The Lonely Ones

Chapter Thirteen: Souls to Take

Warning: Violence and gore.

Smoke rises from the white tree, billowing out of the cavern entrance. Artemis left early when he awoke among the roots, blind to the minute changes within. As the day goes on, the snow melts. Shards of ice once littering the ceiling have shattered, thawing to drown the poppies. Above it all, the prince's coffin rests precariously atop the roots loosely holding the diminishing icy chamber.

Even with Artemis gone, the prince has not slept. The darkness that once took him fades. There's a seething inferno thrumming in the prince's gut. Unfamiliar warmth itches and aches, spreading through like roots of a tree. The frozen coffin shatters, glistening shards among the last falling snow. Once frozen limbs thaw and the prince falls. He catches himself on his hands and knees within the clear water. Eyes open wide, as blue as the icy north, to gape at a gasping reflection. The water ripples when his fingers sink into the mud, assessing their movements. Then the prince heaves a giant breath, the first in what feels like an eternity. Cool air soothes his throat, coursing through him like a frigid wind.

Wind. Water. Cold. Dirt beneath his hands, then his feet. He stumbles on fragile legs. Power churns through him, violent rapids assaulting his nerves. The idle power screams, yearning to be commanded, unleashed. Winter calls his name, whispers in the chill that is now wholly his own, as it should be.

Throwing back his head, the lonely prince laughs in a crooked song that reverberates in the chamber. He clasps his sides, breathing painfully, thinking of all the spectacular, marvelously dangerous and troublesome deeds to do. First on the list is not to run carelessly through the fields or visit old friends. No, he has new friends to visit for a little chat and much more.

Waving his hand, frost and snow form a perfect staircase to the entrance. He hasn't lost his touch. The prince hesitates, quietly observing the empty space among the roots. Wordlessly, he approaches to carve a single message. Then he ascends the stairs that melt behind his every footstep.

When the prince breaches the cavern, he doesn't so much as smile. The world is as he recalls; blue sky, green grass, and the sweet aroma of wild flowers. There are no surprises. But the prince will be a surprise to a few unfortunate souls. The promise of tricks and tears put a smile on his face.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

Camellia kneels in the herb garden, tending to the soil. A woven basket rests beside her crammed with roots and leaves. She chews a root tasting of mint to awaken her fatigued senses. The sun hangs low, painting the sky yellow and orange. Although the Grim Woods rest nearby, she doesn't pay them any mind. Once her gaze veered to the long limbs of the trees. They beckoned any who dared growing near. She feared for her life and the life of her family. Now she doesn't have worries. Sometimes she contemplates listening to the call, disappearing into the forest to find Kalen in the afterlife.

Behind her, a boy walks along the dirt road at the front of Camellia's home. His movements are slow, gaze wandering from one house to the next. The homes sit among the wide fields along the outskirts of Eidenswill, mere feet away from those that lean towards each other until they're brick to brick. The boy comes to a halt, sneering when he sees Camellia working among the garden.

Approaching Camellia, the boy calls, "Excuse me, Miss?"

Camellia jolts, dropping her trowel. She studies the boy, determining he must be from the circus because she doesn't recognize him. His blonde hair shifts to the right, barely covering his dazzling blue eyes. She doesn't consider him being anything else because the townsfolk are foolish enough to believe their little tales of protective salt and weeds. If only they knew, there are creatures of the forest no minor spell can keep at bay.