Many years passed before she found it, long after she expected any trace of them to cross her path again. The tales of that awful misty night had reduced to quiet murmurs, like the fading embers of a once-scorching fire. She had found where they’d been buried, and wept for a long time by their unmarked graves. His robot and her owlbear were no longer new, but old faces in this now-smaller family.

No, she had wandered into one of the few shops in town she enjoyed visiting searching not for the past, but a way to keep her mind off it. The store was filled with weird and curious objects that no one else wanted, that no one else dared to buy. A crickety old man at the counter would showcase his latest acquisitions, and she could barter some of her strange stuff for his. She had expected to find an exciting new artifact, briefly injecting some colour into her lonely swamp-witch life.

She had not expected to see his necklace, the worn and nicked amethyst hanging lonely in a dusty corner.

Quickly, she snatched the necklace from its nestled placement, and stormed over to where the old man sat.

“Where did you get this!?”

She watched with impatience as his withered face lit up, a toothy smile stretched over concealed cunning.

“Ah, lovely necklace no? Received it from a fine old woman here in the village. Said it was a gift from her husband, not sure where he got it. ‘parently it’s cursed, belonged to some criminal, supposedly died when the mists fell, supposedly killed by the devil himself. Found out and tried to get rid of it, she said, but no one accepts something with that sort’a past. Came to me, last resort, gladly took it. Interested?”

She felt her heart sinking as he spoke. There was little mistaking it, the necklace was his, an awful reminder of the day she could do nothing but run, of what she no longer had in her life. Clearly, the powers here wanted to make her life as miserable as possible, punishment for the good she’d once tried to do. And she wondered, what else had been taken from him? The gloves? The keys? The (now useless) ring? Not that she’d never done similar things in her life, better to take something and make use of it than to leave it to a deader. But that was different, this was Diath’s. It shouldn’t have been here, it was wrong and awful and-

The shopkeep coughed a little, waiting as she waded through her thoughts for her response to his query.

“Alright cutter,” she had to buy it, even if it was probably -definitely- cursed. It was not hers, but she couldn’t stand the thought of someone else buying, or worse, wearing a necklace that didn’t belong to them, “How much are you asking for it?” And if it was cursed, it was probably cursed while Diath had it, so she would probably be alright.

The man gave the necklace a good look over.

“I’d say not much. Sensing some… sentimentality from you though, so…” He gestured into the air, as if that in any way indicated a price.

“Ugh, fine.” She groaned as she pulled one of her better potions from her tattered robes and offered it to the man, whose eyes lit up once more, and snatched it away. She sighed as the necklace was thrust into her hand, she never was much good at bargaining. She stormed out of the store, muttering curses under her breath, while the man wished her a pleasant day.

It was not a pleasant day though, she could feel the soft “plip” of rain just beginning to fall as she stalked back through the streets of Barovia village, too distraught to even consider using her broom. At least her witch’s hat kept the wetness off her shoulders, though it also attracted a lot of attention, and all the weird looks she was getting were getting to her.

“Oh pike off!” she shouted to the passers-by, her voice cracked and distraught. Normally, she could ignore that sort of thing, but today, with her mind racing at a mile a minute, it was just too much. She started running, she had to get out of this maze of streets, away from the stares and claustrophobia. She needed somewhere she could be alone, to process what had happened, to cry on the ground without anyone else judging her. Her hut was so far away, too far away, if she could just get out of this crowded place she could…

She stopped racing once she passed the town gates. Panting, pausing to catch her breath, she sensed an uneasiness lingering, but at least now she was alone with her grief. The sweat from running chilled her as a cold wind blew past, and flecks of rain spat into her face. She pulled out the necklace, taking a closer look than in the shop. It was old and worn, definitely his, the little notches and scratches her faint memories recalled matched those present on the tired amethyst. The beginnings of rust lurked in the nooks of the chain. No, she squinted her eyes and peered even more closely, sniffing and even licking it; it wasn’t rust clinging to the chain, but specks of dried blood… oh. It looked like someone had tried -with some success- to wipe it away. She knew better though, these sorts of things have a permanent tarnish, even if you can’t see it.

She held the pendant out once more with shaky hands. What should she do with it? Never in a millennium could she have predicted this. This was ripping a bandage off and old wound, only to discover it was not yet healed, and likely never would be. The cool amethyst burned just to touch it, how could something so dear hurt so much?

The rain was picking up, she could feel the dampness building through her robes and around her eyes. She had to move now, or risk losing her way, crying on the ground with no one to help her back up. Darkness was creeping into the gray sky now, the shadows along her dusty trail merging more and more with the surroundings through each passing minute. But she was transfixed, staring at that awful necklace, unable to move so much as an inch, the chill of tears sliding down her face. What felt like ages past, until the sky had gone a murky dark gray, until the shadows blended and were no longer discernible. With a deep breath, she quickly tugged off the witch hat and pulled the necklace over her head, afraid to move any slower and risk being stuck forever. Already she wanted to scratch at it, to rip it off. It felt wrong- it was wrong, it was horrible, it wasn’t hers.

But,

But here, alone and crying in the growing dark, it was comforting to have anything of his -of any of theirs- close again. She could take it off once she got home, before Waffles or Simon could see, but right now she needed the little light, the little warmth, that came from wearing it, just enough to see her through her journey. She started down the path again, allowing herself a tearful smile as happier memories quietly trickled back into her mind. Sometimes, in trying to forget the pain, you lose a few of the good things too.

The rain eventually calmed to a drizzle, the cacophony of thoughts dulled to a murmur. The dampness had soaked through her robes, but in her hut she had a warm fire. Her worries no longer felt as pressing, the problems remaining could be managed.

She wasn’t sure how long it would stay that way, but for now, everything was as fine as it could be.