The Forest Glen

“What she heard, she drew. What she drew, came to life.”

Twas a day unlike the others, yet like the others, it began.

The mint-green grass that grew glowed in the gloom, and slate-gray cliffs guarded the grounds, where the running river carved its path through sodded terrain, threading the plains straight to the glen.

Narrow Glen, as it was called, brimmed with life—a magical nook in the ancient forest of Orocovis, a land ruled by the sons of Titans.

As in many a case, rulers take from the ruled.

And it was the rules that kept them at bay.

The girl went with the wind, eyes locked on the hunchbacked boar.

Refracted light shimmered in the air.

What are you waiting for Lis?—shouted a lanky boy, swinging through the canopy above.

Glendaloch, bartender and owner of the town’s tavern had been a father to Lis. Today he sent her to fetch mav roots.

Still running, she reached for her belt and pulled free a small jade book.

The leaves and grass turned to knives as the three sped past.

Now!—yelled the boy.

Lis pricked her index finger with the clawed tip of her thumb-ring.

Her ink was blood.

Her hand dashed across the page.

The boar let out a low, snorting chuckle—guttural, knowing.

The sound of a beast who’s seen hunters fail before.

Argh! Take this!—the boy bellowed, diving from above

The boar’s eyes kept focused ahead.

Lis flung the page forward.

A barrage of spears erupted from the script, streaking toward their target.

The air hummed with their passage.

The animal heard the pikes whistle past—one grazing his side, leaving a crimson streak.

As the boy slams into the earth, the ground buckled beneath him, rippling outward.

The tremor shattered the boar’s balance—its footing lost for the first time.

As it fell, its form unraveled—flesh into pitch-black vapor.

The cloud shapes into a bird and takes flight.

It coiled and twisted upward.

And in an instant, the cloud snapped into the shape of a bird—its wings slicing the air as it flew off.

What?—lifting his arms in the air—Is that a—

The hairs on the back of Lis neck raised up.

Yes.—the word felt heavy on her tongue—That’s a nahwal.

The pair headed back to the Glen.

Black smoke rushed and filled the already dense air. The smell of cedar carried a hint of a familiar mineral.

Iron.

Blood.

As the flames consumed the Glen, the girl remembered the then cryptic words spoken to her by an old woman the day before.

Glen!—Lis rushed into the smoke and made her way to the tavern, noticing everything was burning around except for it. No embers licking its woody walls.

Untouched.

Ren, go to the river and open the gate!—ordered Lis as she stood for a brief moment in front of Glen’s Tavern.

Flames sizzled as the creak of wood and bones alike croaked.

Ren stood there. Staring at the destruction of what was once his home.

The memories…

They were all gone.

Ready to prove his worth, he rushed to the river gate.

Glendaloch’s Tap, read on the carved wooden sign that swung on the beam above the three step stairs.

There was blood all over the grass. Trees, rocks.

Houses, shops, all ablaze.

Lis stepped inside the house of memories, still intact.

Human remains slicked down the walls of the tavern.

Twisted. Not severed.

Legs littered the floor, next to hands missing fingers.

Rib cages on full display.

Carnage.

The bartender stood there.

Clean.

Untouched.

Glen… pawpa?

Licelis, you’re back. I would’ve waited but, what’s the point of extending the inevitable?

What’s happening? Why are you talking like that?

He faced the girl that now trembled before him.

The shadows covered most of his face. Visible only from the nose down.

His eyes lost in the abyss.

Lis pricked her finger and as she went to jot on the paper—

Glendaloch threw a bottle at such speed it smashed on Lis’s—

Freshly painted shield. She ripped the page and stepped to the side.

What did you do with him?

Him? Ha-ha.

I, am him.

Glendaloch, who was inside the bar, ripped the tap off the counter and hurled it at Lis.

The brass glinted in the candlelight as it spun towards her.

Lis tried to dash but slipped on a hand. She tried putting pressure on her foot to stand up.

But, she collapsed. Forced to take the hit straight on, her body was sent flying against the bloodied wall. Her notebook fell somewhere in the messy battlefield.

Her head bounced against it—the man catched the small head in his hand.

Gripping her head he held her.

Feet swinging in the air.

The Father figure tilted his head. Smiled.

Eyes gone.

Squishing her head.

Slow but, steady the grip tightened.

The bones of her skull made low cracking sounds.

Blood came down where the mans claws were dug in.

Her ears were ringing.

Vision blurred.

The taste of coins woke her up.

Covered in red.

Her own.

The pain was unbearable.

As her skull started to bend—with a grueling scream she raised her hand and driving her thumb-ring inside Glen’s orbital she gashed it off, and in a full range of motion drew a circle on his face.

Glendaloch let go of Lis.

The circle on his face filled up and emptied at the same time. Like a void.

And before he could even scream or utter a single word…

His whole head collapsed into the hole of itself.

Flames ignited his body the moment it fell.

Lis crawled herself outside the familial grave.

Everything was gone. Her friends. The children. Everyone. Gone.

Dead.

Murdered.

Why?

Atop a branch, untouched by the flames, sat a strange bird.

Silent.

Lis noticed. Mesmerized.

The bird stared.

Then.

His body started to change—flesh morphed into a pitch-black vapor.

The creature flew down as if to level with Lis.

It stared.

Lis!—shouted Ren as he ran back towards Lis.

The smoke disappeared.