Mayor Ingrid Sæther opened the door before Liv could knock, her figure tall and gaunt. Her hair, streaked with silver, fell loosely around her shoulders. Ingrid's pale blue eyes flicked to Liv’s shoulder, as if expecting something—someone—else to be lurking nearby. She hesitated before speaking, voice strained. “Come inside. I didn’t want to leave the door open too long.”
Liv entered, shaking off the snow, boots heavy with the weight of the world outside. A fire crackled in the hearth, but the heat failed to reach the corners of the room, where shadows gathered and whispered. Ingrid closed the door behind them, her face shadowed with a lingering dread that clung to every gesture. “You’re late,” she muttered, her hands wringing together, her body tense. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“Worse than murder?” Liv’s voice was calm, but the words held a steel edge.
Ingrid motioned to the far corner, where a map, yellowed with age, lay open on the table. Ancient symbols, intricate and unnerving, filled the page, dark ink staining the paper. “The Dunker.” Her voice faltered, cracking with an emotion Liv couldn’t place. “I thought it was a story—just old words meant to keep children close to their homes, keep them out of the woods. But... it’s real. The murders, the blood... the runes—it’s all connected.”
Liv studied the symbols, frowning. “You think these are the marks of the Dunker? A myth?”
“They’re more than marks, Detective,” Ingrid whispered, her hands trembling as they hovered over the map. “This creature—this curse—it has been bound for centuries, held beneath the ice by a ritual that demands blood. Someone has broken the seal. And he’s coming.”
The wind rattled the windows, its violent howls making the walls shudder. Liv felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. A creak echoed from the door, too loud, too deliberate. Ingrid’s face paled, eyes wide with a terror that went beyond reason. “It’s started.”
Before Liv could respond, the door flew open. A man, ragged and half-dead, stumbled into the room, his clothes torn and bloodied. His face, smeared with dirt, contorted in pain and madness. His eyes, wide with horror, locked on Ingrid. “It’s—he’s—coming! You have to—” His words trailed off as his body collapsed to the floor. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the threshold.
Liv knelt beside the man, checking for signs of life, but she knew—he was gone. Her fingers brushed the skin of his neck, feeling a coldness that ran deeper than death. The markings—deep, jagged runes carved into his flesh—were unmistakable. “The Dunker,” she muttered under her breath, standing. The air in the room grew heavy, pressing in on her chest. The walls seemed to close in.
Ingrid backed away, her voice breaking. “We can’t stop it. It’s too late.”
The ground trembled beneath Liv’s boots. A deep rumble echoed through the earth, reverberating up her spine. A low, guttural growl rolled through the forest, something primal, ancient, too large to be anything human. Liv’s gaze snapped to the window. Above the snow-covered trees, the sky had darkened, a sickly green light spreading across the horizon. The aurora borealis twisted, a violent, writhing mess of color. The wind screeched like the wail of a lost soul, and she knew—it was here.
She turned to Ingrid, her eyes hard. “Get the villagers to the church. Now. Lock the doors, don’t let anyone out.”
Ingrid barely nodded, but fear paralyzed her. Liv grabbed a heavy coat off the hook by the door, pulling it on as she strode toward the back of the house, her eyes scanning the shelves. Old books, leather-bound and thick with dust, lined the walls. Her fingers brushed against a tome—the one she’d been hoping to find. The runes, the rituals, the answer. She opened it with trembling hands, reading the incantations quickly, committing them to memory. The Dunker—an entity older than any man, more terrifying than the vilest of myths—had been bound by ancient rites. Blood had sealed the creature away. And blood would be the key to ending it.
Ingrid called from the door. “Liv—!”
Liv turned. “Stay inside. Don’t open the door for anyone.”
The ground shook again, harder this time, and a crack split the earth. Ice began to splinter, a deafening crack resounding across the village as the lake shuddered beneath the weight of an ancient horror. Through the shattered ice, a figure emerged. The Dunker. Massive, emaciated, its towering form was an abomination, covered in layers of frost, with eyes as dark and empty as the void. It moved with a terrible, relentless hunger.
Liv stepped outside, the cold biting into her skin. The creature’s howl echoed through the night, a monstrous screech that pierced the air. The villagers had already fled, their footsteps lost in the snow. There was no time.
She raised the book, her voice steady as she recited the incantations, the ancient words thick with power. The creature’s eyes narrowed, glowing with a fury that shook the ground beneath her feet. It lunged forward, a blur of shadow and ice. Liv didn’t flinch. The book pulsed in her hands, the runes glowing with a fierce light.
A deafening roar echoed through the fjord as the Dunker fell back, its body writhing in agony. The ice beneath it cracked open, swallowing the creature into the depths. The aurora flickered, then faded.
The air went still, the village silent.
Liv, standing amidst the cold, felt the weight of what had transpired. The village was safe—for now. But as the last of the Dunker’s echoes disappeared into the night, she could feel it, deep in her bones—it was not gone. Not truly.
The frost had seeped into her soul.
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Exciting news! My book, Cumberland Chronicles at Books2Read, is now available! If you enjoy the supernatural, horror, and the weird, I’d love for you to check it out. Even if it’s not your thing, a quick share would help me reach the right readers. Thank you for the support!
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