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aplaceinthedark · 3 months

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DROWN you OUT

a DROWNED story

Word Count: 2.3k+

CW: religious themes, supernatural themes, LOTS of drowning, depression, brief mention of suicide attempts, blood, murder, cannibalism

Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low.

When we fade into nothing; when we go up in the smoke, we'll beg God for a mercy that he knows we'd never show.

Despite the hot June night, the river water surrounding Joakim felt ice cold.

He didn’t know why this was the first thing he thought of as he feebly struggled against the many sets of hands holding him underwater. He was absolutely panicking, his body fighting instinctively, but the only thing currently going through his head was the temperature of the damn river water. He probably should be more concerned about the people who he thought were his fellow congregates and why they wouldn’t let him come up for air, but he’d been brainwashed into thinking that he deserved this fate.

He’d left his home country of Sweden years ago, coming to the east coast of America, but never quite settling down. He’d gone from state to state, starting up north and making his way down, trying to find a new home, but nothing seemed to stick. He’d never felt accepted for the ways he’d been raised; a mixture of the natural ways with the Christian God.

And then he moved to the Appalachian mountains, where he met The Children of the Revered Father.

A small group of them were passing out flyers one Sunday when Joakim was traveling through. He found himself going to one of their weekly gatherings, since why the hell not? That’s how he found out that these people were exactly what he’d been looking for. Pretty soon, he found himself living in the nearby town, surrounded by who he had thought were kind, loving people. He attended gatherings and workshops two or sometimes three times a week. The Revered Father had become his whole world; like getting swept up in a tidal wave.

But pretty soon, he found that he would experience the crash.

Some of his friends had invited him to a midnight mass sort of thing, to welcome the first throes of summer. He gladly accepted. They mentioned something about baptization, to fully accept everyone into the Family, and Joakim was thrilled. It meant that he was finally being accepted into something here, something he hadn’t felt since he left home all those years ago.

They’d all gone out into the woods after night fell. The entire congregation met up at the deepest hollow, where they had their monthly moonless gatherings. They said the usual words, the usual hymns, the usual rituals. Some drinks were passed around; something stronger than what they usually had, Joakim thought. There was talk of the proceedings, about how the Revered Father would test their faith. Joakim didn’t think of what that would mean if he failed; he was faithful, he wouldn’t fail.

Except he must have. Why else would those he had called friends be holding him under the water for longer than the others? Why else would the murky river water taste foul as his lungs finally caved and forced his mouth open? Why else would the water fill his lungs, making him feel heavier than he actually was?

Through the murkiness of the water and the flurry of limbs, Joakim thought he saw something. He thought he saw a low, red pulse on the shoreline of the river. He thought he saw a pair of matching eyes staring at him, despite a small part of his brain telling him that there should be now way he could see that through all the chaos going on.

Those same eyes told him to sleep, to give in. And despite his body telling him not to, his mind eventually did.

His limbs started freezing up, the heaviness and cold settling into his bones to make them useless. The hands on him started to slowly leave one by one, and for a brief moment he thought about freedom, how he could finally fight his way to the surface, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. His clothes weighed him down.

Finally, as he sank to the bottom of the river, the stones digging into his back, he couldn’t help but think of how he had failed his God. As his vision went dark, he felt the rage fill him. There’s no room for salvation, he thought, Now, there’s only room for demons.

And that was how the young human, Joakim Karlsson, died.

On a canvas we stained with blood and painted with our sins, there's a candle melting and it's burning at both ends.

We'll take and take 'til it caves and drowns us in the wax it drips. Like a moth to a flame you never should've fucking lit.

You can give sight to the blind, but you can't force them to see. You could take us back in time, but it wouldn't change a thing.

When Joakim was a child, he was told all about the fairy tales of his homeland. But the one that intrigued him the most was the tale of the näcken.

He was always told to avoid the rivers without his parents nearby, lest he be lured to the bottom of a näcken’s song. It never bothered him much. In fact, when he grew older, he said that he wanted to find one so he himself could learn how to play guitar as well as any supernatural water creature could.

He never expected to become one himself.

Unlike some of the other Hollowed Souls, Joakim had his faculties after the Watcher of the Woods left his body to become overtaken by the curse of the Shenandoah. At first, he didn’t know what to do with himself, and as he wandered up and down the river, he grew to hate everything. Fuck this, fuck that. Fuck this, fuck that. The worst part was that he found out that he couldn’t truly leave the river; not without running water, and certainly not for long periods of time. But eventually, that pain faded away, leaving him more hollow than ever before.

He discovered his curse after he felt such sadness that couldn’t be expressed like before. He could make the motions, but he couldn’t release the emotions and grief and pain. It wasn’t until he began singing that he realized why. It eased the pain, but as people came to the river, he wanted nothing to do with it.

And worse, there was always the voice in the back of his head that compelled him to do it.

CONSUME.

The sadness only grew with every young life he took, whether it was by devouring their flesh or by drowning them, almost like how he was drowned. Their deaths only prolonged his sadness, for now there was no way he could ever see salvation in the afterlife.

He knew this for certain. It was how he discovered that he could no longer die, after all.

Soon, he learned to just become numb to the death that surrounded him. After all, how could he live when he was already dead on the inside?

Luckily, around that time was when he met Nick Folio. To be honest, he wasn’t sure why he let the kid stay around. He was annoying at the best of times, a straight up demon at the worst. But after a while, with no voices or dread filling his head up, he realized that Nick was more of a balm than a hindrance.

Within a year, Joakim had crafted a guitar of his own making. The body was made out of driftwood, the strings made out of various types of hair. He was pretty proud of himself for the craftsmanship. It felt less like an instrument and more like a piece of himself, like an extension of his body. He grew possessive over it, to the point when Nick asked if he could play Freebird on it, Joakim nearly tore off the boy’s arm. Between the two, he felt like he didn't need anything else.

Except he did feel like he still needed more. And it didn't come to him until a year after Nick did.

HELP.

Joakim couldn’t leave the river for long periods of time. He found that after a while the itch to sing and the hunger to play his guitar would grow. To save hikers and campers, he would stay holed up in his little hole tucked into a waterfall. But this voice; this New Voice in his head compelled him to abandon the river to find it.

That’s when Joakim found himself standing in the hollow where the Children of the Revered Father once stood. He froze. Why would the voice bring him here? Was it a new torture for him to endure? He snapped out of it when he felt Nick shift into the Church Grim and started digging at a spot in the middle of the hollow with a whine.

This is crazy, Joakim thought to himself, even though he’d seen enough in the past few years that would prove that thought wrong. Especially when a young man showed up, out of breath, and when he looked up, Joakim watched as his blue-gray eyes shift to a deep green.

“I hope I’m not too late,” he said.

If God came down from his kingdom; He came down from his home, and we asked him if he'd take us back, He would surely tell us no.

If God came down from his kingdom; He came down from his throne, and we asked him if he'd take us back, He would tell us we can't go.

To a rat in a maze the end is where the start begins, but if we made it out I know that we would do it all again.

We live and die in vain like treasure on a sinking ship. All in the name of a God we'd just abandon and forget.

They'd used him.

