For him to live, a witch must die.
Driven out of his village for the curse he possesses, Tavor is alone. With nowhere else to go, he must venture into the Eylderfell to hunt down the witch who cursed him.
But the forest is dangerous, wild with magic...
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Tavor stepped out into thick forest.
He stumbled forwards, looking all around. He'd expected to arrive at Nestani's house. But all around him he saw thick trees, pointed brambles. The air was thick with the heavy silence of the Eylderfell.
Had he done something wrong somewhere?
But then he started picking out small details. The wooden timbers that once made up a house. Potion bottles crunched beneath his feet, scattered in the undergrowth. He saw a long wooden table, overtaken by thick brambles.
The realisation hit him. He was still in Nestani's house - it was part of the Eylderfell now.
So that was what the Elder wanted. Extend the forest until it swallowed up the village. He heard screams from up ahead and broke into a run, pushing through the trees. Long, fine grass sprouted up in the forest - what had once been the fields outside the village.
And then through the undergrowth he saw stone debris, the old fountain cracked and dried up, streetlights bent over and covered with dark moss. Up ahead, he could make out what was left of the village, overrun with dread beasts. They kicked through the stone buildings and knocked them over like children's toys. And the forest crept closer, vines and branches consuming the roads and the fields and the houses like a plague.
Tavor ran out, past the advancing tree line into the market square. Something small and grey flashed in his peripheral vision. A second later, pain burst across his forehead. A scraggle of survivors emerged from the rubble of broken buildings, armed with stones and broken weapons.
"So, this was your doing," the cobbler growled, bouncing another rock in his hand. "We should have put you down when we had the chance."
Tavor stared back at them. The Elder's words sounded in his head. He'd barely made it back, and that was the first thing they had to say to him?
But it made sense. They knew nothing of what had happened to him in the Eylderfell. The last they'd seen of him, he'd attacked the chief's son and fled the village. He would have done the same a few weeks ago.
"I came here to help you," he said. "The Elder means to destroy this place."
"Why should we trust you, after what you did to Dovhan?"
"We were wrong," Tavor said. "Not all witches are evil. Nestani meant us no harm. And she died trying to protect this place."
He looked from face to face, but the villager's faces were still mistrustful. He sighed.
"You have good reasons to resent me. But I'm your only chance against the Elder. If you want revenge for Dovhan, you'll have it once I'm finished. Just let me through before it's too late for this place."
The villagers looked at each other. Uncertain mutters rippled through the group. But then Hastan lowered his weapon and moved to the side. Like the sea parting, the rest followed suit.
Tavor moved forward, walking past them until he found the source of the chaos. The Elder perched atop the town hall building, surveying the destruction with glee. The familiars were trapped within a cage of branches beside it.
The Elder saw Tavor approaching and its hackles rose. It sprang down from the building and approached him.
"Back for more?" it flashed him a demonic smile. "That's the last mistake you'll ever make."
⋆.˚
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