King of the Beasts and Queen of the Clouds

Chapter 5: Lament of the Ice Age

Chapter 5: Lament of the Ice Age

For every moment that passes,
A heartbeat ticks time away,
And progress once slow molasses
Becomes naught what one must pay.

:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:

"Hunger is a driving force, yes? Enough strain . . . and the most calm will deviate," Adelaide mused. Her wrinkling fingers tapped the side of a bottle containing a writhing aura. A laugh escaped her lips, a mere bubble of her old enthusiasm. This laugh was dark.

Whispers frowned, eyes focused on the concerning vial in her sister's grasp. Beneath its glass exterior, the spectral flame pulsed with an unfathomable desire. Even she shuddered to think what that might entail.

"Now . . . what . . . who might we unleash this on?"

"Sister!" the elder witch cried, temper leaping. "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"What? We are to create a beast, yes?" Adelaide held up the bottle for her sibling to behold. "There is no greater evil than the evil in a human soul."

"I will not allow it," Whispers said finally, snatching it from her. Dread coiled within her chest. To say she wasn't becoming afraid of her own sister would be a lie. Too many lies were created for their cause.

She set the bottle in a box on the table. Adelaide's eyes danced with the unholy spirit inside, filled with persistence. Even though she would not physically defy Whispers' ruling, being respectful of her, the elder enchantress knew that she would find a way around it soon.

"I hope you realize that we're not to harm the citizens."

"It will do no more harm than humans can do themselves . . ."

"Put this hunger into something else or I will dispose of it now."

Sighing theatrically, Adelaide plucked up the unfinished experiment and slipped it into her robe pocket. Whispers stared at her. Adelaide . . . What would become of them?

Before they could discuss the matter further, a rustling sound carried through the open window. The freezing forest parted for hasty steps, the noises of a man approaching their cottage. "The King?" He's not coming from the palace.

"Allow me to greet him," her sister said eagerly. Whispers began to protest.

Running ahead on weakening legs, Adelaide opened the door to the chilling world. The unnatural coolness rushed into the heated cottage. And beyond that . . .

The aging woman witnessed not the King but a peasant barge from the icy landscape. In his arms was the sleeping form of a small girl, older than a toddler but just as frail. His dark hair was stark in the white. His eyes widened in fear. It looked as if he hadn't intended to run towards them — the Witches of the Unknown.

Adelaide wasn't deterred by this. It even seemed as though she knew all along that it couldn't have been the King. In spite of Whisper's yells and best efforts, the witch uncapped the lid of the vial. The spirit flew untethered from its cage, escaping hastily towards the man and his precious child. It began consuming everything behind it in a seeping cloud of malintent.

She couldn't stop it. The ghost of hunger smashed into the girl as the man started his retreat, finding a home within her innocent body. A scream elicited from his lips. He gazed fearfully down at the girl in his arms, who had suddenly woken up.

She struggled in her father's grasp, clawing at him, biting at him. Her voice echoed in deep growls of frustration as she took on a strange glow, eyes becoming like holes.