Ravenloft · The Winter Within · Week 2 · Shortform 2 · EN · Sean & Eljara
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There were eleven chairs in the little Barovian inn.
Ten stood around the tables. The eleventh faced the wall.
Someone had carved a small sun into its backrest.
SEAN: “Has that chair done something wrong?”
ELJARA: “Perhaps it expressed an unpopular opinion.”
SEAN: “That would explain the punishment.”
The innkeeper did not laugh.
MARTA: “Nobody sits there.”
ELJARA: “May I ask why?”
Marta looked towards the shuttered windows.
MARTA: “Because my father made the mistake of inviting someone in.”
Outside, snow fell on the narrow village street. Beyond the rooftops, the Balinok Mountains disappeared into darkness.
MARTA: “He made eleven chairs because he believed there should always be one extra place at the table. For travellers, lonely neighbours, anyone who needed a warm meal.”
SEAN: “A good custom.”
MARTA: “It was.”
She touched the sun carved into the wood.
MARTA: “One winter evening, a stranger arrived. Father gave him supper and that chair. Then the man began singing a song my mother used to sing.”
ELJARA: “Perhaps he’d heard it somewhere.”
MARTA: “My mother had been dead for nine years. She wrote the song herself.”
The fire cracked.
MARTA: “When Father asked how he knew it, the stranger smiled. Then he sang in my mother’s voice.”
SEAN: “And your father?”
MARTA: “The lamps went out. I heard him scream. When we lit them again, the stranger was gone. Father was sitting on the floor, staring at the chair.”
ELJARA: “Did he ever explain what happened?”
MARTA: “No. He turned the chair towards the wall and never invited another stranger inside.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
SEAN: “That’s a terrible thing to live through.”
ELJARA: “And a very good reason to be cautious.”
MARTA: “Then you’ll understand why I lock my doors.”
SEAN: “Perfectly.”
He looked towards the empty chair.
SEAN: “But I wonder whether that stranger managed to steal two things from your father.”
MARTA: “Two?”
SEAN: “His peace. And the kindness he used to offer.”
The wind struck the shutters.
ELJARA: “We mustn’t mistake kindness for recklessness, Sean.”
SEAN: “I wasn’t planning to.”
ELJARA: “Barovia’s dangers are real. The dead can return. Familiar voices may belong to things that wear other people’s faces.”
SEAN: “Understood. I have no intention of inviting every passing vampire to supper.”
ELJARA: “Good.”
SEAN: “Especially without checking whether he intends to pay.”
Eljara gave him a look.
SEAN: “Too soon?”
ELJARA: “Considerably.”
Then someone knocked.
Three blows against the front door.
VOICE: “Please! Is anybody there?”
Marta went pale.
MARTA: “No.”
VOICE: “I’m freezing! Please!”
Eljara approached the narrow window, leaving the door firmly bolted.
Outside stood a young man in a torn wool coat. Frost covered his hair. One hand was pressed against his side.
ELJARA: “What’s your name?”
NIKO: “Niko. I came from the mill road. Something followed me through the trees.”
SEAN: “Did you see what it was?”
NIKO: “I thought it was my brother.”
ELJARA: “Where is your brother now?”
Niko lowered his head.
NIKO: “He died last spring.”
The room fell silent.
MARTA: “You see? He’s brought something terrible with him.”
SEAN: “Possibly.”
MARTA: “And you still want to open the door?”
SEAN: “I want to prevent a man from freezing to death. That doesn’t mean abandoning every precaution.”
He looked towards the villagers.
SEAN: “There’s a sheltered wood store behind the kitchen, isn’t there?”
Marta nodded reluctantly.
ELJARA: “We can bring him inside that outer shelter. Keep watch in pairs. Warm him carefully and find out what happened.”
MARTA: “And if he’s lying?”
ELJARA: “Then we will have taken precautions.”
SEAN: “And if he’s telling the truth, we won’t have left him alone with whatever followed him.”
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances.
Finally, a farmer stood.
FARMER: “I’ll help.”
Another brought a lantern.
No one was asked to be fearless.
They simply agreed not to face the danger alone.
Niko was brought into the sheltered wood store, shivering and barely able to stand.
Eljara wrapped him in blankets. Sean helped the villagers secure the doors.
Marta brought warm broth.
NIKO: “Thank you.”
MARTA: “Tell us what happened first.”
NIKO: “I heard my brother calling from the trees. He was wearing the same coat they buried him in.”
