Eylderfell || ONC 2024

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Nobody dared walk the road up the hillside. The ridge rose up from the ground like a bad omen, like the pointed claw of a beast from the Eylderfell, black and jagged on the horizon. The village lived in its shadow, and every day when the townspeople gathered at the market, they turned their heads away from the sight of it, muttering words to ward off the monster who dwelt at its peak.

But tonight was different.

Under the watchful eye of the unblinking moon, the boy ran. HIs feet took him fast and desperate through the grassland outside the village, towards the solitary mound just outside its bounds and the dark forest beyond.

Behind him was the tramp of feet in the mud, the bark and snarl of hunting dogs. Firelight scarred the horizon, flickering torches like hungry eyes, gleaming in the dark.

They were coming for him.

And so the boy scrambled up the path that nobody walked, bloodied hands slipping against the rough steps carved into the hillside, ribcage rattling in time with his thumping heartbeat. His lungs burned brimstone, fear and exhaustion stoking a hot fire in his chest. By the time he reached the top, he was wheezing, brown face muddied and grazed, slick with sweat.

The cottage stood before him. Ordinary at first glance, but the thought of the woman who lived inside made him shiver nonetheless. He had only seen her twice, for her excursions into the village were rare. Those who passed her if they met in the market moved aside. Nobody dared look her in the eye.

The boy forced his breathing to steady. Tonight, everything would change.

Evil must be purged.

He took the dagger from the sheath at his belt. It was a strange weapon, unlike anything he'd seen before. Hilt forged from silver, and the blade a strange, opalescent stone. It shimmered like a bright afternoon sky, like blue fire rippling beneath the surface. Strange power thrummed against his fingers as he raised the knife. He pressed it gently against the glimmering barrier and the ward rippled and flickered and faded away like a sigh.

Again, he felt the sickening thrill of power through his body, and smothered it. His fingers tightened around the hilt.

Was it the cool night air prickling at the back of his neck, or his own fear?

He pressed his hand against the wooden door of the dwelling and it squeaked open with no resistance. The boy inched into the gloom, the glow of the dagger casting dim blue light over his trembling hands. Cool, stale air washed over him, bringing a swirl of sulphur, ash and bitter herbs that stung his nose.

His face wrinkled and he sneezed.

The noise made him jump. He whipped around, dagger flashing in the dark. But there was no sign of the witch. Just moonlight draped over worn wooden furniture: a round table strewn with potions and herbs, a neatly-made bed.

A hoarse laugh sounded overhead.

The boy whirled, frantic eyes raking the darkness. Cold sweat simmered to the surface of his skin.

A shape swooped down beside him. The boy lashed out with the knife, but cut only empty air. Spindly claws hooked into his shirt. A gentle weight settled against his shoulder and feathers rustled by his neck.

"What business brings you here, boy?" A voice croaked, just next to his ear.

"Get off!" The boy stumbled away with a cry, swatting the thing off his shoulder. The dark shape wheeled away with a harsh caw, settling to perch atop a stack of weathered books on the table.

The boy stared. It was nothing more than a bird: a crow with a flash of white plumage around his neck and snow-coloured flecks around wide eyes. But he knew he'd just heard the creature speak.

"What are you?"

"Perhaps a better question would be what are you doing here?" The crow eyed the dagger, gripped tightly in the boy's hand. "By the looks of things, something deeply unadvisable."

His fingers curled tighter still around the knife's hilt. "I'm here for the witch."

The crow sighed. "Then you are foolish as well as delusional." He swept a wing through the gloom. "As you can see, she's gone."

"Gone where?"

"She left for the Eylderfell two days ago."

The Eylderfell. The word hung in the air like an omen. Just the sound of it made him shiver again. The townspeople feared the witch, but they wouldn't even talk about the Eylderfell. From the little information he'd managed to glean of the dark forest that surrounded the village, the deep forest was the origin of magic, and if that were true, then all the evil in the world was first born there.

"And..." The boy's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "When will she be back?"

The crow's amber eyes gleamed like cold fire. "You would do well to leave before then, boy. Nestani does not take kindly to intruders."

The boy scowled. "I don't take orders from birds."

"Familiars."

"It makes no difference." He raised the dagger again; a warning. "Tell me when she will return."

"Oh-ho!" The crow hopped back a step, tilted its head at the shimmering blade. "That's powerful magic there, boy. Do you know what you're playing with?"

Magic. The word threaded disgust over his skin. But this was just a tool. Once he was done, he'd never touch it again.

"It's powerful enough to kill a witch. That's all I need to know."

The crow let out a throaty laugh. "So be it."

Something caught the bird's eye and a cruel glint sharpened his expression. "How fortunate. It seems you may yet get what you came here for." He alighted, wheeling up to settle in the rafters. "We'll see how deep your resolve runs."

"What do you..." The boy's voice dropped away as he became aware of someone behind him.

He recognised the presence immediately: the way the air curdled, thick and heavy with dark magic; the hollow dread at the pit of his stomach. He spun round and saw her, tall figure, terrifying as the day she'd cursed him.

"So," the witch murmured, low menace honeyed with amusement. "I hear you've come to kill me."

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