Wind And Water by Blank_Canvas at Inkitt

Summary

Every year, in the old log cabin in the heart of the woods, a face appears at the window. A haunted face, illuminated by the light of the moon with the backdrop of the dark forest. It is the same story each year, the same cabin, woman, circumstances. But not the same story. This story is her story, because behind the haunting and the shadows and the fury, there was a woman. Three years. Three years, and seven people are gone. Seven, plus her. Years before these hauntings, in the very same woods, the village held a trial. All of those with magic, lined up in chains at the stake. One wrong move and they will be sucked underfoot. They know this well. But maybe being trampled by hundreds of feet of all sizes is a better fate than what awaits them. After all, the body, no matter how deep its wounds, heals faster than the heart. When Rose was a teenager, she entered a dare into the woods. Everyone said La Esperanta was folklore, nothing but a story. But now, she’s eighty years old and she is the last link to the dark past that Forest Arcadia hides in its thick tangled branches and twisting shadows.

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

Author: Blank_Canvas

Status: Complete

Chapters: 44

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 18+

Prologue

Friday, September 13th, 1501:

Tap. Tap. A face appears at the window. A haunted face, illuminated by the light of the moon with the backdrop of the dark forest. Shadows line the eyes, the cheeks, the jaw, the same way one might apply makeup. But the only makeup she wears is the makeup of her past. Fury folds her lips. Sadness burns her heart. The window shatters. The people inside disappear. One year. One year can hold so much hurt.

Friday, October 13th, 1502:

Tap. Tap. A face appears at the window. A haunted face, illuminated by the light of the moon with the backdrop of the dark forest. Shadows line the eyes, the cheeks, the jaw, the same way one might apply makeup. But this year, the shadows are darker, the skin paler. Fury folds her lips. Sadness burns her heart. The window shatters. The people inside disappear. Her fists close over the shards of glass. A scream echoes and reverberates across the empty woods. It is her own. Two years. Two years can hold so much hurt.

Friday, November 13th, 1503:

Tap. Tap. A face appears at the window. A haunted face, illuminated by the light of the moon with the backdrop of the dark forest. It is the same story, the same one each year, the same cabin, the same woman, the same people. But not the same story. This story is her story, because behind the haunting and the shadows and the fury, there was a woman. Three years. Three years, and seven people are gone. Seven, plus her.