Cronus Vol I : Gods never die

Prolog V

                                            

I had plenty of reasons to fear death, but none of my fears materialized, until this moment. I never thought I would die in this way.

With my last bit of strength, I try to crawl, but without any hope of success, as my body refuses to react even in the slightest.

I was born in this world as an ordinary mortal, without being a great leader or some important person. In those times when I was born, even the stories of the bravest heroes had long faded away.

When I could barely string a few words together, Helga, my dear grandmother, read me the story of a brave warrior. This tale impressed me greatly, so much so that I would remember it for a long time.

Years passed, the child from before grew up, but the story remained just as vivid in his memory as on the first day.

"Luck" smiled upon me one winter when I was forced to leave with my grandmother Helga for a few weeks, as long as her vacation would last, to a place she called ideal for the affection I suffered from.

St. Märgen, a small town with a population of no more than a few hundred houses, was going to be a true test of patience for me. I had to understand the true values of life. My grandmother Helga had once lived here but moved away in her youth, never returning for a long period of time. The house had been sold by the family to a well-known businessman who kept the entire house intact, using it only occasionally for vacations.

In the first few days, I roamed the surroundings, somewhat drawn to the beauty of the place, how close it was to what I had imagined as a child, listening to my father's stories, picturing this kind of place. But as much as this place attracted me, something made me shudder at the thought of being isolated here.

The end of Thursday, December 24th, was not what I expected. I disliked the idea of celebrating. Whenever there was a reason to avoid being surrounded by a crowd of people, I would retreat to my room and stay there for days. But this time, my dear brother B decided to give me a more Spartan lesson: to send me to this forgotten place, where I had to stay away from my phone but close to people.

Since it was Christmas Eve, I had to sit at the dinner table, surrounded by all these people discussing all sorts of nonsense. It was going to be a truly boring evening. Until I received a message on my phone. It was a link in a group where all sorts of strange posts were shared. It was Fabian, a rather odd individual I had met in the group, who always searched for all kinds of news, some truly macabre.

I discreetly opened my phone, not wanting anyone to see, and quickly glanced at the message. This time, he had sent a photo. It showed a person wearing a hat and a leather coat, holding something that resembled a large, heavy book, standing in the middle of the street in front of a church.

And below the photo, there was a big caption that read, "The Black Hatter Returns." It was a strange thing, I thought. Who knows what kind of prank this might be, but I couldn't deny that if it was a prank, it was well-executed. Seeing that photo managed to evoke a certain fear within me.

Part of me wondered where I recognized that place from. It seemed like I had seen that street before.

The noise caused by Helga's friends, who were already intoxicated by alcohol and had raised their voices to a point where I couldn't concentrate, made me startle. So, I thought it would be better to find a "refuge."

What better place than the cellar? I thought. After all, it was a place secluded from any person. No one would come looking for you there, and besides, that place was off-limits, as Helga had instructed me on the first day, always saying it with so much confidence that it scared me for the first time. Those words spoken with such passion by Helga made me fear that place, but now I found it intriguing. I had no choice; I had to overcome my fear if I wanted to be alone.