Joakim had heard Nick's tale about how he'd been treated, but until he met Nicholas and Noah, he hadn't believed that the Children were the same group. But they were, and they used him just to appease their so-called Revered Father, some forest-spirit claiming it was a god.

But it was dead to this plane of existence and another took its place. Noah had given him a choice, unlike the previous Watcher of the Woods. Joakim asked to give him some time, because he still had things to do, before he could make up his mind.

There were some loose ends that needed to be tied up.

With it being Midsummer's Eve, Noah had heard the whisperings of how the Cult of the Black Stag was going to attempt to reform and bring back their “Revered Father,” and it was a perfect opportunity to get their revenge. It was a perfect opportunity to get his revenge.

And he got everything he wished for.

They came to him in waves. Slowly at first, but surely. They would come out of the woods quietly, their faces slack but their eyes wide with fear, and they would slowly shuffle into the water. One by one, they would come closer to him and his music, until their knees disappeared into the water; until their waists, their chests, and their shoulders disappeared. He didn't let them go until their heads were fully submerged.

The ones he didn't recognize Joakim let be swept up into the rapids. Those he hadn’t much care for. Those ones were pulled away and under, their breath stolen from them by the current or by a random rock they hit their heads on.

The ones he did recognize, however: the ones that he had called friends once; the ones who pinned his head below the surface so he would be the Hollowed Vessel. Those he pulled closer to him. When they were surrounding him, he set his guitar on the rock, and then he slipped into the water.

And with a scream to drown out all other sounds around them, the bloodbath began.

Afterwards, when the river no longer ran red and Joakim stepped foot on land, Noah once again asked, “You want to help protect these woods from evil again?”

This time, Joakim had his answer.

And from then on, Joakim Karlsson became known as the Drowned, the nacken of the Shenandoah Rivers.

We're dying everyday. Tell me is it all in vain? Is it worth the suffering? Is it worth the price we paid?

Is it worth it?

Joakim frowns. Is it worth it?

Pausing his fingers, he peeks up at the sky. The morning light was washing the river and woods in pale tones. The same sky he's been seeing the past ten years, it never changed except with the seasons. Another summer solstice had come and gone with no sign of the children returning.

But Joakim could tell that wasn't true. He and Noah have felt something stirring lately. Something felt off with the Woods.

But Jolly kept playing his guitar and singing softly to himself, humming along to the melody he created a couple of days ago.

“If God came down from His kingdom, He came down from His home, and we asked Him if he'd take us back, He would surely tell us no.”

WE'RE ALMOST THERE. NICK'S BRINGING A “FRIEND”, SO FAIR WARNING.

Joakim rolls his eyes at Noah's voice in his head, but acquiesces to Noah's unspoken command. With hardly any movement, Joakim shifts form into something less horrifying than the drowned corpse he normally looks like. It's his skin that he used to have back when he was alive.

It's miniscule, barely even noticeable, but Joakim smiles to himself as he continues playing his guitar.

“WHAT UP JOLLEEEEEE!” he hears Noah calling from behind him. He turns to face his friends.

And he thinks to himself, Yes, it is worth it.

You can give sight to the blind, but you can't force them to see. You could take us back in time, but it wouldn't change a fucking thing.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #jolly karlsson fanfiction #horror au #paranormal au #series: lost in the labyrinth #fic: tales from the grove of secrets #cw: religious themes #cw: supernatural themes #cw: drowning #cw: blood #cw: suicide #cw: cannibalism #cw: depression #cw: death

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dcartcorner · 10 months

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I maybe sort of wrote something. Set after TMA Episode 51: High Pressure, following a plot bunny about Captain Kemp's remark "The sea is a dangerous place." (Disclaimer: I don't usually write fanfiction and Am Not A Writer, I just have emotions about these two horrible old men).

Into the Ocean Characters: Simon Fairchild, Peter Lukas, Morten Kemp (mentioned) Ship: FoggySkies Warnings: mentions of drowning, incredibly minor mention of violence

He was shaken, Peter thought.

When he’d come aboard - dripping wet and smelling like the salt spray of the ocean - he’d been smiling ear to ear. That’s how Simon was. Performative. But once they’d retreated to the captain’s cabin, once Simon had stripped out of his wet clothes and borrowed some of Peter’s - once Peter had pushed him down into one of the chairs and shoved a cup of coffee into his hands - he could tell.

Simon Fairchild was shaken. And that, Peter thought, could not have been an easy thing to accomplish.

He could tell it in the curve of the older man’s shoulders, the way his smile was so noticeably absent when Peter wasn’t speaking to him. These things were uncharacteristic of Fairchild, insofar as Peter knew him.

Peter didn’t make a point of knowing people, broadly speaking.

Simon made a point of being known, though. And he made it Peter’s problem some years back.

Peter didn’t much want to talk about it. It’d been such a quiet trip across the seas, happily alone. What were the chances he’d run into Simon here? Whatever it was, Peter didn’t want to have to ask nor answer questions. It seemed too great an effort.

“Have you ever thought about drowning?” Simon inevitably asked. His voice was as lighthearted as ever, but he wasn’t looking at Peter. He was gazing out the small window. Peter’s skin crawled. Simon knew how he felt about it - being asked questions. Or perhaps it was because he did know how Peter felt that he didn’t wait for a reply, and went on, “I had never considered it. Not really. It’s not like I could, I don’t think.”

“You came out here to see if you could drown?” Peter said around the rock in his throat that tried to keep the question from being asked. He was tired. It’d be easier to disappear.

“Goodness, no,” Simon said. “Old yacht. Feeling a bit peckish. You know how it is.” There was a bitter edge in his words. Something hadn’t gone right, then. “As it turns out, I rather angered the captain of a ship I’d chartered out to the wreck. And here I thought Kemp had been such a charming man, too.”

Peter hummed in sympathy for this Captain Kemp whom Simon had impressed his presence upon.

“I’m not sure why I didn’t expect it,” Simon said. “The blow to the head, I mean. How very… mundane.”

Peter, in the middle of pouring himself a cup of coffee as well, froze, then glanced over at Simon. Peter hadn’t noticed any injuries when Simon had been changing, no blood that’d dripped down from his hairline. It can’t have been too serious a strike - but that thought doesn’t do anything to snuff out the sudden, flickering anger in Peter’s chest.

Simon was still looking away, out the window. He looked very small, Peter thought, that little skeleton of a frame swallowed by Peter’s sweater.

“It was all very surprising,” Simon said. “You just don’t think certain people have it in them, I suppose. Or you are so used to winning, you don’t expect it when the odds turn.” A shrug of one small, bony shoulder.

“He tried to drown you,” Peter said. It wasn’t a question.

“Hands bound and feet weighted,” Simon replied with a humourless laugh. “The whole nine yards, as they say. Very theatrical. Tied good knots, I’ll tell you. Of course he did. Sailor, and all.” A long pause, and the smile was gone in its entirety this time, leaving Simon’s face blank. And then, slowly, he said, “I’m not sure what would have happened… if I’d kept sinking. You think I’d be right at home, wouldn’t you? All that beautiful, shining abyss stretching out all around, and being nothing more than… a meaningless drop in it all. I think I might’ve enjoyed it, if it hadn’t been for the knots, and the weight. The sinking. The feeling of all that water crushing in around you. Being… buried.” He said it with a frown.

