Every village has a square. This one has been the site of the annual harvest festival, the reading of Kolyan’s father’s will, the burning of a witch in 3401, and — twice — the mustering of villagers who marched east under the last banners of the Church of Barovia and did not come home. The well is older than the square around it. The chalk-board records rules no one enforces anymore, and one name in old ink no one has been able to identify since the Concord was signed. When the wind moves across this square, it carries all the sounds that should have happened here and did not.

The square is empty except for a scatter of straw the wind won’t blow away. The well-chain groans though no one is drawing. From the tavern’s shutters, one strip of yellow light.

Sensory

• The well-chain groans even when no one is drawing
• Wind across the square is louder than anywhere else in the village
• The public chalk-board has one name on it in an old hand — no one alive remembers who wrote it