Ulmed urged his horse to hurry along the dirt road. He wanted to reach the town of Vallaki soon. Gloomy forest around him gave way to sloping terrain. Whenever he crested a hill, he could see for miles.
His horse's hooves thumped against the inclined ground as he reached a high hill.
Then, in the distance, he spotted the figure of a person.
Robed in white.
Tatyana followed Sergei as they walked up to Strahd's throne, where he had watched the sunrise that morning.
"Brother," said the older von Zarovich. "I've decided that I'm going to travel Barovia, to get to know it and be able to find my way around as Lord. I'd like you to come with me."
Sergei ducked his head. "Of course, Strahd." He turned towards her. "And, could Tatyana come, too?"
Tatyana was surprised at the suggestion. But it would be nice to see the valley - which she'd seen none of either - and to stay with Sergei.
Strahd's face remained stonily inscrutable while he considered it. Sergei stared at him anxiously. What would he say? Sergei had never been able to predict his brother.
Please, please, let him say yes.
"Very well," said Strahd. "She will be your guest."
Sergei gasped with joy and took her hands. Tatyana laughed at his excitement. As they ran out of the room to pack for the journey, Tatyana noticed Strahd staring directly at her, strangely. He didn't stop until they left the room. A shiver ran down her back.
The Amber Temple was hectic, cultists sharpening weapons, preparing spells, checking on their tattoos of immortality, checking maps.
Exethanter stood on the steps of the altar. On the dais, the churning cyclone of fog that was the Dark Powers swirled.
"Remember," she screeched. "Before our vessel can become ours, its spirit must be broken!"
The whole world! the Dark Powers wailed. Our vessel must rule the whole world, and only then will we grant you eternal life!
"Don't worry," grinned Exethanter, exposing a skull like and decaying mouth. "It will not take long for us to break the one I have in mind."
The sun broke over the mountains. As their group awakened, Avon Dilisnya tapped one of his allies on the shoulder.
"Don't try anything rash, like attacking Zarovich's soldiers or stealing weapons," he whispered. "We take a bit of food from our own stock, and that's all. We'll drink water from the river and find weapons in the valley. Spread the word."
His ally nodded.
As everyone awoke, the soldiers began prodding them and trying to herd them down the mountainside, while people were still waking up and grabbing their things. Avon's throat constricted with rage. This was the moment. The rest of their people would leave the valley, probably for good. It would be trapped under Strahd's hand.
But not for long.
The guards noticed he and his group hanging back. As they approached, Avon bellowed, "NOW!"
They turned and ran back down the mountain, aiming for the clump of trees halfway down they had picked the night before. From there, they could vanish into the valley's forests.
As if they had practiced, half the guards ran toward them while the other half stayed at the crest of the mountain and threw javelins in their direction.
Avon shouted at them to push themselves, and they ran faster. Several tripped and tumbled, rolling down the hill. One man was struck in the back by a javelin. He rolled down the hill into the forest, staining the grass red.
When Avon and his group reached the trees, they didn't stop. They kept going, until they reached their hiding place. There they stayed, hidden, until the guards were gone, either back to the group or somewhere else, probably to tell Strahd.
Let him know we're coming, he thought savagely.
When they were sure it was safe, they went back for the dead man. He had been left where he'd fallen by the soldiers. Despicable. They buried him with the respect he deserved.
"His name was Bogdan, and he is an honorable martyr," said Avon solemnly. "We must not forget why he died, or who it was who cruelly killed him. We will keep his memory alive, and we will fight to avenge him."
The men murmured assent and laid flowers on the grave. They walked away, keeping their backs turned respectfully, as was the custom. After walking for a long time, they broke out of the forest to see their old Castle, which Strahd was doubtlessly living in at that moment.
"We're here," said Avon. "Let's begin."
The carriage bumped along, jostling Tatyana. They were traveling south in a caravan with all the supplies they'd need for the journey around the valley. Around their transport, lots of servants and guards rode on horses.
Strahd was sitting at the front of the carriage with their driver, charting the course, so she and Sergei were alone in the back.
"It's good Strahd's getting to know his land right away," commented Tatyana.
Sergei nodded. He glanced nervously at Tatyana. "I'm sorry for being so forward all the time- asking you to come with me to the castle, and then asking Strahd if you could come on this trip without consulting you first."
"No, it's okay," Tatyana smiled. He was always checking to make sure she was alright and content. "I'm glad you did; we can see the valley together."
Sergei's bright smile grew at her words. "Oh, good. In the future, I'm sorry if I ever do anything too quickly, without letting you think it through."
In the future. Tatyana stared down at her hands.
"I'm glad I met you, Sergei."
"I'm glad I met you too," he said softly.
Right as she had pulled out her parchment to start a new drawing, the carriage bounced to a halt.
