Monster

The Villager and the Witch

Warning. This chapter mentions things that may be disturbing since they concern a horrible Witch who seems to have evil plans for little Hero.

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The village around him burned...

Beor stood in the middle, his body locked and chest heaving as he tried to pull in a breath and couldn't. Hands helplessly clenched into fists, his wide open eyes bulged at the horror surrounding him.

Embers flew in a flurry and settled on the ground, where shadows shrouded around contorted, still forms and everyday objects, scattered where they were dropped as the surviving residents of the village fled in panic. There, an over-turned bucket with spilled water darkening the ground. In dark it looked very much like blood. Over there, a dropped toy chiseled out of wood by some elder villager's caring hands for his grandchild now slowly charred in the tongues of flame trying to spread across neat little village cobble-stone paths.

Distant screams retreated, settling around Beor into dead silence. A movement up ahead made him throw up his head. Green eyes first squinted, then widened and his already struggling heart stumbled once more into a frantic beat. His body trembling, the villager made a small step back, staring at the silently approaching figure.

Only a few feet away from him, the being stopped and slightly crooked his head as he surveyed the horrific scene, his face betraying only an idle interest. The gesture was familiar and disturbing. With cold terror rising in his numbed heart, Beor blinked at the being, whose eyes burned a cold white glow, casting an eerie pale light across the rest of his human face. So familiar, except for that sneer that twisted the being's lips with disdain. This was Grake's little foundling, grown up.

"... You see?" Scratchy, disembodied voice intruded into his vision. "And this is just a small glimpse into the Memory of one whom you so foolishly took into your home. His past. And most likely... your future."

Beor gulped, troubled emotions flaring so powerfully in his chest that his heart felt like it would burst. The vision let go, leaving the villager blinking, wide-eyed, into space ahead of him.

Slowly, his awareness of the world returned.

His limbs suddenly gave and shook under him. His eyes turning to a roughly hewn chair by Hero's bed, the villager staggered to it and sunk, lowering his head into trembling hands. The pot of stew that he was busy preparing needed to be stirred, bubbling, but Beor ignored it. He then lifted his head and held a disbelieving gaze on the small being still asleep in his new bed, which Beor built for him himself just a couple of weeks ago.

The small being stirred, making a discontent whimper as he sometimes did when troubled by nightmares. Until now, Beor had no idea what brought them on, but he would respond by coming and reassuring the child, who would then quickly calm and fall asleep once more. This time, the villager only continued to stare at him, his hands shakily clenching.

Those terrifying visions were what the child was seeing? His true memories?

Not receiving his usual comfort, the toddler fully woke up. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes with small clenched fists, and looked up to search around him for someone to comfort him, a big pout on his face. Sweat-slicked tuft of over-grown hair that needed to be cut again, stuck to his flushed cheeks. Child's white eyes found an unfamiliar blue-robed figure standing close to his bed and startled, opening wide. With a whimper, he jerked back to the wall, where he curled, drawing his blanket up to hide his face.

Beor inched forward automatically to go to him, but then leaned back, his fists clenching tighter and heart numb, and turned to his visitor. Troubled, green eyes searched her gray face with a pleading question.