Peter watched him, unmoving. Simon hadn’t touched the coffee yet. Peter didn’t blame him. It wasn’t good coffee - at least that was what Simon had been sure to tell him plenty of times before.

“You know, I’ve always thought. If I were to die… life would go on. And if I were to live, life would go on. And either way, that’s just fine,” Simon said. “But I had this thought, down there, Peter. This thought that… that’s not how I wanted to die. Being crushed. Being… bound.” The smile flickered across his features, but it was a sad looking thing. “And I had to laugh then, even sinking as I was. Because what did it matter what I wanted? That’s quite the point, isn’t it. Nothing matters, not really, not in any way that counts. Still. I caught myself thinking… it would have been a great deal nicer to fall into the sky, rather than have that… liquid cement closing in around me.”

Peter stared at Simon for a long moment. He suddenly wondered about this other captain Simon mentioned.

Wondered if it wasn’t the first time Kemp had tried to bury someone at sea.

“The knot came loose,” Simon eventually sighed, sinking further into the chair. “The one around my hands. Took a little finagling to get the one around my feet.” Finally he lifted the cup to his lips, took a small sip. “You must imagine the relief I felt, seeing your fair ship when I broke the surface.” Peter’s face twisted into something that might have been an amused smile. It was a cargo ship - hardly what anyone would describe as fair. “The Tundra in all of its majesty, and I thought to myself, the good captain certainly has impeccable timing, as always.”

There was still hardly anything in Simon’s smile. It struck Peter as wrong. He scratched at his beard, then looked to the window, and then finally said, “Follow.” He didn’t wait for Simon. Simply turned on his heel and walked to the door of the cabin. He could hear the spry old man exclaim something and shuffle to his feet to hurry after him.

They went up a flight of stairs, and another. Climbing higher until finally they reached a hatch that Peter pushed open. He exited out onto the roof of the bridge.

The air was sharp and ocean fresh, whipping past his face, and as Simon climbed up after him, Peter could see the change was immediate. Simon’s eyes turned skyward, chasing the patterns of clouds towards the distant, endless horizon. He recognized the look in Simon’s sky blue eyes then - no longer dull and tired, but bright and alive - if still exhausted. Peter didn’t want to call it love, even if that was what it was that Simon looked up to the heavens with, because then he would have to think about the times Simon had looked at him like that, and that was…

…overwhelming, at the best of times.

He watched silently as Simon padded his way over to the railing, and then leaned against it with a deep, happy sigh. There was no noise for a time other than the waves crashed against The Tundra, and the sound of the wind.

And then Simon said, “You certainly know how to treat a man, Captain Lukas. Thank you.”

Peter could hear it in his voice - that proper smile. He scratched the tip of his nose. “I’ll be below,” he replied. Simon didn’t respond. And just for a moment longer, Peter stood there and stared at Simon’s back. It was rare to see him so still, aside from when he slept. Simon moved fast. Faster than what most could keep up with. It must have led, Peter thought, to a very lonely existence. And that suited him well. Perhaps that was why it worked, with Simon. He came and went with the wind, and never seemed to overstay his welcome. And moments like these, when it was only them, and the empty, vibrant sky and vast, lonely horizon, Peter felt… comfortable.

He left Simon there. He’d come back to the cabin when he was ready - or he’d leave. Either way was fine in Peter’s books. Whatever the case, he’d have to ask a round next they made port. See if he couldn’t find one Captain Kemp, and show him just how desolate the ocean could be.

#tma #the magnus archives #fanart #fanfic #simon fairchild #peter lukas #foggyskies #cw: drowning #simon/peter

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wh3nturtlesfly · 11 months

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Short Prompt #13

“You’re looking awfully pale my dear Hero, don’t you think this has gone long enough?”

Hero’s head was drawn up from the surface and they emerged a sputtering mess, lungs burning from another gulp of water. Beads dripped down their forehead, cold on their skin. They winced as Villain’s hand tightened in their hair, twisting with the threat to plunge them under again.

Still, they wouldn’t crumble. Twisting their mouth shut, they refused to say so much as a word. Hero bit down hard until they tasted blood.

Behind them Villain’s sigh was laced with annoyance, though when their voice emerged they again held their cool resolve. Hero could sense the smirk behind them, eyes alight. “Wrong answer.”

Hero barely had time to suck in another breath before they were forced beneath the waves.

#turtlewrites #cw: drowning #hero x villain #whump prompt #hero whumpee #villain whumper #whump #heroxvillain prompt #prompts #writeblr

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peppered-moths · 1 year

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imagine this, if you will:

it is the end of the world. survivors like them are used to it. scott and martyn are in the final four (again, again). it doesn’t matter who the others are. martyn is running out of time. they all are, really, but his death is far more imminent. they stand in the ruins of the coral isles.

scott takes his hand. you know what has to happen next. no winner may ever win again, may never survive the ticking of their clock.

martyn protests. of course he does; loyalty is stamped in his very soul. loyalty and love (though they’ve never called it that, never will). time ticks down. twenty minutes, eighteen seconds.

the ocean is warm. still beautiful, despite the ruins of the coral reef. the only fish left are pufferfish now. the world ends. the world always ends.

for them, it ends as it began; with water, with blood, with one final embrace. there is no burial, no consigning scott’s bones to the ocean. there is only red, and a promise to end the world on his lips.

(martyn wins, in the end. he kills the other two, as many times as he needs to, as many times as it takes. the world won’t end. the world won’t fucking end until he’s done with it.

there is blood on his hands. there is blood still spiraling in the water, the last remnant of a life that may as well never have existed. martyn wades in. salt-copper tang fills his mouth.

drowning is very easy when you’re tired, even when you fight it. his vision goes hazy, even as he panics, even as he flails, stuck to the spot by the rocks he’s piled in his pockets.

the moment before everything goes black, martyn thinks he sees scott swimming towards him.)

the world ends. it always does.

#majorwood #limited life smp #ficlet #i guess?#cw: drowning #cw: swearing #scott smajor #smajor1995 #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #anyways i hope this hurts you #trafficshipping #traffic smp #the majorwood implications are fuckin me up again #sorry not even remotely sorry

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oddthesungod · 2 years

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since last year I did Spock as a merman for mermay, here's Jim and Bones as mermen this time around! <33

#star trek #mcspirk #spock #jim kirk #leonard mccoy #mermay #mermay 2022 #stars ur trek #dont worry spock is ok he can hold his breath for a very long time lmao #cw: drowning #just to be safe tho :)

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mysticdoodlez · 4 months

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Looking up more näcken folklore for LitL, and found that they are an omen for drowning accidents. Näcken would scream at a particular spot in a lake or river, and later, someone would drown in that particular spot.

So, imagine Jolly, just screaming like this-

at nothing in particular in a river, and then boom; dinner for Jolly.

I'm messed up in the head.

#just LitL things #the Drowned #jolly #cw: drowning #näcken #folklore

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shylilbunny15 · 6 months

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Writing Prompts

Prompt 1: Villain x Hero

C.W. Aquaphobia, Thalassophobia, Suggestive, Violence, Angst, Blood.

