Entry 34: The cost of doing what is right

Dear Diary,
 
This morning, I woke with a pounding headache, the remnants of unsettling nightmares clinging to me like cobwebs. As I stumbled downstairs after trying to shake the discomfort away, I noticed Alistan and Liliana sitting at the table, looking just as drained and miserable as I felt. This wasn’t just coincidence—something was definitely wrong.
 
Over breakfast, we talked about the shared nightmares. It couldn’t be ignored any longer; we needed to figure out what was going on. My brother, always practical, cast a spell to detect any lingering traces of magic. After a few moments, he frowned and told us there were faint traces of illusion magic. We exchanged a knowing look. This was no ordinary bad dream—it smelled of dream magic, the kind that some fey creatures loved to meddle with.
 
Gael, ever the problem-solver, went to ask Pim, our mischievous little boggle, if he’d noticed anything unusual. Pim scratched his head, thinking, then casually mentioned he’d seen an old woman wandering the halls each night since we’d moved in. Luke conjured up an image of Auntie Pattie, the hag we’d encountered before, and asked if that was who Pim had seen. The boggle only shrugged, unable to confirm.
 
Frustrated but more determined than ever, we made a plan: we would keep watch tonight, and this time, we’d catch whoever—or whatever—was haunting our dreams.
 
With a plan to catch our mysterious visitor in place, I decided to head over to the Dresner farm to check on Tommel. Leen met me at the door, relief evident on her face as she informed me that he was much better now, strong enough to talk. I made my way upstairs, eager to get to the bottom of this curse situation.
 
Tommel greeted me weakly from his bed, but there was a cautious look in his eyes. When I asked him about the curse, his expression grew more serious, and he asked me to close the door. He didn’t want Leen to hear what he had to say.
 
He confirmed my suspicions: Auntie Pattie had cursed him. His voice was bitter as he recounted how he had chased her off the farm, driving her away in a moment of anger. But the curse hadn’t come without warning. I pressed him for more details, and he reluctantly explained that the goose, just like the basket of apples, had been a gift from the hag. She’d been bringing Leen little offerings regularly, always for his wife.
 
The air in the room grew heavier as I pushed him to explain why. With a deep sigh, he finally admitted the truth. A few weeks ago, while working in the field, Auntie Pattie had approached him, speaking of a vision she'd had—a terrible one. She claimed that his daughter Naira was destined to die unless he agreed to her terms. She promised to prevent Naira’s death, but only if Tommel gave her their newborn. In a moment of panic, he had agreed.
 
Tommel's voice broke as he confirmed that his wife, Leen, was pregnant. Auntie Pattie had been keeping tabs on her, watching closely. The realization hit me like a punch in the gut. This wasn’t just about curses or gifts anymore—it was a twisted bargain, one that Tommel had made out of desperation. Now, Auntie Pattie was waiting.
 
I assured Tommel that I’d do everything in my power to find a solution. After all, giving a newborn to a hag was as dark as it got—either the child would end up on Auntie Pattie’s dinner plate or twisted into something unnatural, perhaps even becoming a hag herself. Neither option was something I could live with, and I knew we had to act fast.
 
With that heavy matter set aside for the moment, I switched gears and brought up his long-standing rivalry with Farmer Farrick. The moment the words left my mouth, I could practically feel Tommel bristle. And when I asked him what started the feud, his answer made my head spin with disbelief: he didn’t even remember.
 
The pettiness was infuriating. People holding grudges for years over things they can’t even recall—it seemed ridiculous. I suggested he consider mending fences with Farrick, hoping for some common sense. He only muttered something about “thinking about it” if Darion apologized first. I’m convinced he only agreed because I’d helped lift his curse. The way these two clung to their pride was almost as absurd as their feud.
 
With a sigh, I took my leave of Tommel and made my way over to the Farrick farm. Surely Darion would have a better memory of this ancient rivalry. When I finally brought it up, I expected some grand betrayal or deep personal slight. Instead, Darion told me the story of how he and Tommel had gone fishing together. Their wives had made them the exact same lunch, and an argument had erupted over whose was better. Harsh words were exchanged, and before anyone knew it, a friendship was ruined.
 
I almost laughed out loud but managed to keep my composure. Two grown men had been holding a grudge for years over lunch.
 
Once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I suggested it might be time to let bygones be bygones. Darion, clearly just as stubborn as Tommel, agreed—but only if Tommel apologized first. And there we were, stuck in a loop of pointless pride, with both men waiting for the other to make the first move.
 
Dealing with men is almost as frustrating as dealing with a hag. Almost.
 
As I trudged toward the Ravensfielders’ reconstruction site, I couldn’t help but mull over the absurdity of men and their pointless grudges. Tommel and Darion’s decades-old feud over something as trivial as lunch—it baffled me. Their pride was a wall, as immovable as stone. The manual labor of rebuilding would hopefully clear my mind from the frustration. Swinging a hammer or laying stones was much simpler than trying to untangle the mess of egos between those two farmers.
 
Later, over a hearty dinner, we delved into a more pressing matter: Auntie Pattie’s twisted deal for Tommel’s unborn child. Should we wait for the hag to take the baby, then try to reclaim it? Or should we be proactive and break the deal before the birth? The clock was ticking, but at least we had a few months. Either way, one thing was crystal clear: we had to keep Naira safe from the hag’s clutches, no matter the cost.
 
