The light from the hearth dimmed. Its smoldering flames snuffed out from the freezing black mist that hovered over the stone floor. The black hound laid in the center. Its eyes glossed over, tongue protruding from its mouth. A flash of lightning illuminated the inside of the ruined tower. The twisted shadow of the eldritch haunt leaned over it. An unearthly chorus of voices spoke from the mist.
“Pitiful beast.” A clawed hand rose from the mist, inserting black tendrils into the nose, eyes, and mouth of the lifeless hound. “Take my essence!” The hound’s body began to budge and twist in unnatural ways. Sounds of ghastly breaths and cracking bones. “Serve me in darkness!” Its body spasmed violently.
“Bring me the blood of the Man Child!...So that I may LIVE once more!” The hound rose to its feet. Upright posture and fierce snarling. Tiny green flames flashed in its pitch black eyes. Immediately, it captured the scent and dashed off into the storm!
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The rain continued on, its steady drumming padded over the grotto Aes had discovered. She huffed and groaned as she rubbed a stick over another.
“That's not the way.” Gloam said. “Peel the bark from that one, no no the oth’ah. Tie it to one end, as if it was a bowstring, now the oth’ah. Bend it back. Good. Now sharpen that oth’ah. Wait…” Aes paused during the instructions. “Where did ya get that blade?”
Aes looked at the strange dagger she had been carrying around. “I don’t know, I had this strange dream that…” She paused, pulling the yoke of her tunic down, she exposed her shoulder. Gently rubbing her fingers around the wound. “It’s been stitched up...” she murmured.
“Ya had a dream…” He inquired.
“Yeah, and I picked this up and, I don’t know. I just woke up with it. Why?” Gloam was quiet, an obvious hesitation to responde.
“It’s very, ‘ornate’... ”
“Okay?” Aes asked.
Gloam said nothing further about it. Aes looked at the lantern, wondering what he was hiding from her. “Use it to sharpen the oth’ah stick to a point. Now, twist the string around the stick. Use the point to create friction in the tind’ah.” Aes worked diligently to make the fire. Time passed, her strength waned, tiny wisps of smoke emerged. She groaned and pleaded for something to catch, but there was nothing.
Aes slammed the sticks down several times in anger, the string partly coming off the bow. “Why is this so hard?! Why is everything I do?” She stood up in a huff, pacing the ground in frustration. Gloam, calm as always, watched her vent for several minutes.
“What makes ya think ya gotta get ever’ah thing right the first time?” Gloam asked.
“Because when I was growing up…just. Never mind!” She moped.
“Failure is part of learn’n. Only way yo gonna survive out he’ah is to learn.” He told her. “Also, using some of ya hair may help get it started.” Aes looked at the lantern, combing her black curls nervously as the cold winds seeped into the grotto, easing her temper gradually. She looked at the strange dagger, still idly combing her hair with her fingers.
”How much? I don’t want it to look uneven.”
”Ya appearance is the least of ya worries. Ya need to understand.”
She picked up the ornate blade once more, with great hesitation and several pauses. She took a lock of her hair before the blade’s edge. Breathing deeply, she clenched her eyes shut and sliced off a handful. The blade fell from her hand onto the ground. She had a grim expression. She placed the curls over the wood and used her crafted tools once more.
The wisps of smoke grew into dim lights that brought a small smile to her face. Though she continued idly combing the section of hair she had cut off.
“Blow gently and build it up. Place small pieces around it. The heat will catch. No! smaller than that!” Gloam instructed. The soft glow from the flame warmed the small area of the grotto. Providing the young human was a haven for respite. Aes moved closer to the small fire, gradually building it with Gloam’s instructions.
The two said little to each other. Aes drew into the ground different images and words. Gloam seemed to face the opening of the grotto, his translucent features frowning at something.
"Alex?" He murmured. Aes sat up at the name.
"Alex? What?" She inquired.
"N-Nothing De'ah."
"No," she said, crawling over the lantern. "You said, Alex, what about him!? Is he here?"
"No! I was in thought!" Gloam insisted. She sighed deeply and laid down. "Ya need to rest. We may be here for a while." Aes made no reply. She simply stared at the small fire, whispering the words 'I miss you.' as she closed her tired eyes.
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"Ya just want the thing we caught?" Bryn asked. Stroking the hairs on his face and chin. The Head Mistress nodded slowly, smoke from her pipe bellowing around her. The Knoll rose an eyebrow. "What for?"
"I suspect this creature has taken something that rightfully belongs to me!" she responded with a grin.
"So it is a 'fief! I knew it! That'll sure take a load of Grif mind. He aint been right since that one time. He sees hag magics everywhere!"