Perhaps this was the answer! Villain thought to himself. Exhilaration was pumping throughout Villain's body. Giving him a true high. It was only an hour ago Villain was worried he wouldn't be able to go through with this.

"Are you ready to give me an answer"? Villain grinned, velvet and malice in his voice as he pulled Hero to the surface, hands still wrapped around her neck.

Hero gasped for air, trying to hold on to Villain's arm. Hero wasn't sure how much more she could take. She was freezing in the cold lake; any attempt to push villain from off of her would result in another episode of brutal blows to her body like the other 7 times proved. Coughing, shivering, bleeding all of this was driving her crazy, not to mention the constant close calls to drowning Villain was putting her through but, the cherry on top of this horrible cake of torture was the ringing in her ears. This ringing that she couldn't tell was from being doused in water until she couldn't breathe, or from Villain's beatings upon her figure. The ringing the made Hero lightheaded. The ringing that caused Hero to fight the acid conjuring in her throat. The ringing...the damn ringing that drove Hero to have this pounding headache- like having a cinder block broken upon your head. Hero knew she was running out of time. That whatever Villain was doing, she'd have to think of a counter before her mind left her incoherent.

"Well"? Villain pushed. "I'd like an answer; quite rude of you to ignore me". Grip tightening around Hero's neck, leading her to meet Villain's Gaze.

". . ." Panting and Shivers were all Villain got. "You know...it feels great. Seeing you in such a distraught state. I could get used to this. I'm sure you feel it as well. Adrenaline rushing through your veins.. doesn't seem to be doing much in your case".

An annoyed sigh escapes Hero's lips.

"We both know I could end it here. However, I'm being patient and awaiting your answer, dear". Villain's face was showing some concern aside from what was possible annoyance. Villain felt bad about doing this to their poor Hero, but he knew in the end, he was doing it for her own good. It was all good. From the plan of baiting Hero in by running into the snow coated forest, to knocking Hero down with a quick blow on the head, and now all Hero had to do was give their answer. Of course..Villain want an answer, but..Villain wanted "The Answer" upon which they were looking for. Either way, the result would ultimately be the same, Hero didn't need to know that of course.

"Take...a fine guess"! Hero snarled, coughing up a mixture of their own blood and the lake water. Assuming this was an answer to Villain's previous question, a sly smile made its way to Villain's face.

"Oh..but I'd love to hear it upon your lips"~ Villain cooed.

Hero's voice grew sharp, and tired. " "Fuck..yo-" was all Hero managed to get out before being submerged into the lake again.

Villain on top of Hero, the hold on her starting to bruise Hero's neck.

Villain's Gaze upon Hero struggling violently to come to surface was almost soulless. Though his eyes held anger, desire, obsession, yet pity.

"Such a shame.." Villain trailed. "Vulgarities come out of the most beautiful things...it'd be better if you used those lips to answer correctly instead".

It was painful. Everything hurt. Hero was tired, her muscles tense and aching, head spinning and pounding, but wasn't it better? Hero couldn't possibly give in to Villain..could she? No one in their right mind would agree to such an arrangement! It was simple though. Hero agrees to go with Villain- wherever that may be; villain takes care of Hero and as long as Hero obeys and listens like a "good Hero" Villain would consider taking their crime doing at a slower pace. Villain implied a strict "no deal breaking" at the end of his offer, but wouldn't that be Hero's freedom on the line? That's it- there's no way!

Yet here she was reliving a trauma. Maybe I could just let go..here. Hero thought. There it was. For a few moments Hero's thrashing and fighting resistance stopped.

Villain seemed to take notice, but didn't falter.

Ahh...but the others. The city still needs protecting. Promises made, friends in the process of being made, many depending on Hero. Could I even call myself a Hero regardless of how many times I've saved the nation if I just give up?

Pain, burning on her insides, muscles aching, body littered with bruises, cuts and scrapes, but none of it mattered, compared to the burning in her chest. Not just from holding her breath, but also from a feeling of determination. That was it! The adrenaline had sided with her body, giving Hero a rush of strength.

With the last bit of strength Hero had, she sprung up, breaking to the surface of the lake. Fist colliding with Villain's nose.

Villain's hold on Hero's neck broke away, as he stumbled back a few steps, hand already drenched in crimson. Droplets of blood falling into the lake; tainting the clear, subzero, water.

Villain's expression exhibiting raw yearning, infatuation and enthusiasm. His eyes said it "raving manic".

As quick as villain had made eye contact with Hero, so had his fist with Hero's stomach. With Hero on her knees, Villain attempted to submerge the weakened Hero once again. Only this time, Hero seemed to be putting up more of a fight, even though it did take everything she had in her to do so.

"Oh, Come now, Dear; This is absurd"! Villain scoffed. Irritation beyond clear.

Hero was burning with rage. What had she done to have such an act driven upon her?! Hero managed to grab hold of Villain's shirt, flipping them over with Hero on top now.

"You're weak"! Villain taunted as he took Hero by the wrist, pulling her close. Swift and hard Villain head-butt Hero, allowing himself to maneuver his leg and send Hero tumbling into the water.

Villain rose up eyes locked on Hero's form. He couldn't help but laugh. "Can't you see it"?! Villain gave a genuine smile. "Your condition is only worsening, you're on the verge of crumbling, I know it hurts, and yet...you're still going- still..fighting".

Hero stood up, legs shaking, breath ragged, and mind screaming to just give up.

"That is why I'm doing this. Even when death has its hands around you, you still fight. That burning fire in you. I don't know where you get it from. So passionate, only for it to become a wildfire such as now".

Hero remained still trying to keep her balance, listening to Villain. "M-My...my will to live. So, that's what's driving you to do this".

"Not quite-"

"Insane". Hero mumbled.

"What"? Villain questioned.

"you're fucking insane"!! Hero shouted, hysterically; laughter of the same form soon followed.

Villain watched, a frown exhibit as he watched Hero curiously. "You're not well..come with me". No wonder she didn't say anything, she was confused! Villain had figured it out. Hero needs his help, to be taken care of, and it could only be him. Villain! Besides Hero wouldn't have to worry about the crime when they had villain with them. Anyone else who dares to hurt his Hero, well..let's just say he would make sure they could never do so again.

Bangs covered Hero's eyes as she started to shake. Not just from freezing, but what seemed to be anger. Hero let out a shaky breath. "No..". Hero breathed.

"No"? Villain repeated.

"you wanted an answer..there it is." Hero began to stagger, holding her stomach.

Villain watched the Hero as though looking at a complex game of chess. Lost in thought. "Perhaps a bit more convincing is required". Villain said, making his way to Hero.

Hero prepared herself for whatever attack Villain would try. Though, once Villain reached Hero, he didn't attempt to hit her. "I'm not going with you" Hero implied, standing her ground.

Villain gave a tiresome sigh. "I see now. It's that spiteful fight in you; suppose I'll just have to tone it down a bit" Villain muttered, tightening his glove.

Maybe it was Villain's swift movements or maybe it was Hero's current condition, but she'd barely been able to see him move before sending a punch straight into her chest. Knocking the breath right out of Hero, sending her into the lake once again, submerged.

