Ripples in the Pond

3

Notes:

Reminder: Bold - Elvhen, Italics -thoughts, Underlined - WOS [Well of Sorrows]

Eyes snap open under a dark mask, a dreary wood ceiling appears above him. He huffs and glances side to side and from his blurry vision he is able to make out a nightstand, books, and a light. His eyes widen and he rolls off his bed as the light glows bright before vanishing. He rises to his feet and scans the room. He sniffs around and wiggles his ears around trying to detect a noise in the eerie silence.

He picks up nothing out of the ordinary, but he gets massive red flags from the room. It felt as if the room was- echoing, breathing .... Vibrating voices whisper in his mind. Then he is drawn to the darkest corner of the room and steps closer to it until he was an arm's length away. He takes a deep breath, reaches out to touch the murky wood when a hand emerges from the rot and locks around his wrist. The hand is cold and dry as winter's breath and with a sudden tug he is now standing in a lush, old forest.

His hand pulled once more and he was led away from dark woods. He looks down and comes face to hair with the scruffy, small child. Silvhen kneels down, eye level (or at least what he assumed it to be) with a thick curtain of ebony covering its face. Unfazed by its bushy nest of raven hair or its gray, slimy skin. The child step back  and leads Silvhen. 

In complete silence, Silvhen lets the boy bring him to the river despite his curiosity. It releases his hand and proceeds towards the river before coming to a halt. Silvhen remains where the child left him, watching as several beings gather near the first. A loud wail rippled across the land. The cry morphed into a scream of anguish, despair, and pain, as thousands of other voices joined in.The howling bursts into chanting.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" They scream. "ALL YOUR FAULT." They roar. "FAULT. FAULT. MISTAKE. DEAD. MISTAKE. DEAD. DIE. DIE. DIE. FAULT. FaUlt. FAult". They screech as they surround him as he  covers his ears with his palms in a desperate attempt to mute them. 

As they neared, he discovers that their flesh is in various stages of rot. They all moan and stretch out to touch him, but he stumbles away from their groping hands and flees. When he gets near the treeline, he hears grunting and snapping from behind him. Massive tendrils spring out of a nearby tree and snake around him. He cries out as he's dragged out of the woods and back to the river. Snarling, he fights the jagged hold as it fastens onto his limbs and throat. He flails in its vice-like grip as animated corpses ascend up the dark branches.

The first child is above his face. Two others wrap around his waist, another embraces his back, and another and another. This child pushes into his left eye with his crooked fingers. Before a scream can erupt, the branch tightens around his throat, its sharp thorns digging in as he chokes. Seeing a hand inside his chest cavity, he gasps for air and feels a burning sensation in his breast. Tears trickle down his cheeks as the hand opens up to reveal his beating heart. He gasps and springs up startled and alert, hands over his heart and throat and his mouth agape.

He hears a startled squeak and spots a young elf bowing, her crown pressed against the wood floor. A long apology rolled off her tongue and he sighs at the gesture. He staggered over to the elf upon rising from the clean bed. He meets her on his knees and sets his hand on the floor, palm up, and slides it to her. He taps the wood with his knuckles, and she fixes her attention on him. With a delicate tilt of his chin, he offers his hand. She peeks at him with intrigue before accepting his hand. He lifts her up with him, his large, scarred hands cradling her small, delicate hand as if it were a swaddled babe. He flips her hand over and draws in it using his finger.

'You need not apologize. You did nothing wrong.'

"But-"

'Do you know "Silent Tongue"?' He interrupts.