Night Brings The Frost

by Razvan-Gabriel Popa

About the Author: During the day, Razvan is a professional volcanologist studying the eruptive styles of active volcanoes, with publications in renowned journals such as Nature Geoscience. At night, he is a fantasy writer (a bit dark), drawing his inspiration from European beliefs on undead and spirits, which he sources from ethnographic texts and original references. He is working on a novel series, and from time to time, he enjoys writing shorter fiction in the same universe.

Excerpt

“When night brings the frost, no one remains outside but one,” he says, throwing the dice. He lands a three and a four. Not bad. “It’s what they told me by the gates, when I entered the city.”

“You oughta heed the advice,” says the girl, her time to roll. The angling light of evenfall spears through the thickly glazed windows, shining on the numbers. Five and three. Smiling, she puts a long, thin finger on one of his beans and drags it over the table, to her end. Her pile is growing considerably, while his is on the dwindling side. “Frost has touched us mightily. The Braided River has been growin’ ice along the banks, and it’s going to be colder still tonight. No one remains outside but one.”

Furrowing his brows, he drinks of the air thick with candle smoke, and lifts the goblet to sip some firewater. Horrid stuff, really. How do those people up in the mountains like it, he can’t and won’t ever know. “Is that a joke or something? A weird thing you pull on newcomers?”

However, the way the guard said it sounded genuine enough. And the haste about the people today, all hurrying indoors as the shadows began to lengthen, is odder than odd.

“Have you seen the Fort Island?” she asks.

“You mean the ruined thing with crumbly towers in the middle of the river?”

“That’s the one. So you have seen it. It’s haunted by somethin’, you know?”

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