Villain took hold of Hero's neck, looking down at Hero thrashing underneath him, trying to come to surface. Hero tried everything their mind would allow. Kicking, pushing, scratching. Nothing was working.

There it is. Like a switch. Flick! Hero couldn't comprehend or think, she'd fallen numb. Releasing her hold from Villain, Hero's body went limp.

After a moment, Villain brought Hero to surface. Watching half lidded eyes blink at the sudden light.

"I don't intend to kill my prize. Like anyone would..I'll take very good care of it" Villain mocked, his voice smooth and oddly enthusiastic.

Hero couldn't take it anymore, the shivering, aching muscles, tired eyes..and of course the bothersome ringing. Hero gave way to the darkness consuming their eye sight, falling unconscious.

Part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/shylilbunny15/744971270168379392/writing-prompts?source=share

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divinemiracles · 11 months

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Those people who use the fact Camila called Hunter “baby” when saving him from drowning in TTT to prove that she “canonically adopted him” stress me out.

I’m pretty sure that any caring parent would treat the kids they took in for a few months as their own and not actually view them as their serious children. Camila would call Amity “baby” too if she was in that situation.

#I don’t know if this makes sense but you get the point right?#Camila treated the Hexsquad all equally #She was a mother figure to all of them and does that make them siblings? No.#tw: drowning #cw: mention of drowning #tw: mention of drowning #cw: drowning #toh fandom critical

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etheravie · 2 months

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The Light Catcher's Eulogy

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The similarities were uncanny. She was in Eden, but she wasn't at home—where the wind howled a mourning song to remember all those she and her sister had encased within stone for future generations to see. Red shards pelted the crying land in an eternal hail and pierced the soles of all who trekked forward to make a willing sacrifice. Where Borealis stood, there was nothing. Her breaths were an echo in the quiet. There was no wind nor red shards. The rocks, stone and debris were distributed just as awkwardly as she remembered, but nothing felt right. The King's princess felt estranged in her own land.

"You lied to me," said a young, echoing voice. It was familiar, but Borealis didn't recognize who it belonged to. She couldn't connect the voice to a name. She didn't want to. The haunting realization of her situation froze her heart mid-beat, which now pulsed pure ice and electricity through her veins.

Oblivious to her peril, the voice continued, "Please look at me. It's been so long, Borealis. Or is that a lie, too?"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Borealis woke up with a gasp. Her hand flew up to her chest and tightly gripped her vest. It was difficult for her to find a grip due to the material and her panicked breathing, which made her fingers shake. She continued until she found purchase. There were dark spots in her vision that followed her wherever she looked and the feeling of adrenaline coursing through her veins caused the edenkid to tremble. Borealis couldn't focus on anything amidst the panic that arose from rising out of slumber, so she tightly shut her eyes.

She never fell asleep. Even after her sister left her side, Borealis' nights remained restless; she would toss and turn uselessly. The comfort of unconsciousness' embrace had never been the same since that first night—when she and her sister closed their eyes only to awaken away from home and in a world they weren't yet prepared to face.

Borealis breathed deeply and continued to lie on the ground with closed eyes, looking for thought within the fog of fear that muddled her mind. Soon she began to feel the invisible but phantom presence of her twin resting by her side. Her expression was peaceful in contrast to last night's nightmare. Their mother's hands combed through Borealis' long hair and lightly scolded her for neglecting to brush it. An overwhelming tranquility overcame the edenkid when she heard a familiar melody, hummed by none other than her father. At the foot of the bed was Rocky, who slept contentedly. He barely managed to squeeze into the room. His light had finally darkened into nothingness. The dark dragon's gentle rumbles reminded Borealis of passing thunder, leaving glorious sun rays in its wake.

After a few minutes, the Eden twin finally found peace. Borealis' fingers loosened so her hand gently rested atop her chest. The gaping, cracked hole beneath her clothes allowed her to better hear and feel the thrum of each heartbeat, the source of which was protected by the crystals that surrounded it. The memory of the jewels' formation made Borealis shudder. The pain of a heart struggling to beat around a cage of crystals was one that no skykid should ever be able to experience. It had been enough to make the edenkid want to tear out her heart to make it stop.

Soft, glowing yellow eyes opened slowly. The sight of a red sky greeted Borealis in a lovely shade of scarlet. Not a cloud was in sight nor was there a hint of a breeze to be felt. The world was still and only moved when Borealis sat up. She took off her mask and rubbed her eyes, internally covering her ears to ignore the sweet whispers of sleep that beckoned her back into its loving embrace, unwilling to part ways so soon when they had her in their grasp for so pleasantly long. They were intermixed with the sound of idle water as Borealis fixed her mask back into place after she drew in a deep, final breath to steady herself. The aftermath of a waterfall within a river; not a ripple to be seen as it lie slumbering in wait for something to awake it into motion again.

Borealis suddenly jumped to her feet and quickly waved her arms and kicked her legs. The water clung to her clothes in a tight hug she never wanted and stained the hem of her pants and the tips of her white finger-loop sleeves. She nearly wrung the soaking fabric out, but hastily removed her hands with a hiss. She was repulsed by the idea of getting any more of her skin wet.

The water around the platform was shallow yet ever present. Each ripple threatened to submerge her ankles and drag her down into the opaque abyss if she dared to take one step forward. Borealis was safe for the moment, but the proximity of the liquid poison made her anxiety race as fast as her heart.

What stole her breath away was what lie above the waters, in the distance, and all around. She finally ripped her eyes away from the puddles to drink in the sea. In front of the light catcher were the ruined remains of her home. Bits of pillars stuck out of the water, left to forever plead for a higher hand to fix what was irreparable. The stone platform that had been so intricately built with love and precision was shattered and strewn about all throughout the realm. Borealis was thankful for the stones' sturdiness while she numbly walked forward, the water lapping at her feet now left forgotten.

Large rocks filled the majority of the expanse. They jutted out like a defective pit of spikes, stretching as high as they could only to fall short of a dream all those who had a light wanted to see. Most of the towering carnage rose in steep, tiny makeshift mountains to offer skykids of all kinds protection from the elements that poured down in an unending hail. Where soft raindrops would once occasionally sprinkle down on a paradise were now unending shards that lacerated skin and drained the light of any poor soul that dared to brave what Eden had to offer. Luckily for Borealis, she had torn hers out years ago.

She walked forward with awe in her eyes. Her breath was just as stilled as the air around her. It was almost suffocating. Borealis felt as though the crystals around her heart had finally developed the strength needed to infiltrate her lungs and choke her from the inside out.

Oblivious to her peril, the voice continued, "Please look at me. It's been so long, Borealis. Or is that a lie, too?"

Borealis tried to cover her ears but a cold, hard hand gripped her wrist to stop her. A scream ripped from the edenkid's throat. She whirled around and tried to pull her arm away, but the statue held her hand with a vice grip. She hadn't noticed how close she had been to them before she slowed to a stop. Through the contact, she could neither feel nor hear a heartbeat.