Strahd called to them from the front of the caravan. "We're at our first stop."
"Already?" asked Sergei. "We've barely traveled!"
"Get out of the carriage," Strahd sounded tense.
Shrugging, she and Sergei climbed out.
Ulmed leaped off his horse as he reached the figure in white. It was one of those wretched Priests of Osybus! The cultist stood on the hilltop as though frozen, blank eyes staring directly forward. The green skull tattoo on his forehead was pulsing green.
When Ulmed was within arm's reach, the Priest vanished, fading away into the air as though he'd never been there. Ulmed grunted with shock.
The only thing that was left was the green tattoo. It remained, floating in the air, pulsing every now and then.
Ulmed reached out a hand to touch it, but then it was gone too. Glancing around, he saw it. Somehow, the skull tattoo was flying away, illuminating the forest around it.
Leaping back onto his horse, Ulmed raced after it, heading southeast.
Their carriage had stopped in what looked to be a temporary camp. Many people in strange clothing were scattered around. Caravans were parked in a lane in the forest clearing.
Tatyana ran up to Strahd, who stood facing the camp. Sergei followed.
"Who are these people?" she asked.
"They are the Vistani," Strahd answered. For some reason, he sounded unhappy. "They're travelers who roam freely."
At the end of the lane, a tent had been set up. It was a purple so deep it seemed to dim the light. Beads and shawls were thrown over it haphazardly, yet it was an intriguing sight.
An old woman in a thick violet robe stood in front of the tent. She pointed at Strahd and beckoned with a finger.
A muscle in Strahd's neck twitched.
"I have to go talk to her."
Tatyana and the two von Zaroviches walked down the caravan lane, towards the old robed woman. Along the way, they passed some Vistani who looked like they were starving. Did the group not have enough food for everyone?
Strahd strode right past them. Tatyana grabbed his arm, and he whirled around, looking surprised.
"Wait," she said.
She ran back to their carriage. Sergei, understanding, followed her. They had plenty of food; some could be spared. She and Sergei passed out food to the hungriest ones, and they gazed up at them with gratitude and awe.
Strahd stared at them as they gave out the rations. He should tell her off, for taking their food without asking him or Sergei first. But he couldn't. Something strange in him stirred.
"Come!" called the old woman. Her voice was much stronger than Sergei had imagined. He ran forward to walk beside his brother up to her.
"Madam Eva," said Strahd. "What do you want?"
"I have a fortune to read to you," she answered. She ducked into her tent.
As Sergei stepped forward to follow, Madam Eva lifted a finger to halt him.
"Only he may hear it," she warned him.
Face unreadable, Strahd ducked into the tent as well.
Sergei ran back to Tatyana as Strahd vanished.
"I hope he's okay in there," he said nervously.
"He will be," Tatyana promised.
The Vistani resumed their usual bustling, seeming to ignore the visitors in their midst. Tatyana looked around as some of their guards and servants mingled and talked with the wanderers.
She stopped and focused on one person, who stood on the outside of the crowd, near the edge of the woods. He was wearing a bright white robe, with a green hue around him. He looked fixedly at her, his expression blank except for a small, eerie smile on the edges of his lips.
She blinked, and he was gone.
Avon and his group entered a village. They pulled their hoods over their heads to hide their faces. Asking around, they found a weapons shop. They walked up to the front door.
"We can't all come in in this big group," Avon whispered, "We'll look suspicious. I and two others will go in. The rest of you, go somewhere else, but stay close."
As their crowd dispersed, Avon walked into the store. He picked out several daggers, a few blowguns and sickles, and other small weapons that could be used in an assassination. With everyone's coins pooled, they had enough to pay for all of it.
The short shopkeeper behind the store's counter looked like he was still setting up; he must have only arrived yesterday. When they put their purchase on the counter, he glanced up at their shadowed faces suspiciously.
"These are good weapons," he said to them. "Good for shadow killing, mayhaps."
Avon put the money on the counter. "Does everyone ask their customers questions?"
"Not everyone," said the short man. "But this is a weapons shop. I want to know if my products are used for anything suspicious like."
The two men behind him shifted anxiously. Avon considered his options. Killing the man would be too messy, and would alert Zarovich all the more.
Perhaps… if the man could be swayed to their side…?
He took a risk.
"Was this building here when you arrived in this village?"
"Yes," said the shopkeeper, looking confused by the change of topic.
"Do you know who built it?"
"Well, no."
"They were built," Avon said, "By the people who once lived in this valley. They lived here only a tenday ago. But Strahd drove them out."
"Really?"
"Drove them out of their own home," Avon's voice was getting louder. "He didn't need to. He could have had your people live here with ours. They would have welcomed you. But he didn't want to share this land. Because he's greedy!
