𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟
☼
❘ ❙ ❚ . .in which a spirit
doomed to roanoke
feeds off of the fear of
others
or
all who attempt to heal
her heart s...
𝑆𝐻𝐸𝐿𝐵𝑌 𝑅𝑈𝑆𝐻𝐸𝐷 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝑂𝑈𝐺𝐻 𝑇𝐻𝐸 forest, running for her life. She had scratches on her arms, face, and legs, even some cuts in her clothes, but because of her frantic state, she could care less. All Shelby could care about was how fast she could outrun this hell.
Shelby had no idea where she was going, she just wanted out. She stopped a moment to catch her breath, not having enough adrenaline to carry her further, she saw a dim light in the short distance. Idiotically, Shelby began to move towards it, curious about its source.
Shelby hid behind a tree to watch the strange scene regarding the Lampad unfold. She watched this creature she couldn't recognize as Solange stands before a large fire pit with olden folk surrounding her with pitchforks and torches. The Lampad held her hands out slightly with her palms facing the sky, almost preaching as the strange folk around her knelt on one knee.
As Shelby listened to this strange woman speak, her ears began to hurt because of The Lampad's scratchy, demonic, raspy voice, yet still somehow feminine. "I, The Specter, am queen of every hive. I am the fire on every hill. I am the shield over every head. I am the spear of battle. Who but I am both the tree and the lightning that strikes it."
A lightning bolt suddenly struck the bonfire, which made Shelby gasp. She was fortunate the sound was covered by thunder and the cheer of the strange folks that got to their feet. She watched as the Lampad, or Specter, supervised the two people bringing over a man tied to a log. He was rested over the new fire, crying for help while the Butcher lifted a severed and gutted pig's head high in the air as if it was some sort of symbol of sacrifice.
"This deserter was found at the edge of the wood with our provisions stolen from the storehouse. Justice demands penance for this betrayal. For he is but a cloven beat, rotting in the mire and muck, as unclean as his festering soul." The Specter announced.
The Butcher put the pig's head over the man's while she spoke, the sound of him crying and the struggle to break free only fuelling the Lampad's strength. She smiled, an eerie, terrifying smile as his screams rang throughout the forest.
The fire began to take him, scorching his soul until he was nothing but ashes. Shelby was scarred, to say the least. As she began to back away, desperate to escape this nightmare, she accidentally stepped on a twig. Unfortunately for her, no one but the Specter heard it, the Specter and her speciality hearing. Shelby looked up in fear as she watched the Specter's head tilt slightly, her smile growing, and her eyes meeting Shelby's.
"It seems a stray lamb has scurried away from the flock." The Specter lifted her clawed hand, pointing right at the woman. Still, Shelby couldn't recognize her as Solange due to the strange voice and scars or patterns all over her face.
"Shelby Miller." The Specter sang before she continued ominously, "Scurry little lamb..."
Shelby continued to back away, tears of fear running down her face. Shelby only froze when a hand suddenly went over her mouth, a hand with large talons for fingers and that same demonic voice whispered in her ear, "Or else someone might kill you."
Shelby was able to push away from the Specter and start running, darting to safety. All she heard echoed behind her was that demonic, scratchy, screech of a laugh that would forever haunt her mind.