The statue stared at Borealis with her eyes. Light seeped through the cracks within their body like sun rays struggling to part the clouds not unlike the roots of a plant. When she looked at the statue's chest, she saw no light. When she looked beyond it, all of the statues she had previously passed were now watching her with a hatred far beyond that of what her twin once held. Her despair had been enough to destroy their home, but the animosity of the statues' lights within their frozen bodies may as well have been enough to destroy every star in the sky. Their feet dragged against the earth and water while they walked, slowly but surely, steady on their feet. The sound was akin to that of shattering glass. Only this glass was inside of Borealis, clawing at her insides until she was nothing but a husk of the girl she used to be. She had no doubt that the fellow children in front of her would continue to break her body into nothing but dust once she shattered. Borealis knew that she wouldn't be missed. So she ran.

The princess wrenched her arm away from the skykid that attempted holding her back from an inevitable fate. A snap was a thunder strike in the quiet and the following thud was drowned out by the thunder of her footsteps against rubble and water. There was nowhere to go, yet her feet took her to an endless direction. She jumped up and over rubble and the remains of towering pillars that once stood proud and tall like the elders that ruled the realms. The thought made her blood boil and her heartbeat pulse in her ears like a war drum. It wasn't enough to block out the scraping sound that followed her. Every new statue that she passed moved with a newfound breath of life that the wind she stirred up instilled into them. It was easy for her to create distance, but the symphony of the broken and abandoned was a horrific wail. When she first turned around, there were little more than three. Now, there were almost fifteen. Borealis lost count of how many she and her sister had trapped there.

The wind was too strong. Borealis continued on as far as possible until water met sand; up the dune and down until the land flattened into something more stable. The breeze stirred from her parents' prison was wild, tossing her hair and the fabric of her loose clothes. Each step was slowing her enough to match her pursuers', for even the wind wanted to condemn her and push her to a fate worse than being shattered.

Soon, she was knocked down and to her knees. The edenkid was left grasping at the sand to stop herself from being pushed too far back. Never before did Borealis want nothing more than to break through the eye and reach her parents; to beg for forgiveness and be held within the safety of her family's arms. Never before had she ever been more terrified.

The fear she once held towards the elders wasn't fear at all, Borealis realized. That was hatred. This was fear in its purest form.

"Mother! Father!" Borealis cried, reaching out again as though her parents' prison was within reach. Playing pretend was her specialty, but that was impossible now. Not here. "Sister! Help me, please! I need you!"

"We needed you."

Borealis turned around and shouted in fear. When she tried to back away impossibly further, the unseen wall of wind shoved her twice as much toward the army. It looked as though every skykid in the realms had ventured to this strange Eden and turned to stone just to get the opportunity to watch her cower before them. Their faces were stoic despite the cracks and fractures in their bodies. It would kill any skykid within seconds, yet the ones in front of the Eden twin remained held together by something Borealis didn't understand. The word vengeance came to mind much more often than she would like.

The commander was the same soul that had tried to sentence her to an early fate. Borealis wasn't thankful. She was horrified to see that there was a lack of blood that poured out of the shoulder where there was once an arm. Their other lifted to point at her. It felt like a death sentence, so Borealis waited with bated breath. Behind her mask, tears ran down her cheeks and stung her eyes with pins and needles. "You trapped us," said the general. "You killed us when we needed you most."

Borealis exclaimed, "I didn't kill you! Eden did; my sister created the storm! You all chose to accept the offer. You all chose to follow me!"

Her words marked the rise of the conductor's baton, and so began the encore. It first began at piano, then crescendoed into a roar. Borealis covered her ears and shut her eyes but still she could hear the truth as clear as she could her own broken sobs that she didn't deserve to heave. For a terrifying moment, she thought they were in her mind, whispering pleas that would forever go unanswered.

"I trusted you!"

"You said it was safe!"

"You lied to us!"

"You took my light!"

"How can you blame your sister for what you did!?"

"Help me!" Borealis screamed into the sky when she felt a hand graze her shoulder. This time she was faster. She gripped the hard, icy skin and pulled as hard as she could. The short figure didn't budge. So was to the twin's surprise when they let her go. The wind pushed her onwards and made her stumble, struggling to get a grip and find purchase. The crowd's cries of laughter cut at her skin and the pointed fingers at her tall figure while she ran again dug into her wounds. When Borealis passed them they all prodded and pulled until the horrors of all she had done were exposed for the ancestors to see. Blood poured out of every pore. They tore out her crystals one by one, snapping them off into glittering shards that lie scattered with the sand like pixie dust. It would be the only beauty that she would ever be able to leave behind.

Her body was becoming dust and stone just like the rest. Each step was becoming more and more weighted until the tips of her feet dragged against the floor with a scraping sound sharp enough split the estranged realm in two. It didn't rise enough to silence the shouts that continued to chase after her like ghosts. The hundreds of thundering footsteps were a rainstorm, but it had since become nothing but white noise. It failed to flood the land and deliver her a faster relief. If she was going to die, she wasn't going to be slain by the hands she had once so easily guided. The tsunami of a guilty conscience flooded her heart quickly after the thought.

"Return to us, light catcher!" they began to call.

Another voice chimed, "Let's take her light!"

Within the cacophony of taunts and jeers, a third, distinct voice slashed through her throat and spilled a garden of blood and glass onto the grounds of Eden.

"She ripped hers out. Take what's left."

"Sister!" Borealis cried and turned back. A hand flew up to her mouth in horror. Her twin was standing front and center, with a legion of the lost and lonely. Their bodies were battered and bruised beyond belief, yet they all stood proud and tall with the confidence of an elder accepting their position. Every eye stared holes into the one within Borealis' chest, as though they could tear out her crystals by just sight alone. The other Eden twin, with her intact arm, slowly lifted it to point where Borealis' light once lie. When the battalion began to march on once more, Borealis tripped over her feet in her haste to escape. Her body was crystallizing, slowing her movement impossibly further. There was no light to break through the openings that tore through her skin. She screamed to the wind and never dared to look over her shoulder. "No! Please! Please, sister! You don't have to do this!"

The riot raged behind Borealis in a wildfire. The flames of anger were licking her heels and driving her forward, lest she be swept into the hands of the forsaken, eager to rip her to shreds and take what she had taken. There was no way to run or hide. She would inevitably tire out if she continued to flee, and if she hid, they would always find her. There was no way to escape.

But it was the only way. Borealis pressed forward. Her heart was spilling out of the cracks of her body, slowly being replaced by the shallow waters that beckoned her towards its cold, unrelenting grip. Terror was reflected in the water's surface when she practically fell next to a deeper divot of water, but the sound of hundreds of heavy footsteps reminded her that it needed to be done.

The edenkid didn't take a breath before she plugged her head into the water. The force was enough to crack her mask. She felt the need to gasp for air almost instantly. Every nerve, thrumming with adrenaline, ran on instinct and demanded her to thrash around to escape and take a deep breath. Borealis forced her body as still as she could to stay under for as long as possible. Her tears intermixed with the pooling water into something indistinguishable. Not even the tears shed from Eden's princess would be remembered.

When she could stand it no more, Borealis took a deep breath. The water flooded every inch of her body from the inside out, smothering her crystals and blocking out any light. Her screams were a lonely, distorted melody. The infiltration of any cracked crystals were the most painful. It was the same as fire being injected into her veins. Still she gulped the liquid like a dying man in a desert, wholly believing the water would spare him. It was too good to be true, because it was only a mirage.