That night, we prepared for Auntie Pattie’s return. Knowing she would likely come under the cover of darkness, expecting us to be asleep, we made our moves carefully. We each retreated to our rooms—some of us pretending to sleep, others staying sharp and awake, weapons within reach. The air in the keep was thick with tension, every creak of the floorboards making my nerves jolt.
 
Not long after we had settled in, a sharp cry of alarm pierced the night. Dadroz. We sprinted down the stairs, hearts pounding, and found ourselves face-to-face with Auntie Pattie herself. But what truly took my breath away was the sight of Liliana, her sword gleaming, having already struck through the hag’s magical darkness. Auntie Pattie stood there, defeated, her hands raised in surrender.
 
Auntie Pattie’s casual shrug, as if stealing dreams was a harmless hobby, made my skin crawl. The way she spoke, it was clear she saw nothing wrong with her actions—just another hag taking what she pleased. But this time, we weren’t letting it slide. Alistan stood firm at the door, his imposing figure making it clear she wouldn’t just walk away.
 
When we pressed her about why she was there, she only smirked, speaking as if dream-thievery was some whimsical pastime, claiming that the dreams of mortals were tastier than those of the fey. It was infuriating, her disregard for the harm she caused. But I knew this was typical hag behavior—taking what they want with no concern for the consequences.
 
“We won’t allow it,” I said, my voice firm. “Stay out of the village, and stay out of our lives.”
 
She laughed softly, clearly not taking the threat seriously. It was a long shot, expecting her to obey, but we had to draw a line somewhere. If nothing else, she now knew we were watching.
 
That’s when I turned the conversation to the deal Tommel had made. I knew Auntie Pattie wouldn’t give me a straight answer, so I didn’t bother playing her twisted games. Instead, I pushed into her thoughts, seeking the vision myself. The response was instant. For the first time since we had crossed paths, the hag dropped her innocent old-woman facade. Her eyes darkened, and her lips pulled back into a snarl.
 
“You’ve made a powerful enemy tonight,” she hissed, her voice laced with venom.
 
But I didn’t flinch. I had seen what I needed to see. I gave Alistan the signal to step aside and let her pass. She slithered out of the keep, her aura of malice lingering even after she was gone.
 
As soon as the door closed, I turned to the others, the weight of the vision settling over me like a heavy cloud. “Naira,” I began, my voice strained. “She’s in danger. The vision showed her being eaten by a giant frog… in the kitchen of our keep.”
 
The room fell into a tense silence. It was a disturbing image, but one we couldn’t ignore. We had time—time to figure out how to prevent the vision from coming to pass. But time was running out, and Auntie Pattie was not a foe to be underestimated.
Liliana and Gael voiced their displeasure with me, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did they not understand the gravity of the situation? Sure, they might want to play things cautiously, but at some point, you have to stand up to bullies. Hags, like Auntie Pattie, don’t negotiate—they take, manipulate, and destroy. Trying to appease her or reason with her wouldn’t change that. Maybe they grew up sheltered, in a cozy mansion or deep in an idyllic forest. But me? I grew up fighting to protect myself and my brother from bullies who thought they could push us around. I wasn't about to let anyone do that to the people of Dogville.
 
I could see there was no point in arguing further, so I took a deep breath, deciding to drop the discussion. It wasn’t worth it. I turned on my heel, heading back to bed. Alistan, ever the vigilant one, suggested someone keep watch for the night. Somehow, Gael convinced him to leave it to him, probably wanting to make up for earlier. In hindsight, it was the dumbest thing my dear elven friend had ever done.
 
A few hours later, the sound of a struggle jolted me awake. I barely had time to throw on my robe before the unmistakable sounds of fighting reached my ears. By the time I made it to the top of the stairs, a furious redcap stood in my way, grinning wickedly. Another one was down below, engaged in a brutal fight with my brother. Without hesitation, I summoned a fey of my own to even the odds, determined to push through.
 
By the time we dispatched the redcaps on the upper floor and rushed downstairs to help, the damage was already done. Disaster had struck.
 
The scene that greeted us at the bottom of the stairs was one of sheer horror. Gael’s mangled body lay twisted on the stone floor, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, while Liliana’s still form lay crumpled beside him. A cold shiver raced down my spine as we took in the devastation. It was a nightmare made real.
 
Luke was the first to move, his face pale with shock, but his hands steady. He rushed to Liliana’s side, pulling a healing potion from his belt and pouring it down her throat. We held our breath until we saw her chest rise and heard her shallow, ragged breath. Relief, thin as it was, swept through me.
 
Meanwhile, Alistan and I had our hands full with the last of the redcaps, whose twisted laughter filled the room as we fought. My summoned fey struck out at them viciously, and together, we managed to take the foul creatures down. But the damage was done. The toll of the night’s events was higher than we could have imagined.
 
Once the fight ended, we discovered the full extent of the loss. Dadroz’s lifeless body lay in a side room, his throat slashed. His expression was one of grim defiance, like he had fought to his last breath. My heart sank further. We had been too late.
Luke, pale with exhaustion, told us that he had barely managed to stop Auntie Pattie from dragging away their souls. But even that small victory felt hollow. Gael—headstrong, stubborn Gael—was gone, and so was Dadroz. If only he hadn’t insisted on keeping watch alone. If only he had let someone help. Now, we were left to pick up the pieces of a disaster we couldn’t take back.
 
The weight of the night settled heavily on all of us. We'd saved Liliana’s life, but the cost was unbearable.