Young Writers Society

“All those people…dead.”

Inside the cramped compound the princesses now were forced to call their homes, Rucy sat with her eyes widened and her mouth not shut, still trying to process the horrific events as they once again replayed through her brain – the smoke rising through the air, the blood and the fire, all the rotting corpses littering the city streets. She’d never seen anything like it, and her mind just wasn’t able to process the horror just yet. She feared she’d never be able to do so.

“All those people,” she muttered in a weak voice. “All those people…all those people…dead…gone…murdered…”

Ethan put his hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. “Don’t touch me,” she said, swatting his hand away.

Perl sat on the ground, her empty eyes fixated on the floor. “Well,” Ethan shrugged. “I guess I’ll go for a walk. You guys seen Butch around? No? Okay then.”

He stepped outside the compound into the foggy and bitter evening, where Kaliyah was already approaching with humble steps. “How are you feeling, champion?” she asked. “How are my daughters? Do you need something to eat?”

“They’re depressed,” Ethan pouted. His stomach still uneasy from the macabre images swimming in his head, food was the last thing on his mind. “They’re taking it really bad. I don’t know how to make them feel better.”

Kaliyah grimaced. “It’s all my fault,” she admitted. “I prepared for the possibility of something like this for a long while. My absence from the castle was so I could secure this compound, in fact. But all along, I was too cowardly to warn Rucy and Perl of the possibility.”

“…”

“I’m going to try to make them feel better. When Butch returns with supplies, I’ll make us all dinner. You should try to get some rest.”

Ethan yawned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just took a nap. Think I’ll go for a walk.”

He started away from the compound, while Kaliyah went inside. A few steps later, the seer appeared in a puff of purple smoke.

“You again?” Ethan scoffed, his face turning pink in anger. “Where were you when the city was being attacked? Why didn’t you do anything?”

“I can explain everything,” the seer said. “Walk with me.”

Ethan paused, shaking his head as the seer began to walk off. “Are you coming or not?” she scoffed. “Unless you want your friends to suffer even more.”

With that, Ethan reluctantly followed the seer through the swampy marshes, his already worn shoes sticking valiantly to the dirty, sticky mud on the ground, leaving footprints with every step he took. He looked towards the feet of the seer, realizing that not only was she barefoot, but her feet weren’t leaving footprints in the mud at all.

“But first, we need to talk about Claude Vilean.”

Ethan stopped in his tracks. “Come on,” he complained. “He’s not a problem.”

“He is a threat,” the seer snarled. “To you. To me. To Rucy and Perl. To all of us. He must be killed. And you must be the one to kill him.”

“Why do I have to be the one to kill him? Why can’t you get someone else to do it? I’m no murderer.”

“Because if someone else does it, I don’t know how you’ll react.”

They continued throughout the marshy swamp, light rain beginning to fall onto the young teenager, but phasing through the mysterious seer completely. “Why can’t you do it?”

The seer sighed. “Perhaps it’s time you learn some of the history beyond our world,” she said. “At the beginning of time, there were two beings that walked Grandayria. Myself, and a being known as Cydeth.”

“Cydeth…” The name alone sent shivers down Ethan’s spine.

“I looked up to Cydeth,” the seer added. “He was almost like a mentor to me. But somewhere along the annals of time, he became corrupted. He became obsessed with power, and began hurting others to gain and to keep power.”

“What happened next?”

The seer clenched her fists. “I went to battle with the being I once called my mentor. We waged war on one another, and I just barely won. I trapped him in another realm that became known as Cythis. But it took all my strength and power. I’m still wounded and hurt from the battle an eternity ago, channeling my presence from a deathbed far away from here. I’m practically nothing more than a ghost.”

“And now Cydeth is coming back,” Ethan pouted. “If a literal god could barely beat this guy, how can I?”

***

Elsewhere, Hilbert the mine boss heard knocking on the front door of his small home. He sipped a mug of tea, his eyes glued to the empty wall before him. In his embryonic world, physical photographs were never even heard of, but fond memories of his family and friends lived in his head all the same. “Coming,” he said.

Standing in the door way was Claude Vilean, a makeshift knife is his hands, long and sharp. He swung the blade towards Hilbert’s head, slicing him in the eye and knocking him to the floor.

Claude turned around and slammed the door shut, as Hilbert stumbled to his feet. Claude grabbed him and wrapped his hand around the mine boss’s neck, his knife resting maliciously underneath his chin.

“Why…?” Hilbert muttered, blood pouring down his face to the floor, stinging his eyes. “Why do you want to kill me? I don’t want to die.”

“With your death, a vacancy in running the mine becomes available,” Claude said. “I need it.”

Hilbert swallowed. “I just want to see my wife again,” he muttered. “She doesn’t live in this town anymore…she left me…and I still love her…”

Claude gulped. “I’m sorry,” he said in a creaking voice. “But I need the mine. I need the money.”

“What do you want to do? Tell me what it is you think you need to do. We can talk.”

“I need…I need the Elymore castle,” he said. “That will be it.”

“That will be what, sir? Please, talk to me, Mr. Vilean.”

Claude winced. “The perfect home for Ethan.”

He touched the blade to Hilbert’s skin, cutting it like a slice of bread. The blood spewed like a geyser from Hilbert’s throat as Claude continued to cut, his tongue and eyes rolling around like he was having a seizure.

When Claude could feel no more life, he dropped the body and fell to his knees, the knife flying from his hands. He looked at Hilbert’s corpse with pure horror in his eyes, staring at the macabre of the monster he had become.