Eldorïa: Legend For Told

Chapter 2: Eyes in the dark

Later that day, the sun had shifted to the western side of the mountain. Amelia was back in the village after helping Matilda, and she had returned to her home to assist her mother with the slaughtering of some chickens. In between the chores, she found a moment to play with the guard dog, enjoying some moments of levity amidst the somber atmosphere.

A sense of sadness hung over Fernwood, especially as the sound of axes echoed from the western forest. Slowly, a funeral pyre was being constructed on the hill northwest of the village center for the woman who had tragically passed away during childbirth. The news had spread through the village, casting a shadow over the day. The men of the village worked diligently on the pyre, knowing well that it was necessary to burn the body to prevent the visitation of grave-eaters.

Deep within the darkest parts of the forest, grave-eaters lurked. These were black creatures with big purple eyes, relishing in the consumption of dead flesh, the taste of decay, and the coagulated blood. They were otherworldly beings, and burning the corpse was the only safeguard against a visitation from these malevolent and maleficent creatures.

In Fernwood, the villagers believed that burning the dead would release the soul from its earthly bonds and protect it from the clutches of the grave-eaters. And so, the construction of the pyre was done with solemn determination, while the village remained engulfed in an eerie hush as they paid their respects to the departed soul.

During the night, a fine white carpet of snow gracefully covered the village, turning it into a winter wonderland. As dawn broke, the children of Fernwood could not resist the allure of the freshly fallen snow. They ran down to the fields, their laughter echoing through the valley as they engaged in playful snowball fights or crafted snow statues resembling kings, knights, and even fierce beasts. Joy and merriment permeated the air, adding a sense of cheer to the serene landscape.

Meanwhile, the women of the village had busied themselves with the practical tasks of the day. Many households had animals to tend to, mostly chickens, but there were also goats, pigs, and in the two most prosperous families, even cows. The slaughtering of animals was an essential winter task, ensuring a supply of food for the colder months.

As winter was slowly nearing its end, the villagers could already sense a change in the air. The sun's rays carried a gentle warmth, and sightings of deer at the riverbed hinted at the approaching spring. The promise of new life and abundance was in the air, and the anticipation of brighter days ahead filled the hearts of the people of Fernwood.

Amelia strode purposefully towards the river, hoping to find Emm and invite her to join the others in the fields for some winter fun. Along the way, she spotted some men returning from the river, carrying nets filled with fish or bundles of reeds on their backs. However, she couldn't spot Emm, Jacob, Lucas, or even their father, Robert, which struck her as unusual. They usually finished their fishing by this time, as the sun was beginning to set in the west.

As she approached the river, Amelia's pace quickened into a run, eager to find her friend and uncover the reason for their absence. She wondered if perhaps they had caught an exceptionally large haul of fish or if Lucas had gotten the fishing net tangled in the reeds again. Despite the urgency to find them, she noticed something peculiar—the usual songs of birds were eerily absent, as if a silent blanket had enveloped the area.

Concerned yet determined, Amelia continued her quest to locate her friends by the river.

As Amelia reached the riverside, the mist from the mountains in the north drifted downward, veiling the first part of the river. Despite the ethereal beauty of the scene, an unsettling feeling crept over her like an invisible cold, causing a shiver to run down her spine and goosebumps to form on her skin. Bad thoughts started to gnaw at her mind—had something gone terribly wrong? Could one of them have drowned in the river? The possibility was too distressing to bear, especially after witnessing the tragic death of the woman yesterday. She couldn't fathom the idea of losing another loved one, especially her dear friend, Emm.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she cautiously made her way along the riverbank, hoping to find some sign or clue of their whereabouts. Yet, as she scanned the area, there was nothing out of the ordinary—no sign of anyone, no birds chirping, no animals scurrying about. Only the sound of water rushing over the icy rocks and the rustling of leaves disturbed the eerie silence.

Amelia continued walking south along the river, her heart pounding in her chest. With each step that revealed no trace of her friends, a glimmer of relief washed over her. Maybe nothing terrible had happened after all.

Amelia tried to push away the anxious thoughts and told herself they were probably just at home, finishing their work early for the day. She turned around and began to run back towards the village. As she ran, she remembered that she had told Emm about going to the fields later. Perhaps Emm was already there, waiting for her. The thought of playing in the snow with Emm filled Amelia with joy, and she found herself humming a happy winter melody as she ran. Her worries began to fade away, replaced by excitement and anticipation of the fun they would have together.

