Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

We Were Here, Beneath the Tree

"And...?" Sally asks with wide eyes, "Then what happened?" she whispers softly in the darkness.

The nightlight in the corner of the bedroom is as soft as her hand in my calloused palm, "We came home, put down our weapons, and slept all nice and cozy," I smile, "With the Evil Queen gone, there's no reason for us to be afraid anymore. Now... Now we can live," I squeeze her hand and reach over to pull her blanket up to her chin, "and you can finally get your pink pony that you've always wanted."

Sally giggles, her green eyes sparkling up at me, "Can I get a pink horsey next?"

"I won't make any promises, but if I find one, I'll tame it for you," I laugh as I stand up, and I pat her on the head, "I already checked for Dregs under the bed when I came in. You're all clear."

As I walk over to the door, she squeaks, "What story's next for when I go beddy-bye tomorrow?"

I pause and lean against the door, "I'm not sure yet. What do you want to hear? Romance between a knight and a maiden?" I tilt my head at her, "A princess earning the trust of the King of Horses?" At this, she nods, clutching Charlie closer to her chin, and I grin, "Tomorrow, then... Goodnight, Sally. If you get scared, just tell Slenda to send me over, and I'll be here to keep any monsters away from you."

With a lingering movement, I hear her whisper, "Goodnight. I love you!"

"Love you too," I say softly, shutting the door.

But I don't leave. I know I checked under her bed for monsters, a childish thing... but I slip under the door in the shadows, peeking my head out at the foot of her bed to check once more. When I see nothing staring back at me, no Dregs, no monsters, no Rake, I slip away and emerge in my bedroom to sleep.

I lie awake for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, trying every position possible to sleep, but none of them comfort me. Even with the winter night's subtle chill, I push off my bed sheets and blankets when I get too hot. Eventually, I get up, grab Dread and Spectre, slip into my killing gear – which had to be cleaned twice after sleeping inside a rotting Behemoth – and open my window.

Without so much as a warning to Slenda or anyone else, I bolt for the ruined castle on foot, avoiding the blindness of Cowling for the sake of making sure my eyes don't deceive me. I need to know that it's safe, that the monster's lair is empty, even if it becomes a habit.

The scarred land of our final battle is the first thing I see. A month has already passed, but the horror lingers beneath the last of winter's snow. Spring will be coming soon, and I only wonder what it will look like when the blood thaws and flows once again.

I walk through the killing field, Dread clutched in my hand as I look from one pile of rot to another. The cold has preserved some, but others have been picked clean by scavengers and corpse-eaters. Large, wriggling maggots have replaced me in the Behemoth that I nestled within. They survive the cold by squirming together in one mass that pulses and shivers as they feast. I almost wish Zalga were here to burn the bodies.

The castle gate is warped and crumpled like paper, having been melted in a flash by the explosion that sent it off its hinges, and I walk past it into the castle courtyard. It's a sight I've never seen before, so I enter cautiously, bow drawn as I sweep every corner and opening.

At the keep, I place my hands on the wooden door, which had been burnt to charcoal, and suddenly lose all strength to push it open. I step back, take a deep breath, imagine the feeling of Ichor ripping through Zalgo, and face it again. This time, I open it wide.

The doors slam into the interior walls, the impact echoing dully throughout the castle. Afterward, not a sound can be heard. I walk inside, my breath shaking as I eye the throne on which Zalga sat when she first abducted me. I look down a corridor and see the dining hall she fed me in, but no one comes to receive me or threaten me.