Curse of Strahd: Shattered Moon AU

The sky above Vallaki was clear and full of stars. Like it had been every second for the last thirty years. Though the stars were configured in alien constellations, and the crescent moon overhead was shattered into dozens of pieces, Finneas still preferred it to the mists. At least this way you could look whatever was trying to kill you in the eye.

Brom greeted Finneas with a clap on the back and bottle of wine as he entered. The two Martikov boys - plus Lucien, who was really a third Martikov boy - had grown into strapping young men. Finneas, in contrast, had grown old. His face was sallow with terrible loss and pain. His hair was gray. His scars festered and clawed deeper inside him. Since Castle Ravenloft. Since the night Sloane became Dark Lord.

Finneas made his way to his usual table in the corner, where he could hide his face from the flickering candlelight. He knew the way everyone stared at him. The rumors they whispered. Sir Finneas McClaren, the Black Knight of Barovia. The butcher who sold his soul for a doomed quest and who now had to pay his bloody dues. Finneas did little to dissuade their rumors. He was a broken man, held down by loss and failure. It was the perfect time of night for him to drink himself into oblivion.

It took Finneas a moment to notice the two cloaked figures that entered the inn just after him. The taller one held the smaller one's hand and sized Finneas up from a distance. He brushed it off as another staring villager, curious if the rumors were true. Until the figures walked over and sat down at his table. The taller one pulled back her hood, revealing long gray-streaked red hair and a burn scar across her neck.

"It's been a long time," Finneas said, staring into Ireena Kolyana's cold eyes.

"Eleven years," Ireena said, "Figured I'd find you here."

"So who's your friend?" Finneas had long stopped hoping there was any chance the two of them would get back together.

"I'll trade you a question for a question. That old fey game."

Finneas chuckled under his breath. "Fine."

"How many sacrifices are left?"

"Nine." Shami-Amourae bubbled at the edge of his mind with commentary. Finneas shook her away and took a swig of wine. "And your companion?"

Ireena smiled at the figure. "Introduce yourself to Finneas, sweetie."

The kid threw off the cloak as if they'd been waiting to do it since the moment they walked in. They were an androgynous human, eighteen or nineteen years old, with curly red hair tied in a bun and deep purple eyes. "My name is Sasha Nikitovna. What's your favorite flower?"

Finneas stared wide eyed at the kid. "Fuck."

"That's not a flower," Sasha said.

Ireena took Sasha's hand, "He likes thistles and water lilies."

Sasha produced a small pink satchel from their side and pulled out a thistle. "Sorry, I don't have any water lilies." They reached out the thistle to Finneas.

Finneas batted it away. "That's it. A question for a question. You two can leave now."

Ireena's smile disappeared. "That's it? This might be our chance to fix things."

Finneas huffed in indignation, "What the hell would you have me do? March up to Castle Ravenloft again?"

Ireena scowled, "I'd have you hope."

"Ireena, I held Lilac in my arms. I watched her blood run through her dress and stain it red. I watched the light leave his eyes. There is no more hope. There's only Dark Lord Sloane and us rats in a bucket scurrying on top of each other and trying not to drown."

"What happened to the man who always got back up?" Ireena said.

Finneas raised his voice ever so slightly and looked a frightened Sasha in the eye. "I've seen Lilac die enough times already."

Ireena squeezed Sasha's hand to comfort them and shook their head. "I don't know which one of us is crazier. The old man who gave up a long time ago, or the old woman fighting to hang on."

"So stop fighting."

Ireena looked up at Finneas, deep into his green eyes. Finneas could feel her burrowing into him, searching for something more. Finally, Ireena said, "Why are there still nine sacrifices left? Why weren't thirty years enough?"

"You know why."

"I want you to say it."

Finneas swallowed. "The thing you don't expect about murdering one-hundred people is how hard it is to look them in the eye. How hard it is to pass judgment with a sword. Barovia is a small place. In the material plane, in a few big cities, you could kill a hundred rapists in a year. But in Barovia? There's a lot less options. Harder to find a real bad guy who deserves it. I could be done twice over if I killed every married man who went to a brothel on the weekend. But I don't want to do it the easy way."

"Why not?"

Finneas softly touched the edge of his gauntlet, where a faded green cloth was still tied after all these years. "Because Greensleeves try to save everyone."

Finneas stared into the deep purple of Sasha's eyes. The same eyes that once decorated this inn with flowers for him. The same eyes that once declared themselves Lilac Greensleeves. The same eyes that always looked up at him like he was the man he pretended to be. Now, those eyes quivered in fear and uncertainty.

Finally, Finneas turned to Ireena. "Whatever your plan is, I'm in."