Two empty wooden bowls sat on the table, illuminated by the gentle light of a small fire dancing in the hearth. Sun rays streamed through the window, casting a warm glow and causing the dust particles to flutter like birds caught in a gentle breeze. The room was filled with a serene silence, broken only by a soft, heartwarming lullaby emanating from a nearby room. In that room, an old woman sat in a rocking chair, cradling a small boy in her arms. He was snugly wrapped in a wool blanket, his eyes still partially open, but growing heavier with each passing moment. The rhythm of the rocking chair and the soothing song seemed to work their magic, lulling the boy into a peaceful slumber. His breathing became slower and steadier until, at last, he succumbed to sleep.

Matilda closed the door slowly and quietly after gently placing the child on the small bed she had prepared in her spare room. She pondered what to do with the child now that Amelia had left after breakfast. Finding the father seemed like an impossible task; he could be anywhere, and the mother was no longer alive to provide any information. The only thing Matilda knew was the boy's name. When the woman had arrived in the village, pregnant and in pain, she had sought refuge with Matilda. Matilda had tried her best to ease her suffering and care for her. During one dinner together, the woman shared the name she had chosen for the child. In a mysterious and intuitive way, she had always known that the child would be a boy, and she had decided to name him Tristan.

The night descended upon the valley, as heavy clouds from the north obscured the moon and stars. It became a cold and dark night, reminiscent of the deepest winter. From the depths of the western forest, unseen eyes kept watch over the village's small lights twinkling through the windows in the darkness. The scent of smoke filled the air, and all was quiet as people made their way home. As the first shadows grew long, the laughter and playfulness of the children disappeared. There was one girl whom those unseen eyes had observed closely. She had ventured to the riverbed in the afternoon, searching for someone she knew or perhaps seeking something in particular. But at some point, she had turned around and rushed back toward the fields in the south of the village. She vanished from sight, leaving only her footprints in the snow and the lingering scent of her presence in the air.

As nightfall approached, Amelia pushed open the door to their hut, still feeling a tinge of sadness over not finding Emm anywhere. She wasn't in the fields as Amelia had hoped, but she resolved to try again tomorrow at first light. She decided to check at Emm's family's place or maybe visit Matilda's house to see if the boy was there. Perhaps Emm was at one of those places.

Amelia knocked the heavy snow off her cloak before hanging it by the door. As she entered the hut, big snowflakes began to fall outside, signaling the arrival of a fresh layer of snow. The children were heading home, their laughter and joy echoing through the village.

Amelia felt a slight chill around her feet, despite wearing thick leather boots with rabbit skin lining. The hours spent walking in the snow had made them a bit damp. She took off her boots and brought them over to the fireplace, where the flames were already dancing over the wood, filling the hut with a comforting warmth. She sat down on the floor, enjoying the cozy atmosphere as the fire gently embraced her body, gradually bringing back some color to her cheeks.

In the flickering light of the fire, Amelia hummed a soft melody to herself, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. The worries of the day seemed to momentarily fade away, replaced by the soothing crackle of burning wood and the delightful warmth that enveloped her.

The hut felt like a safe haven, shielding her from the cold and harsh world outside. Amelia allowed herself a moment of relaxation, relishing the simple pleasure of being in the present, embraced by the tranquility of the moment.

As the snow continued to fall outside, Amelia sat by the fireplace, letting the fire's gentle embrace chase away the chill from her bones. She knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges and uncertainties, but for now, she cherished this small moment of peace and warmth. With a grateful heart, she gazed into the dancing flames, finding solace in the simple beauty of the fire's glow.

"Good to see you home again, my sweet girl, and thank you again for your help with the chickens earlier today," said a voice from behind. Amelia turned around to see her mother, Agnes, standing there with a warm smile.

"Hi, Mom. I'm sorry it took me a bit longer. I was looking for Emm at the river and then at the fields," Amelia replied, her thoughts still preoccupied with the search for her friend.

Agnes's voice took on a low and nervous tone as she asked, "Looking for Emm? Haven't you found her? It's strange because I was looking for Eliza earlier today, and nobody was home."

Amelia's mind snapped back to the present, and a feeling of unease washed over her. Something was not right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "Mom, tomorrow, I'll go to the tavern and ask around. I'll check the market and their house, and maybe even visit Matilda to see if she's heard any news," Amelia said with determination in her voice.

Agnes looked at her daughter with a mixture of joy and hidden sadness in her eyes. She was proud of how much Amelia had grown and how responsible she had become, especially since their father's passing two winters ago when sickness took him. Amelia had been a pillar of support for her sister and mother, always trying to be there for them in times of need.

"You're a brave and caring young woman, Amelia. I'm sure Emm is lucky to have you as her friend. But please, be careful in your search," Agnes said, concern evident in her voice.

