willing to strike bargains. Sonata was quiet as the remains of plush toy caught the corner of her eye. It was Aeolian’s favorite bear. Or rather what remained of a well-worn stuffed animal. She could hardly call it a bear even then as it looked something crossed between a bear, a rabbit and a dog if that could even describe it to begin with. It lost a button eye by the time he was three years old after taking it outside in rough play – some sort of game imitating his fathers career or hunting games.

The strangers offer was tempting but—No, not even Christoph would want that. Sonata swallowed hard. “What sort of repayment are you seeking?” She asked roughly. Sights would lean towards the scattered corpses that only moments ago were destroying her very home. “I never asked for your aide, so why would you even remotely wish bargain with a beast?” She knew the words that came out of her mouth scorned even herself. It could have been the well of emotions that flooded her core presently. What could he possibly gain from such a situation?

---

Silver gold-flecked sights would draw down to claws painted in deep violet. Scraps of the plush were handled with care in such a way that if handled too coarsely, it would dissolve within the padding of her paws. It was clear she was heavily debating the vampires offer though her mind clearly at war with her own morals. It was wrong. Not to mention there was clearly some other loophole and a wave of uncertainty tugged at her chest. …As I said I will repair one item for free. Beyond that, it will depends on how much you want. Her shoulders drooped. The offer was tempting oh so tempting. Could she stoop to such temptations? Or rather, would it get him to leave her be? 

Would you have preferred to burn with the rest of this then? An ear twitched.  Was this man some temptress in another life or had he always been this way even in the in between of life and death. It’s not too late. I can bury you in these ruins.  It would be a lie to say she did not temper the idea. Sonata watched as bodies were drawn into the soils, swallowing them into the earth. It appeared as though they were never even there to begin with. Feathered ears flattened against her wolfish skull as this brought an unsettle to her stomach. Or, he insinuated, I could bring the whole place and everything in it back like this one. Big. Ugly. Nightmare. If that would be worth it to you.

Sonata flinched as if his words alone were steely daggers ripping into her chest. While the though of the house restoring would have been something of a gesture – there was a point there. It would have been a nightmare to return to now. A constant reminder to return to a place that was up in flames. All she could see was the home engulfed in hot golden spires. No, Christoph wouldn’t want that… and neither would she If their places were reversed.

If you want the truth of the matter, I just want to play this game with you. It’s your move, now. I have to say I’ve never had a lot of patience for chess, madame.

Shoulders rose and fell with a deflated sigh fell from dark lips as her tired sights fell to the remains of the plush toy. Sonata swallowed hard, murmuring under her breath in the askance of forgiveness from her late husband. More debris fell around her with an unsettling clamor. Smoke and ash dancing in an angry cloud before settling. “Here,” she relented, extending the remains of Aeolian’s toy. “It was my sons.” Her voice cracked. The silver and lilac furs upon her back began to shed.

---

As the toy left the claw, silver and dark violet furs had shed, revealing the soft gentle palm of her trembling hand. Silver slowly transitioned to a dull, tarnished gold. Silver and soft lilac furs were soon replaced with a mane of wavy curls that looked as if they could have been better kempt but remained untamed upon a flushed weary form. Her gaze would not meet his and instead watched as the magic preformed its duty within the vampires hand. Trepidation hung around her like a loosened woven noose as she watched as if time within that small space alone had become undone. Threading restitched while cotton and wool had restuffed itself. A button replaced a missing eye and the odd little animal was what it once had been like she had just presented it to her son on the eve of his arrival.

Her expression would soften into a sullen portrait and eyes to shortly well with stinging salt. She recollected how the plush toy had hardly ever left the child’s hand from the moment he became in possessions. How Aeolian made sure that wherever he went, so too did this oddly shaped bear-like plush did. Rain or shine, sleet or snow. From the rising sun to the settling of nightfall and tucked comfortably in the bend of his arm as she gently sang her lullabies to him. The mother made sure it was there upon display at his funeral in a humble reminder of his carefree and jovial spirit upon his passing. It had been displayed among a few other of his favorite toys she’d never could bring herself to part with just as she had the letters from Christoph before he too had been taken from her.

Will that be all? The tears were streaming down her face in large droplets, staining her flushed cheeks, splashing to the beaten ground when his inquiry brought her back to the bitter truths of reality. “Yes.” Her voice came in hardly a whisper. Broken and strained as if her voice had since left her too. She would carefully retrieve the toy as if such a thing was made with such frailty that she feared it would dissolve into the very ashes that scattered around either of them. “T-thank..you.” the pain was raw as her voice barely cracked an octave as she quietly observed the plush bear little moment longer before drawing to chest. It took every ounce of her will to not allow her knees to buckle.