A sliver of light finds its way into the void. It’s a minuscule speck in the swath of black that has been my existence for far too long. Curious, but afraid to hope, I crawl toward it. I expect it to dissipate, join the countless number of torturous visions I endure but it holds under my probing touch.
Its glow is extinguished under my thumb and a groan rumbles in my throat. Warmth. The feeling is so out of place in this frigid nothingness of a place. I press harder as if perhaps this time, my prison will respond to my desires. Nothing happens, but the light remains. I keep my eye on it even as the taunting visions return.
***
The sound is as loud as a sledgehammer bludgeoning concrete and I snap to attention. Long silvery tendrils snake from the sliver and giggles bubble from my lips. I slap my hand over my mouth. It’s partly because my hysteria may summon the gargantuan tormentors and partly because it’s so…human.
Perhaps their blood still taints me.
My first instinct is to find a way to cover it up. It’s a ridiculous notion. This place is nothing but a blank room until it isn’t meant to be. When the tormentors return, their heavy boots clunking on the ebony-hued ground, I anticipate a violent reaction to the light. The weight leaves my shoulders when their amber eyes never turn in its direction.
As I’m shackled to the wall with its cold, sharp spines biting into my back, the shape of my lips is for once a smile and not a grimace.
The seal is failing.
***
If time meant anything here I could count the days. I’d know how long it took for the sliver to become a hole and for the hole to become the doorway I now linger in. It’s hard not to think that this is only a new kind of torture. Nothing douses hope’s flame as effectively as failure.
Taking a deep breath, I step into the warmth. I hiss and cover my eyes when bright flames come into view. Humans are such creative beings. They’re definitely my favourite of all the creatures who have traversed the Earth. When I left, fire was a recent discovery. Here the flames float on sticks.
My vision quickly adjusts and I move closer. It must be a community of some kind. The large wooden gate hangs open. As I pass through it, the meagre resistance of protection spells tries to push me out. It’s no use. With just a moment to focus my growing power, the magic falls away like long forgotten spider webs.
I recognize the alluring aroma of spilt blood. It fills the air almost as much as the smoke billowing from an unseen flame. Following the scent, I stare in admiration. There are five bodies hanging from crude wooden gallows. The vision of callous death brings such a wide smile to my face, the skin splits open.
“What business do you have here?”
The voice is gruff and far from welcoming but the words are translated easily. When I turn toward it, the white-haired man takes a step back, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I know what he’s seeing and my smile grows impossibly wider. The ends of my lips reach my forehead, exposing long, sharp teeth to the moonlight.
He scuttles backward but loses his footing. I loom over his quaking body and inhale his fear. My power grows even stronger. It pulses through me to thicken my limbs and push me to my full height. As my form becomes twice the length and breadth of a man, the figure below me finally finds his voice.
“Witch! There’s a witch!”
I return my gaze to the bodies hanging from the gallows. At full-strength, my vision is sharper than any other creature that walks these blood-soaked grounds. The mark is on all the bodies. I laugh. It’s a deep, guttural sound that makes the man quiver anew.
“I’m no witch, fool. I’m the scourge the witches have been keeping at bay.”
His creased brows tell me he doesn’t grasp my ancient tongue. Yet, there’s a gasp nearby. I turn sharply. Her hands are working quickly to drag something from her threadbare clothing. She understands. Witch.
My movements are swift. She tears easily under my teeth and claws but she’s not food. Witch blood is acrid and sour. I turn back to find the man gone, however, the sounds of his plodding footsteps and laboured breathing are easy to hear. I take a deep breath, sucking the town’s air into my monstrous lungs.
There’s no more witchcraft here. I’m free. I wonder when the others will join.
END