ELJARA: “Did you follow him?”
NIKO: “No. I ran. But he kept calling my name.”
SEAN: “Then running may have been the wisest thing you’ve done all evening.”
Outside, the wind rose.
Three knocks sounded against the shutter.
VOICE OUTSIDE: “Please! Is anybody there?”
Niko froze.
It was his own voice.
The thing outside repeated his earlier words with precisely the same trembling breath.
VOICE OUTSIDE: “I’m freezing! Please!”
Sean slowly rested his hand on his sword.
ELJARA: “Nobody opens anything.”
Then the voice changed.
It became a woman’s voice. Gentle. Almost affectionate.
VOICE OUTSIDE: “Marta, darling. Come and see me.”
Marta staggered backwards.
MARTA: “Mother?”
SEAN: “No.”
MARTA: “But that’s her voice.”
ELJARA: “I believe you.”
She took Marta’s trembling hands.
ELJARA: “And whatever is outside knows exactly how much you’ve missed her.”
Something scraped slowly along the outer wall.
The villagers remained together, lanterns raised, doors secured.
Nobody answered the voice.
Eventually, the knocking stopped.
The thing disappeared into the snow.
By morning, strange footprints remained beneath the shelter’s overhanging roof.
They resembled human feet, but were much too long.
None led away.
SEAN: “Well. A strong argument for keeping the bolts.”
ELJARA: “Certainly.”
SEAN: “And for not answering every charming voice in the night.”
ELJARA: “Also certainly.”
She looked towards the wood store.
Niko was sleeping safely beneath two blankets.
ELJARA: “But what would have happened if we’d turned him away?”
SEAN: “He might have frozen. Or met that creature alone.”
ELJARA: “And we might never have known what was haunting the mill road.”
SEAN: “So helping him didn’t make the danger disappear.”
ELJARA: “No. But it gave him shelter, gave the village a warning and gave the creature several witnesses it probably hadn’t expected.”
SEAN: “Most inconsiderate of us.”
At breakfast, the villagers argued about what to do next.
Some wanted the inn closed to strangers.
Others wanted to organise a guarded shelter for travellers.
Marta listened.
FARMER: “We cannot let everyone inside.”
ELJARA: “No.”
SECOND VILLAGER: “But we cannot leave people to die on the road.”
SEAN: “No.”
FARMER: “Then what do we do?”
SEAN: “Something less dramatic than throwing every door open or nailing it shut.”
ELJARA: “We agree on precautions. A sheltered place. People keeping watch together. Warnings shared between households. Help offered without pretending every stranger is harmless.”
SEAN: “And without assuming that everyone unfamiliar must be a monster.”
FARMER: “Will that make Barovia safe?”
ELJARA: “No.”
FARMER: “Then why bother?”
Marta answered before anyone else.
MARTA: “Because someone might live.”
She walked towards the chair facing the wall.
MARTA: “My father built this for people who had nowhere else to sit.”
Her fingers traced the little carved sun.
MARTA: “After that terrible night, we remembered only his fear.”
She took hold of the chair.
Slowly, she turned it back towards the table.
SEAN: “Are you certain?”
MARTA: “Not at all.”
SEAN: “Good. I’d be suspicious of anyone who’s completely certain of anything in Barovia.”
For the first time, Marta laughed.
That evening, the inn was full of neighbours planning how to help one another.
The danger had not gone. The creature might return. Strahd still ruled from Castle Ravenloft. The Mists still held the valley captive.
Outside, an unfamiliar carriage passed through the snow.
The villagers watched it in silence.
Then someone added another log to the fire.
A neighbour arrived, shaking snow from his coat.
MARTA: “Have you eaten?”
NEIGHBOUR: “Not yet.”
She gestured towards the empty chair.
ELJARA: “Do you think it will always stay at the table now?”
SEAN: “Perhaps not. Another terrible night might come. Someone may turn it towards the wall again.”
ELJARA: “And then?”
SEAN: “Then somebody else will have to remember why it was built.”
The little sun carved into the chair caught the firelight.
Beyond the shutters, the Mists waited.
Inside, there was still room for one more person.
Not because the world was safe.
Because fear had not yet been allowed to decide everything.
THE WORLD REMEMBERS
In Ravenloft, opening a door can change a life. So can keeping it closed.
Discover Ravenloft: Hunting Evil, where fear, friendship and difficult choices leave lasting consequences.
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