"So it's settled then? When the goblins go to take your supplies to this outpost of yours, they will bring it back to me?"
"I dunno. Sargent say all 'fiefs get the axe. Personally, I'd say we should cooks it! Had some pretty big mutton chops, those looked tasty..." his mug was topped off as he pondered, despite the roasted meat, grill fruits and warm rolls laid out before him. "Wait, you ain't bribing me, is ya?"
"Byrn, Dah'ling, would 'I' do such a thing?" The Head Mistress asked coyly.
"I guess not?" he shrugged, before scarfing down the food.
"Indeed, oh an do make sure to return my precious, uh..." The Head Mistress shuddered to remember, looking at Lily who was miming out carrying a lantern. "Lantern, yes! Precious heirloom! Oh, the restless nights!" She feigned, though Byrn was too distracted by his feast. "Byrn?!" The Knoll looked up, a chunk of meat falling from his face. "The Lantern as well?" he gave a solemn nod before going back to gorge himself.
The Head Mistress grinned as she stood up. "Perfect, now please excuse me, I have many letters to write and must get prepared for a VERY special guest." She softly cackled as she left the room.
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The reanimated hound dug his narrow snout into the brush. Following the human's strange path. She stayed close to the large rocks by the flowing stream, leaving no physical prints, intentionally or unintentionally. Unphased, the hound continued his hunt. Expanded senses detected a wisp of strongly mixed emotions. Fear. Anger. Confusion. Though the strong winds thinned out the scents, her track was not so easily covered.
He paused for a time. Sharp ears twitched and turned to the sounds of echoing voices, fading in and out. They echoed from the stones and trees. The beast stepped cautiously towards the higher-velocity sounds. They mixed with the human's scent, which had left a trace of strong smells of physical strain.
He howled another worldly noise with his newly gifted life energy that sounded like the dissonant voices of lost spirits. The beast was on the hunt. Trailing through the shadows of the dark forest, it leaped over logs with mighty limbs, powered through vines and brush with its broad frame.) The heavy chain around its neck flapped in the air behind, cracked limb and stone like a vile whip.
The echoes of the voices were clearer, and the scent grew stronger. His prey was close. The hound's long jaws opened, bearing large, sharp teeth. With a giant leap, the hound flew into the air. A strong crack of thunder and lightning lit up the sky. The hound landed just at the edge of a small cliff.
A warm glow from the other side nearly blinded the hound. The extension of his senses fortified with the vitality of the phantom. The beast faded back into the shadows, away from the luminous radiance. The scent was overwhelming He had found his prey resting before a small opening on the cliff side—a simple grotto elevated just over a flooding stream.
The hound perched himself within the shadows of the brush. The green flames from his eyes stared at the single spot. His instincts had been hardened, even beyond life. He watched and waited patiently.
Gloam stared back from his own point across the water. His glowing hue shifted to brighter colors. "Aes." he began. She didn't answer. Looking back to call out to the human once again. She had placed the last of the kindle over the small flames of the hearth and fallen asleep next to it. "Aes!" he called out again. She did not respond.
Gloam looked back out towards the grotto’s opening. Vigilantly observing the tree line on the other side. Its erratic yet predictable flow of movement from the winds showed glimpses of something—something watching and waiting in the dark.
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Sloshing through the murky swaps, a tall hunchback figure looms. Its long arms stabilize its body with a crooked stick. A faint aura of luminescence emanated from multiple lanterns tied to the walking stick. A single bulging, discolored green eye peered from under thin, scraggly hairs and a weathered, woven rag shawl.
The anorexic giant stopped in front of a hallowed tree, reaching its long arm inside. It caressed the remains of a broken rope.
"Seems a prisoner has escaped." A low, inhuman voice spoke from behind. It's four green eyes staring at the empty three.
"That little gutter snipe, I shant speak ill of his resourcefulness." The one-eyed giant wove the lanterns over the swamp water in a circle. Revealing a dark reflection of the events "The Shadow has been manipulated. But by whom? It is of no consequence;be his power shall be mine! Mara take all those who stand before me..."
The giant pulled another small lantern from a belt. Hanging it within the tree's hallowed center.
"Gran mother. Allow me to..." The giant rose its clawed hand to silence the four-eyed beast.
"You and your brother, guard my 'guests'. I shall retrieve Gloam, and feast on the bone of this trespasser." The giant croaked, her body mutating into a different creature. Arms and back sprouting quills, her long nose hardening to a beak. She took flight into the darkness of the hedge.
The small lantern she left behind radiated with sporatic shifts in colors of yellow, orange, and red. Within the twisted metal frame, a small figure could be seen, striking its fist on the glass, an expression of panic and despair.