Amelia nodded, her resolve firm. "I will, Mom. I won't give up until I find out what happened to Emm."

With that, the two embraced, finding comfort in each other's presence. The hut felt warmer, not just from the fire, but from the love and support that radiated between mother and daughter. As the night continued to unfold outside, Amelia knew that tomorrow would be a new day filled with uncertainty, but she was determined to face it head-on and find her friend.

"But Amelia, dear child, now is not the time for sorrow. Go now and eat some soup that is still left in the pot over the fire, and have some bread. The night is cold and dark. Tomorrow we can see better what has happened," Agnes said, her hand running gently through her daughter's hair.

As the night settled over the village, the lights were quietly extinguished in every home, one by one. The darkness crept closer, enveloping each house in its embrace. Fernwood was a peaceful village, and soldiers were not a common sight. However, some of the houses on the outskirts of the village had guard dogs tied up, ready to bark and alert the inhabitants if any intruders approached during the night. But for now, all was quiet, and the village lay still under the moonless sky.

The heavy clouds that had loomed over the valley earlier had now drifted southward, allowing the moonlight to break through. The silver beams painted a soft glow over the small streets and huts scattered around the village center. The snow-covered roofs glistened like diamonds, and the smoke from chimneys mingled with the chilly air.

Amelia's home was no exception to the serene scene. Inside, the fire crackled and flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of the soup from earlier filled the air, inviting anyone who passed by to stay for a warm meal. Amelia's mother, Agnes, had made sure to keep some food ready for her daughter's return.

Outside, the village lay silent, and the only sound that could be heard was the occasional howl of the wind. The guard dogs, though alert, remained calm, reassured by the peacefulness of the night.

As the moonlight bathed the village in its gentle radiance, the darkness seemed less foreboding. The soft glow brought a sense of tranquility to Fernwood, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was always a glimmer of light and hope. The night had a way of revealing the beauty hidden in the ordinary, turning the simple village into a magical place under the watchful eyes of the stars.

Inside her home, Amelia enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the comfort of her mother's presence. Tomorrow would bring new challenges and uncertainties as she searched for Emm, but for now, in this quiet moment, she allowed herself to rest and find solace in the embrace of the night.

The eyes from the forest, unseen and hidden, continued their vigil over the village. They had been observing the inhabitants all day, and now, under the cover of darkness, they had crept closer to the edge of the forest.

Silently, they watched, unblinking and vigilant. No one in the village was aware of their presence, for the eyes were masters of concealment, blending seamlessly into the darkness. They had been there the day before, too, quietly observing from the shadows.

From their vantage point in the forest, they could see every small detail—the flickering of candlelight in windows, the wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, and the stillness of the sleeping villagers.

As the mysterious hand emerged from the shadows, its presence sent a shiver down the spine of anyone who might have seen it. The coarse leather glove adorned with strange markings and runes seemed out of place, a stark contrast to the tranquil snow-covered landscape.

The creature's nails filed to menacing points, glistened in the moonlight as it carefully drew out a pouch from its leather belt and placed it on the icy ground. The pouch was made of dark, weathered leather, adorned with symbols and sigils that seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy.

As the creature moved closer to the edge of the forest, the moonlight revealed more of its form. It was a beast of indistinguishable features, its body covered in thick, dark fur that bristled in the cold night air. Its breath billowed like a white mist, adding an eerie touch to its already intimidating presence.

Despite its fearsome appearance, there was a certain grace to the creature's movements. It moved with stealth and fluidity that spoke of ancient knowledge and wisdom. Its eyes, hidden in the shadows of its hood, seemed to hold a depth of understanding beyond human comprehension.

In the stillness of the night, as the creature held the small stone and the steel item, a strange and eerie scene unfolded. With a deft stroke, the two objects were brought together, and sparks ignited in a mesmerizing dance of light. It was a display of unknown power, a sight that would leave any witness in awe and trepidation.

In the distance, at the edge of the eastern forest, a small light flickered, signaling a mysterious presence lurking in the darkness. Had any villager happened to glance that way, they might have caught a glimpse of the peculiar glow, an enigmatic beacon that beckoned from the shadows.

The beast lifted the torch, now ablaze with fire, and waved it in a rhythmic pattern. It was as though a signal had been sent, and in response, more eyes emerged from the depths of the forest. Other creatures, unseen until now, stepped into the moonlit night, their forms shifting and blending with the darkness. They moved silently and gracefully, like specters gliding through the trees.

From both the eastern and western forests, the creatures gathered, drawn to the strange summoning of their kin. Their numbers grew steadily, a host of beings surrounding the village of Fernwood, forming an impenetrable circle.