"That's all he is! He's selfish, and he's cruel. All he cares about is power. He doesn't give a fig about you or me. He's killed two of us already; two innocent people whose only crime was not wanting to leave their home."
The shopkeeper's eyebrows lifted at the use of us, but he said nothing.
"We're going to bring him down. We're going to show him we can't be pushed around. And then, we're going to elect someone new. Someone fair and just, who will let my people and yours live here together."
He was breathing heavily as he finished his speech. The short man looked at him as if he was crazy. Then he said:
"Your weapons are on the house."
"What?" Avon asked, confused.
"I'm in," promised the shopkeeper. He wrapped his hand around a dagger and tested it. "Let someone better rule this valley."
Avon looked around at his allies.
"This could work."
The Amber Temple! That cursed priest's home. Ulmed should have known they wouldn't slink home and stay quiet after their master's death.
He dismounted from his horse a little farther away, then approached it on foot, hand wrapped tightly around his sheathed sword.
The massive jewel doors were locked, and seemed to whisper. As he looked for ways to get inside, he noticed a balcony above the front doors. He could have sworn it wasn't there a second ago.
While he tried to find the best way to climb up to it, he realized someone was suddenly standing on it. It was Exethanter, the dread lich. The deputy of Osybus.
Her teeth were bared in a ghostly grin. Ulmed stretched out his hand and shot a bolt of radiant light at her. It exploded, showering the balcony in blinding light. When the radiance cleared, the lich was gone.
Ulmed raced back to his horse, and rode north to Castle Ravenloft.
I have to warn Strahd!
Madam Eva sat down behind a table, which held a glass of wine and a tarokka deck. Strahd's blood turned to ice at the sight of the deck. It held the future, and it held bad omens.
He sat down across from Eva, who removed her hood to reveal a wrinkled old face with stringy white hair.
"Let's cut the niceties, Strahd," she began calmly. "You're in danger."
Strahd forced himself to remain calm. "What cursed fortune do you have for me this time?"
Solemnly, Madam Eva drew card after card. When she spoke, her voice was harsher and colder.
"The seed is planted; the tree will grow.
The cursed will flock to its fruit in heresy.
Through this tree, let malice flow.
Let it be planted by jealousy."
Gooseflesh rose along each of Strahd's limbs. The prophecy shook him deeply; yet he did not know why. He hadn't the slightest idea what it was referring to.
"Well," he said, "I-"
Suddenly, Madam Eva's eyes glowed green. Wind shook the tent. She sat up straighter, and seemed to grow in her seat.
"Beware, Zarovich! You are too strong," her closed mouth wailed. "None can defeat you in this realm.
"Your power is so great, even you it can overwhelm."
Madam Eva sat back down, looking like her eerie old self again.
"I must admit I wasn't expecting that last part," she noted calmly. "Well, that's all I have for you."
Without a word, Strahd stood and stumbled shakily out of the tent. He leaned against a tree, trying to collect his thoughts.
Why was he so scared from the prophecy? It was a good thing. He was strong! No one in the realm could defeat him. It meant his valley would never fall, didn't it?
Didn't it?
And what was the tree of malice that the cursed would flock to?
Nothing in the prophecy, as far as his mind could process, was bad news for him or anyone around him.
But then, why did he want to look over his shoulder, to make sure no one was creeping up to end him?
"Strahd!" Sergei called when his older brother walked out of the tent. He ran to him to ask what had happened, but Strahd was leaning against a tree, breathing hard.
"Are you alright?" Sergei asked, tapping him on the shoulder.
Strahd whirled around, his face pale and his eyes frantic. Then he relaxed. "Oh- it's just you."
"What happened in there?" Sergei questioned anxiously.
"I can't say," Strahd answered ominously. He still looked terrible. Sergei hadn't seen him like this in years.
Sergei sat down in the grass, and hesitantly, his brother sat down beside him.
"You don't have to tell me," Sergei began. "But I feel like I've been ignoring you lately. And I don't want that to happen. I want you to know that I'm there for you."
Strahd looked at him, slightly confused.
"You're my older brother, and I've always looked up to you. I always thought you were so strong, and brave, and cunning. I thought you could do anything. But… no one can do anything alone. So if you ever need someone, I'm there for you. I'll always be, no matter what. Because we're brothers."
Sergei rested his hand lightly on Strahd's.
"So, whatever was in the prophecy, if it means bad omens for you or anyone, we'll get through it together. Okay?"
Strahd nodded slowly, and Sergei stood up to leave. Strahd looked at his hand, feeling something he hadn't expected: anger… and jealousy.
Exethanter stood on the balcony, looking out beyond the Amber Temple. That fool Ulmed thought his weak spells could hurt the lich in her own lair? It had been all too easy to compel him to leave.
A Priest approached behind her, and she turned to see him.
"Our vessel approaches," Exethanter promised. "It won't be long now."