“I’m not gonna, no way.” A fairy-boy replied, shifting in place uncomfortably.
“Go on. I DARE ya!” The second fairy-boy giggled some more.
“No way! Haven’t you noticed how there are NO other creatures around here? Even the breeze stops here,” the first fairy-boy replied in panicked, hushed tones. He cast a glance around – yup, nothing was moving alright. The trees, the water in the pond, the moss, the very air itself… was still.
“Duh! That’s ‘cause the BEAST-“ the first fairy boy shuddered violently “-lives in there!” Without warning, the second fairy-boy seized a small moss-covered stone off the forest floor and heaved it as hard as he could out into the moderately sized pond they stood before. “NO!” The first fairy-boy screamed, clasped his hands over his mouth, and shuddered even more violently, his eyes following the wide arc of the stone. It crashed near the middle, breaking the silence temporarily. A few birds flew away… but the ripples in the water stopped extraordinarily fast. Before they knew it, the water and the surrounding environment was back to its still, eerie silence.
“See? Nothing lives out there, Peatre! Now I double dare ya!” The first fairy-boy had turned and whispered triumphantly.
“You probably woke it! I’m not swimming a lap in that pond, no way, nuh uh. You can keep your chestnut pillow, it’s not worth death, Mikel!” Peatre turned to embrace the loooong walk to find the path Mikel had strayed them from hours ago when a hand landed on his shoulder to scare him. Poor Peatre jumped, whimpered and wet himself simultaneously. Mikel’s hand slid off of Peatre’s shoulder and he fell to the ground laughing at how easily excited Peatre was. It was worth it, Mikel thought, to drag him out here just to see this!
SSSFNKCRKLCK-splishsplashshhhhhTHUD.
Mikel instantly stopped laughing. Suddenly quite damp, he turned so fast towards the sound he cracked his neck – there lay Peatre’s severed, mangled head.
Mikel was on his feet – he didn’t remember even standing, but now he was backing away. His laughter had died, his voice had died… all he could think to do was run, to get away, to get the blood off of him, to get help.
He made it two steps.
At that point, the forest began to spin, slowly at first, but enough to entirely disorient Mikel. He began to sway during those first two steps, and just as he went to take the third, the entire forest lurched out from under his feet and he fell, hard, onto his left side. Laughter from many different voices in every direction filled his ears… the laughter turned into screaming, and everything he saw went from dark green to dark red as the forest began to strip away at itself…. Mikel’s eyes began to bleed. A sharp blow to the chest and then to the face ensured that the last thing Mikel ever saw was his own blood that he frantically tried to blink out of his eyes.
… A creature knelt before the bodies and spoke:
“Móðir vor sem ert á jörðu,
Heilagt veri nafn þitt.
Komi ríki þitt,
Og veri vilji þinn framkvæmd ur í oss,
Eins og han er í þér.
Eins og þú.
Sendir hvern dag þína engla
Sendu þá einnig til oss.
Fyrirgefið oss vorar syndir,
Eins og vér bætum fyrir
Allar vorar syndir gagn- vart þér.
Og leið oss eigi til sjúkleika,
Heldur fær oss frá öllu illu,
því þín er jörðin
Líkaminn og heilsan.
…Amen.”
Toan had changed. The Lost Woods changes you, no doubt about that. He had unconsciously become what he’d be mistakenly cast out of Sæglópur for being – evil, practically a demon, damned by the Gods… though he still prayed to Them and, regardless of the peculiar manner, still remained loyal to Them and only Them. His skin was marred and dirty (as a result of a near deadly experience with an Ikana warrior), and so was his disposition against most of civilization. His corner of the Lost Woods even reflected so; the surrounding creatures had abandoned him ages ago. His Zora magic was no longer what it used to be. Now it mirrors what it is used for – dark magic for dark actions, after all. Toan’s magic even inadvertently contributed to the atmosphere that Peatre picked up on; his magic, in conjunction with the nature mystical nature of the Lost Woods, was what sustained Toan’s current home as the unnaturally sinister place it was.
Why was it his home, anyway? Having nowhere to go, Toan had traveled north until he hit land, whereupon he learned the pirate raid was just one attack in a massive, daresay worldwide, war waging between the three Dorms. Eager to rectify his sins and earn glory amongst his people, Toan joined the Lost Woods forces against the primarily the Pirates (the Ikana undead meant nothing to him)… until a nearly fatal encounter with Rhiannon left him unable to continue. Toan fell back, deep into the Lost Woods, to tend to his wounds where he grew even more bitter and religious.
He had had plans, too. Toan was going to prove his devotion to the Gods, to prove he wasn’t what the elders had made him out to be, to earn his way back into Sæglópur. As time went by and as the seasons changed over and over again, so did his plans. From earning his way back in… to forcing his way back in …to revenge against the elders… until, finally, Toan wanted nothing to do with them. All that concerned him now was his devotion to his Zora Gods, and his vengeance against the pirates and Rhiannon in the names of those Gods. After all, everything he did, good or bad, was in Their names… including the deaths of Peatre and Mikel.
They wandered into my holy sanctuary, Toan had justified. They were besmirching the holy land, disrupting the spirits… But Toan had prayed over their deaths, all the same, wishing them eternal glory in the afterlife. Seizing both of the corpses, each collar in a hand, he began to drag them to the waterfront to feed… until Toan noticed a newspaper on the ground, muddy and bloody. He wouldn’t have paid it a second glance had it not been for the large article on the front titled “DESERT RAID”, which interested him mildly enough to pick it up. The picture on the front was what took the cake, however.
…Her. Now Toan knew exactly where the godless creature that destroyed his chances against the pirates in their time of weakness, thanks to the picture. Rhiannon is in the desert.
Toan stood entirely still for a moment. Was he truly ready to set out? To abandon his holy sanctum and finish what the pirates began in the names of his Creators? He cast a glance around. Other than additional spiritual reflection, nothing more could be gained from this dismal setting… Forgetting the bodies, he rummaged through his brown cloak pockets to make sure he had what mattered: his few bits of gold and his necklace, emblazoned with spiritual symbols and blessed by the high priest himself. He kissed it and threw it around his neck – divine protection would be welcome for such an adventure. Toan took a step and it landed in the pool of fresh blood. He looked down… and looted the bodies of anything they might have of worth on them. Some gold, a bit of string, and a vial of some liquid were all the Zora could salvage. With that, he set out on his way… Due west until the Lost Woods were no more… From there, he’d have to trek through Roslen and Uradiel… It would be a difficult journey…
…It’s in the Their hands now, Toan thought. Protect me, Oh Holy Protectors… Heilagt veri nafn þitt.