THE LEDGER OF MALICE

The village was warm and alive.

Music spilled through the air-drums, rattles, and chanting blending with laughter as dancers moved around the central clearing. It was ritual night, a night meant to rebuke evil spirits and call down prosperity upon the land.

To me, it felt like the world itself was breathing.

On my left, I saw Mama and Papa holding each other close, their faces lit by firelight, as though they were waiting for something sacred to arrive. My brother, on the other hand, was busy wrestling with boys his age, their laughter rough and careless.

Then-thud.

A pebble struck the side of my head.

I turned sharply, only to find Lara behind me, gesturing wildly for me to hurry. She didn’t even need to speak. I already knew.

Grandmother had started her storytelling.

And no- one-no one-ever missed that.

I quickly got up and followed Lara through the crowd toward Grandmother’s hut.

Everyone was already there.

My elder sister Elara, sat among them, along with the rest of the family, arranged in a wide circle around a burning fire. The flames cracked and danced, sending shadows crawling up the walls like living things.

That night’s story had already begun.

Grandmother’s voice was steady, familiar, almost soothing.

“Long, long ago… before you were even born, there lived a man named Mogath.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“He was a warlord,” she continued, “a warrior so great it was said the universe itself had sent him. From the young to the old, all knew his name. But Mogath carried one great fear…”

Her voice dropped.

“…death.”

The fire shifted.

“He feared that if he died, his name would fade. That younger, stronger warriors would replace him and erase his legacy. So Mogath did the unthinkable-he tried to defy death itself.”

The shadows on the wall seemed to move differently now.

For a moment, I stopped listening to her words and stared at her silhouette. The way her hands moved in the firelight… it was as if she was shaping something unseen.

And suddenly I saw it.

Not just Grandmother.

But Mogath.

A towering figure, born from shadow and flame, more nightmare than man.

I blinked hard.

I had missed most of the story.

A pinch from Lara snapped me back to reality.

But now Grandmother’s voice was nearing its end.

“…and so it is said that Mogath was cursed. He was bound within the mountains of Mufiti. And each evil deed committed in this world draws him closer to waking… for everything he touches, rots instantly.”

Silence lingered for a moment.

Then Elara spoke up.

“So, Grandmother… you mean there is no weapon, no warrior, who can kill Mogath?”

Grandmother smiled faintly.

“They say… there is a weapon that can kill him.”

Before she could finish-

The hut door slammed open.

My uncle Kai stormed in, face tight with anger. In one violent motion, he poured water over the burning fire, killing its light, and the shadows vanished.

He held a flaming torch in his hand.

“Enough,” he said sharply. “You are misleading children.”

His eyes swept across the room.

“Everyone. Go home. Sleep.”

We were startled-but just as quickly, we grew annoyed as we rushed out.

Elara, never one to stay quiet, began mocking Uncle Kai, twisting her face and lowering her voice in a ridiculous imitation.

“Uncle, uncle…” she sneered softly. “No one likes him anyway. He’s just bitter with life.”

A few of us stifled laughter.

But the moment passed quickly.

It was late now. One by one, everyone returned to their homes. The ritual had ended, and all that remained in the village were the burning statues-figures carved to resemble evil spirits, now slowly being consumed by fire.

That night, sleep did not come easily.

Mogath.

The name clung to my thoughts like a shadow that refused to leave.

Moonlight slipped through the cracks in our roof, cutting across the room in pale lines. I turned and glanced at my sister’s bed-she was fast asleep, snoring softly, completely at peace.

I faced the roof again, staring into nothing.

Then-

The wind.

It began as a low whisper… then grew louder. Sharper. It howled around the hut, circling it like something alive.

My body tensed.

I pulled my blanket tightly over myself, covering my head as the sound grew more violent.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Heavy.

Slow.

Just outside.

They stopped.

My heart pounded so loudly it drowned everything else. Sweat clung to my skin, my muscles locked in place.

Then again-

The footsteps.

This time… inside.

Something was in the hut.

Walking.

Closer.

Closer.

Then silence.

For a moment, there was nothing-only the sound of my own breathing, shaky and uneven.

Elara.

The thought hit me suddenly.

I threw the blanket off and looked toward her bed.

She was sitting upright.

Facing the wall.

Completely still.

A faint, broken sound came from her-like she was crying.

I swallowed hard.

“Elara…?” I whispered. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

No response.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t even turn.

My chest tightened as fear crept in, cold and suffocating. I forced myself out of bed, my feet hitting the rough ground as I stumbled toward her.

My hands trembled as I reached for her shoulders.

“Elara…”

Still nothing.

Panic surged.

I grabbed her and forced her to turn-

And froze.

Her face-

It was rotting.

Skin peeling away in wet, decaying strips. Maggots writhed and fell from her cheeks. A thick, slimy fluid dripped from her mouth, and her eyes… her eyes were hollow, consumed by rot.

The stench hit me like a wave.

I stumbled backward, collapsing onto the ground, trying to scream-

But no sound came out.

My voice was gone.

My body refused to move.

Then-

It appeared.

A shape. A presence. Something wrong.

Its voice was not one voice-but many, layered over each other, whispering, growling, echoing all at once.

“Warn them…”

It stepped closer.

“We are coming.”

I jolted awake.

Gasping.

The hut was quiet.

Sunlight filled the room.

Everything was normal.

Elara walked into the hut, unharmed. No rot. No blood. For the first I jumped from my bed and hugged her.

Morning had already come.

I had overslept.

But my heart still raced.

And the words…

They hadn’t faded.