Minutes passed and her body continued to let out muffled shouts for air, yet the corners of her vision never darkened. Her thoughts were jumbled puzzle pieces and the anticipated lightheadedness never swept her fright away. When she realized this, Borealis jerked her head back with a gasp. She heaved on her hands and knees, coughing and sputtering until she gagged. There was nothing but water. Everything was clear and quiet except for the gentle splashing of water. There was no death here. There was no freedom.

And then she heard the laughter. Borealis clutched at her torso. feeling as though she could cough for the rest of her life and it still wouldn't be enough to expel all of the water she tried to drown herself with. The statues surrounded and pointed at her with accosting fingers. Their laughter never ceased. Everyone's eyes were bright, which only brought more tears to Borealis'. Finally, they were merry again. They were being given the peace they deserved.

Borealis screamed and dunked her head back under a second time, then a third, and finally a fourth. The laughter persisted and so did her screams from under the water. When she resurfaced for the fifth time, her sister stepped forward. Borealis scrambled back until she bumped into the legs of one of the statues. She didn't dare take any step closer to Eden's elder.

The light catcher pleaded, "Please, sister! I beg you; I beg of you all! Please don't kill me! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"You're only sorry because you're finally getting karma," said someone from the crowd. A wave of mutters swept through the statues, whispering their agreement. Their giggles were grating to Borealis' ears.

The shorter twin hushed the crowd with only her voice. "You are already dead," she explained. "You removed your light years ago."

"Where am I!?" Borealis demanded. "What are you going to do to me? Why aren't you helping me!?"

Her words elicited another ripple of giggles from the crowd. The elder answered, "You are home, Borealis. We are home."

"Then what are they all doing here? If I'm dead, then where is mother and father? They should be—"

The realization must have been evident on her face, because from behind her twin's mask, Borealis could see her eyes squint with her unseen smile. The light catcher shook her head in disbelief. "No... no, no, no! Please, no!"

She stumbled to her feet and roughly grabbed her sister's shoulders. Her grip was so tight that there was an audible crack. Shortly afterwards, a few pebbles slipped down her sleeves and onto the ground below. The fabric was ripped where her right arm once was, now broken at the elbow. "Who sent you here?" Borealis demanded. "Elisia! Who shattered you!?"

Elisia smiled softly. "You did, Borealis."

The world was crumbling. Borealis shrieked when the statues dove forward and pulled her down, fighting over her wildly like she was the last ray of sunlight in existence. Glass and crystals littered the ground in a monochrome spectra; a glittering, stained glass window rippled as it was broken. Her own life was sharpened into knives. Each shard deemed thick enough was stabbed back into her body, leaving Borealis pinned like a moth on display. Between her screams, she coughed up what was left in a spritz of blood like a breath of mist after the morning rain. None of the statues ever flinched. They took delight in her misery. The light catcher screamed for freedom and forgiveness, but she received none. She shouted for her sister until her throat bled, but no red tinted light could be seen among the carnage. When she was dragged towards her parents' prison, Borealis fought with what little was left of her strength. Not to flee, but to find her sister. To scream apologies not to be understood, but to let her twin know that she truly was sorry for abandoning her when she needed her most. For not turning back to be there for her. For trapping sixty three skykids in the remains of their home to draw the attention of those who had banished her family and herself.

"Elisia! Elisia!"

She didn't need to look for long. Elisia had escaped near to the eye just as Borealis had. The elder opened her arm wide, as though she were about to receive or deliver a hug. Her cape was spread wide and majestic but there was no wind nor light to truly reflect the beauty their elder had blessed her with. Borealis was left wondering once again why they were ever created as twins. Why she was the oldest when Elisia had the weight of the realms on her shoulders. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

When Elisia spoke, her voice was not of her own. It was Borealis'. She said, "We have caught the light catcher. Welcome home, sister. I've missed you so, so much."

When Borealis blinked, a krill spike was now in Elisia's hand. The tip was dripping with blood. Around it, shards of a shattered light floated around, frozen in time. Borealis couldn't scream when it was stabbed through her chest, because as the weapon whistled through the air, it carried Elisia's scream with it.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #daydream drabbles #sky children of the light spoilers #sky cotl spoilers #original characters #sky children of the light eden #sky cotl eden #sky children of the light eye of eden #cw: drowning #cw: blood #cw: loss of limb #this one was inspired by a super cool glitch in sky that i encountered not too long ago at the time of writing this!#my friends and i have been writing our own little stories and this idea didn't quite make the cut #i thought the concept was super cool and didn't want it to go to waste so here we are! i hope you lovelies enjoy!

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crimsonwing · 10 months

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A mermaid attack on humans is often very sreightforward. All these creatures need to do is get their target in the water.

As to what they do afterwards? All sailor stories can say is that it takes no time to get eerily quiet.

Los ataques hacia humanos por parte de las sirenas suelen ser simples. Lo único que las criaturas necesitan es poner a su objetivo en el agua. ¿Lo que pasa después? Lo único que pueden decir los marinos es que solo toma un momento para que haya silencio.

#crimson wing #mermay #mermaids call #cw: drowning

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aplaceinthedark · 4 months

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chapter eight: DIE YOUNG than DIE ALONE

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mention of death, mentions of religious sacrifice, body horror, graphic violence, religious trauma, drowning, animal cruelty, angst

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.

I gave Noah a look, the small seed of fear crushed the second he said that line in my head. "That's the dumbest fucking thing I've heard."

As Folio howled a laugh, Nick turned to me. "What did he–"

"Shut up," Noah scowled.

With the introductions out of the way, Nick dug into a backpack and started handing me food. "Breakfast," was all he said when I gave him a quizzical look. I was grateful for the thermos of hot coffee though.

"When did you make all this?" I asked.

"When you were knocked out. I guess I owe you some groceries," he said.

"How about some more explanations, and I'll call it even?" Even though using my food was less than enough for what he did to take care of me.

"Deal." He smiled, catching me a little off guard with how it scrunched up his whole face. It was endearing and… cute. It made my insides flutter and I felt my cheeks heat up.

Was I imagining things?

Thankfully, we all sat down so I could eat, because my feet were dying. “So what do you want to know?�� Folio asked.

My mind went through all the possible things I could ask. Instead, all I said was, “I guess… start at the beginning. How did you all get involved in this… mess?”

“Well, it all started with a cult,” Folio said.

“A cult?” I blurted out.

“Should we start with the cult?” Jolly asked.

“It makes the most sense.” Folio shrugged.

“Then we would have to explain the first Watcher of the Woods,” Jolly said.

“Just… I don’t care what you start with,” I sighed. The four all shared a look, but it was Noah who sighed.

“They called themselves the Children of the Revered Father,” he said. “They consisted of a lot of the citizens of New Hope, and a few people from nearby. They made it sound like they were a Christian church, but they worshiped something far darker.

“The first Watcher was also called the Black Stag, one of many epithets. Once a year, the Black Stag required a Hollowed Vessel, or what was really a sacrifice. The Children were not picky about who they would sacrifice, though they said it was due to ‘divine means’ Of picking out who would be a vessel. Folio here was the first to be sacrificed in these parts of the woods.” Folio growled at the mention of his name, and that’s when I saw his teeth. When he snarled, his lips curled up, and I could see that his teeth formed long, jagged points. Like fangs.

