The Encounter
1473 Words
“Did you see his face when he woke up!” Heliot was laughing in between words.
“God! It was so precious. Pretty sure he's never been beaten before.” He stopped walking and held Salvor’s shoulder.
“We should do that again sometime,” he said before bursting into laughter once more.
“C'mon, Heliot, get a grip on yourself! Your actions placed us in this position!”
Salvor was getting irritated as they walked through the woods towards Mr. Woodsworth’s cottage to serve their supposed punishment.
“My actions?” Heliot said, stepping ahead, visibly upset.
“I saved your ass from those mouth-dripping assholes. The least I can get is a thank you!”
“Heliot!” Salvor bellowed, but Heliot only walked faster, cutting his way through the forest like he was being chased by a burning torch.
Salvor sighed and kept to his own pace.
He needed time to think things through.
He continued walking toward the master house, the forest’s nature stinging his ears with every call.
Heliot had a point. Those jerks needed to be taught a lesson.
But still, it only made his chances with Melisandre less plausible.
She'd just see me as some rude brute who doesn't deserve her love.
That would be disastrous. I'd lose her forever.
Is she worth your love that much?
The thought wasn’t his.
It felt like a separate voice echoing inside—familiar yet distinct, as if someone else was speaking through his mind.
“Of course! She means everything to me,” he replied inwardly, unaware he had answered out loud.
Bummer. You really are one hopeless romantic.
“No… I just need more…”
He paused suddenly.
He could have sworn—this wasn’t normal thought.
It wasn’t just a racing mind.
It felt like conversation.
Like a dialogue happening within, but one voice wasn’t his.
His thoughts were being responded to.
A different tone. A different presence.
“What did you say to me?” he whispered shakily, suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was.
He turned around, half-expecting to catch some uncensored eyes peeking through the trees.
But he was only met with the whistling and creaking of the woods.
Still… it didn’t feel like confusion. Not delusion either.
He knew what being out of sorts felt like—and this wasn’t it.
Was he drugged? Was he hallucinating?
He tried to retrace his steps, questioning if he’d taken anything strange.
But before he could go too deep—
A sound.
A giggle.
Light. Soft. Feminine.
Not imagined. Not from within.
There was no way his mind had conjured that.
He spun around again.
Eyes scanning. Panic rising.
And just when he was about to scream—
“Look what I found!”
Heliot burst out from an enclosure, laughing hysterically, dangling a rabbit’s remains before him.
“What the f**k, Heliot!”
Salvor shrieked, nearly stumbling backward.
Heliot grinned, clearly amused.
“What? You look like you saw a ghost!”
Salvor’s voice dropped, almost inaudible.
“Did you… see her?”
Heliot blinked, confused.
“See who?” His arms lowered, rabbit still in hand.
“Did you… hear her?”
Salvor’s voice cracked. His face looked pale—his eyes distant.
Heliot stared at him, saying nothing at first.
Then, with a tilt of his head, he asked, “Are you hallucinating?”
“You don’t get it, Heliot. I—”
Before Salvor could finish, Heliot wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him close, steering him toward the cottage.
“Oh, but I got it,” Heliot said with a grin.
“I got the sweetest rabbit of the season that’ll make the sweetest soup of all time!”
***********************
That night, at Old Woodsworth’s little cottage—after helping the former headmaster of their school with his chores, which included scrubbing the floor, chasing away rodents and other annoying pests, setting new traps, clearing the bushes surrounding the house, washing his restroom, and polishing his old sandals and shoes with charcoal—they fetched firewood and built a small bonfire. Around it, they sat and smoked the poor little rabbit Heliot had caught earlier.
“Good sir Woodsworth,” Heliot began with a smirk, “mind you believe that dear Salvor here had the strangest encounter of one in a millennium today?”
“Oh, stop with your bullshit already, Heliot! What point are you trying to make?” Salvor snapped, unimpressed by the tone of mockery in Heliot’s voice.
Woodsworth cleared his throat and turned to Salvor, who wore a pissed-off face while roasting his chunk of rabbit by the fire.
“Now boy,” the old man said, his voice coarse and fragile as he picked his words slowly, “what kind of encounter is he talking about?”
“He believes he heard some siren voice telling him to come get s*****d!” Heliot burst out laughing.
“Now, Heliot, don’t be a rusty cunt. Behave yourself for once!” Woodsworth scolded before turning back to Salvor. “Is what he said true?”
“I thought I heard something…” was all Salvor could muster.
Old Woodsworth sighed deeply and looked into the fire.
“Lady of Thorns,” he said simply.
“Who the hell is the Lady of Thorns?” Heliot asked, eyeing the old man.
“Myth has it she was some elegant creature who lurks in the shadows of the woods, in search of a long-lost love,” Woodsworth began. “She sings a beautiful but dangerous sonorous song to lure in minds she considers the noblest... and she steals the soul of whosoever answers her calling.”
The boys both stared, mouth agape, at the old man for what felt like a millennium—until Heliot snapped out of the trance.
“You hear that, Salvor? Seems you’ve got a new secret lover. You won’t be needing Melisandre after all—once your soul’s been stolen and sealed in some gourd!”
“Oh, shut the f**k up, Heliot,” Salvor growled, tossing a stone into the fire and watching it hiss.
“It’s a matter of time now,” Heliot snickered. Then he turned to Woodsworth. “Pray tell, good sir Woodsworth. You are aware of this mysterious song!”
That made the old man cackle.
“It’s just a tale to scare kids to bed—or into compliance. Nothing short of good folklore…” He paused. “But the song…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “The title was Echoes in the Shadows.”
Then he began to sing.
His voice turned cold and grim, devoid of the slightest gleam, leaving the air hollow and quiet—like death itself had visited the companions of the nightfire.
---
🎵
In twilight's hush, where shadows play
I search for thee, my love, astray
Through forest dark, where ancient secrets sleep
My heart doth beat, my soul doth weep
Oh, noble heart, with courage true
Hear my call, and follow anew
In darkness deep, I'll find thee mine
Forever bound, in love's sweet shrine
The wind whispers tales of days gone by
When love was pure, and hearts did fly
In moonlit glades, we danced with glee
Now, only echoes remain of thee
Oh, noble heart, with courage true
Hear my call, and follow anew
In darkness deep, I'll find thee mine
Forever bound, in love's sweet shrine
Beware, mortal, of my song
Lest thou succumb, and thy soul be gone
Yet, if thou darest, take my hand
Together we'll dance, in this mystic land
Oh, noble heart, with courage true
Hear my call, and follow anew
In darkness deep, I'll find thee mine
Forever bound, in love's sweet shrine
🎵
---
Just before the final note, Heliot had mastered the chorus and kept repeating it in a haunting voice, trying to scare Salvor:
“I’ll find thee mine… forever bound… in love’s sweet shrine…”
Salvor, on the other hand, just stared into the fire, battling his thoughts.
The voice in his head then—it was calm. Soft. Like a fresh spring breaking during autumn. So gentle, he’d lost cognizance of its presence. It wasn’t singing… it was speaking to him. In his own words? Or hers? Or both?
Was he feeling lightheaded—or drowsy?
His eyes grew heavy, as Heliot’s murky voice kept bouncing back:
“I’ll find thee mine… forever bound…”
And he could’ve sworn—
He saw a face.
Peeking from behind a tree.
Eyes glowing radiantly.
Hair as white as snow, covering part of her resplendent face.
Lips so red… he could taste the blood.
“In love’s sweet shrine…”
Then the cover of darkness swept over him in its soothing embrace.
- Writer