“Jolly was drowned at one point between me and Folio dying,” Noah said.

“So how did you guys come into contact with the cult?” I asked Jolly and Folio.

“We were members, in a sense,” Jolly said.

“In the loosest of terms,” Folio interjected when he saw how shocked I looked. “We were barely considered to be called that.”

“I thought that’s what I was about to become,” Jolly said. “They said to become a member, I had to be baptized. Really, they just held me down until I drowned.”

“I was shipped out to what my family thought was a reformation camp for ‘misguided youths.’ Then I became a ‘runaway’ after I was killed,” Folio said.

“Nick and I were out in the woods with friends, sneaking out to smoke weed and drink beer, when we saw Folio getting gutted,” Noah said. “And then when we went to the police, they dismissed us and told everyone that we made it all up.”

“They were a part of the cult, too,” Nick said, leaning towards me. He then pulled a cigarette out and lit it.

“So we were just expected to believe that everything was just fine out in the woods, told to stay out. while people were just being killed,” Noah said, nodding towards Jolly. “And I wasn’t going to sit down and let it happen.”

“And that’s when you decided to just… Go out into the woods? For answers?” I asked.

Noah’s eyes flashed. “Yes, but not like how the article painted me,” he snarled. “I wasn’t some obsessed conspiracy theorist. I wasn’t crazy like my ex set me up as.”

“Did you… did you get your answers?” I asked, bringing my knees up to my chest.

Noah paused, staring into my face. I kept my gaze steady, not looking away. If he was looking for something in my head, he didn’t show it if he found it. He slowly nodded.

“I found them, alright, but in the form of a knife to my stomach. They wanted to sacrifice me, but I managed to get away. That’s when the Black Stag found me.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. What is it?”

“It has a lot of names; The Watcher of the Woods, That Which Came From The Mountain, The Black Stag of the Below…” Jolly trailed off. “His real name can’t be spoken, so we just called him what we could.”

“The Black Stag was the reason why no one was allowed out after dark,” Nick said. “If you were out in the woods after dark, The Watcher would snatch you and eat you. And if he wasn’t fed regularly, he would come looking.”

“So the offerings…” I trailed off.

“The offerings used to be for the Black Stag,” Nick said. “He wanted human sacrifices. Noah here just happens to be easy to please.”

“Beer. Pizza. Tacos. But your apples are fine, I guess.” Noah shrugged. I was so close to slapping him into the river.

Instead, I turned to Nick and quietly asked, “Granny said that she left offerings. Is she—?” I didn’t want to voice the part where she said that Nick was supposed to secede her.

“She wasn’t a member. The Children were a perversion of our practice. We worshiped the King in Green, the benevolent version of the Watcher. The Children worshiped his darker face, The Black Stag.” Nick crossed his arms over his chest.

”So what happened to the original Watcher? This ‘Black Stag’?” I asked.

“I killed him,” said Noah.

My jaw dropped. “Y…You killed him?” I asked. Noah nodded. “How?!”

Noah mimed grabbing onto something. “Grabbed him by the horns and just—“ He mimed twisting. I flinched as if I could hear the bones break.

"There's a bit more to it than that," Nick said, rolling his eyes.

"What happened to the cult?" I asked.

"Gone. Once their god was dead, they moved to other towns. Those were the smart ones,” Jolly said.

“The ones that stayed… well, they didn't last long," Folio smirked, baring his fangs.

"What does that mean?"

"We killed them," Noah said bluntly. "A few got scared and ran off when they saw us, but the really stubborn ones tried to do stupid stuff, like restart the cult or come after me."

"And you just… killed them?" I asked.

Noah gave me a look, the answer was unspoken. “You can call us monsters. They did. So we acted the part.”

“Not gonna lie, it felt good killing the people who killed me,” Folio said, shrugging.

“And if we didn’t do something, more people would’ve died. Other kids would’ve,” Noah said. “So this is our job now. Call us haints, monsters, whatever—“

“I don’t think you’re monsters,” I whispered. Noah heard it and shut up.

I meant it. Something in my gut was telling me that they weren’t telling me everything like I asked for; that there was definitely more to the story. How did they become what they were now? If Noah killed the original Watcher, how is he the Watcher now?

On one hand, I felt like I was owed an explanation for everything. I had been practically dragged unwillingly into their circle of weirdness, so I should know the whole truth. But on the other hand, they had told me so much already in just one day. If I was going to stay, I would have the time to learn.

If I stayed.

I couldn’t go back to Newport, where everything used to be familiar and safe, but now tainted. Too many bad memories. I came here for a fresh start, and I guess I was getting it. I also couldn’t afford to move again, let alone back to Newport.

And… I didn't want to leave. Despite all this and maybe almost dying, I didn't want to run away. I wanted to stay.

This place felt like home.

"So that's why I think he's the hardest boss in all the Dark Souls games," Nick told Noah.

We were heading back to my house, Noah tagging along to "make sure we got back safe and sound" as he put it. I had been silent since we left, leaving the two men to fill the void. Once or twice I would catch Nick glancing at me, but we would both look away quickly.

WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND, LITTLE RABBIT?

I winced at the sudden intrusion. Don't call me that. And get out of my head.

ANSWER THE QUESTION.

I bristled at the authoritative tone his voice took. You're not the boss of me, and you don't scare me.

LITTLE RABBIT, YOU SHOULD BE SCARED OF ME. YOU'RE NOT THINKING ABOUT RUNNING OFF, ARE YOU?

I glared up at Noah, who had been talking to Nick this whole time. Why do you care? You've done nothing but be mean to me.

Nick faced forward, and Noah slid his eyes to meet mine.

I CARE BECAUSE NICK CARES. YOU'RE THE ONLY FRIEND HE HAS THAT ISN'T BOUND TO THE WOODS. YOU LEAVE, HE ONCE AGAIN HAS NOTHING.

I'm not leaving. So you can breathe easy now.

WOULD IF I COULD.

Smartass.

NO SHIT.

He sighed physically.

BUT IF YOU’RE REALLY GONNA STAY, AND STAY WITH NICK… THEN I GUESS YOU AND I COULD BE FRIENDS, TOO.

Soon we crossed from the woods and onto my lawn. I had shed Nick's jacket soon after we left the hollow as soon as August returned in full force. "I'll see you again tonight?" Nick asked Noah.

"Same time as always," Noah replied. He then turned towards me. "You're always welcome to join, if we didn't scare you away."

"I think I've had enough fun for one day," I said. Noah shrugged.

Noah shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm sure knocking your skull against a—" He stopped when he glanced over at my house.

Nick and I looked in the same direction at the same time. "What? What is it?" I asked as Nick stepped onto my porch. I tried to follow, but Noah grabbed my arm, holding me back. That's when I saw the bright orange paper stuck between my screen door and the doorway. "What is that?"

Nick pulled it out, silently read the front for about a few minutes too long, and then looked up at Noah. He then held it up to us.

"’The Veridiction of the Revered Father’.”

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

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