Mockingbird's Second Cherry Bite

Lynan takes a hard look at his once beloved village… or what remains of it.

“I’ll guard the front. We’re going to be fine. We’ll get through this together.”

That line rings in his head like a bell on top of a clocktower. Once a refuge for villagers to lean on, now a coward who could only run from impending doom.

What did he know about the world? What did he know about bandits and their savagery? How could’ve he known they would come at midnight and raise flames all around the village to entrap them? It’s not his fault... He didn’t know...

“Emil… Grandpa… I’m sorry…” as he ran through the field in the dark. Alone.

What must’ve been hours and hours of sprint, Lynan sees a figure in front of him. A soft voice can be heard in the air.

“Halt.”

Lynan, too distraught to listen, carries on.

“Ligare Pedes.”

Roots spring up from the ground, binding his legs with such force. Lynan tumbles to the ground… and it seems to knock him out completely.

The figure lets out a sigh, “Portare eum.”

Grass covers Lynan’s wounded body and alongside the figure, he travels through the night unconscious.

Times have passed, Lynan wakes up, still covered in grass, on a bed he doesn’t belong to. His body aches what could only be explained with the distance he subjected himself into. Ray of light pierces through the window, he feels confused but at peace.

“By the gods, you’re finally awake.”

A flat voice rings in the room. It comes from a short lady. Her dark robe reveals none, but her pale face contrasts her attire. As her crimson eyes coldly stare at the sight of Lynan, she lets out another voice.

“In whose name did you ruin my mandrake lot?”

“M-mandrake?” Lynan sits up holding his head up by his hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lady...”

“How unfortunate, you seemed to be running from a dangerous place that night. If only you didn’t stumble upon my lot.” The lady holds her pale hand in front of her, revealing a knife “Perhaps, you should reflect on your next life.”

Lynan’s brown eyes widens and jumps from the bed to the other side of where she stands. Despite towering over her, he lets out a plea “NO, PLEASE! I-I-I’ll do anything. Mandrake, right? I’ll fix it. I SWEAR!”

“Just… don’t kill me… please…”

“A pitiful sight indeed.” The lady lowers her knife after his plea. “That was a jest, I could’ve killed you if I wanted to.” She walks to the other side of the room. On a chair there’s a pair of clothings and a bucket of water alongside a towel. “Clean yourself and come downstairs after, do not touch anything. Curiosity will do you more harm than good.”

“A-alright…” Lynan, although confused by that statement, decides not to challenge her morbid sense of humor. The Lady then walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Lynan looks around the room in what could be a library. Lay piles and piles of books on the floor, shelves upon shelves of thick journals and documentations. A study table filled with papers, quill and ink. Truly, a messy display of wisdom. To say it’s difficult for Lynan to approach the chair is an understatement. He thought none of it, and strips himself of dirty grasses that cling onto him. Healed wounds can be found all over his body, could it be that Lady had been taking care of him?

Water salves Lynan’s skin. A bit too cold for his taste but beggars can’t be choosers. He puts on the strangely fitting garb and walks toward the door. It seems he’s been in a tower. Tight balcony space and a long set of stairs greet him. He finds it hard to climb down, the steps are littered with papers and more books. “Just how many books does this lady own?” Lynan thought to himself. On his way down, he looks over a window. Trees as far as the eyes can see. The tower seems to be taller than he once thought. Careful not to slip on one of the many papers on the stairs, he wonders where he actually is.

Arriving down the stairs, Lynan finds the Lady in the middle of a business. On one side of the room sits a large cauldron and the lady struggles to stir whatever is inside. The ladle is half her size. Based on what he has seen, it could be anything. Alchemy materials? For an experiment perhaps? To Lynan, it looks to be complex and profound. He’d love to help but it seems he’d be more of a hindrance.

“Despite those wounds, you seem to be able bodied. If you have the time to stand there, perhaps make yourself useful and stir this soup?” The lady lets out a flat voice once again.

Lynan emerges to reality from his train of thought “Oh right, okay...”

As Lynan takes the giant ladle off of her hands, he stirs the soup ever so gently. The lady takes another herb and tosses it to the cauldron. After a while, the short lady offers him a coarse bowl. They each sit on a chair by the fire with a bowl of soup on their hands. The lady calmly yet elegantly enjoys the soup in her mouth. In contrast to Lynan, who seemed to have not eaten for a few days, dominates that bowl of soup. Even if the taste is as flat as a board. The Lady takes a few mouthfuls more when Lynan stops his chow down and begins to speak.

“I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lynan. I suppose I owe you my thanks.” Lynan cheerfully yet softly introduces himself.

The Lady coldly stops for a brief moment but quickly continues her meal.

“I’d like to know my savior’s name.” Lynan requested.

The lady halts her meal and thinks for a second “Ria.”

“What a beautiful name!”

“Is that so? I thought of it a moment ago.” Ria continues her meal.

“You don’t have a name?”

“I do, several in fact. I dislike every one of them.” Ria coldly replies. She continues, “Witch of the Forest, The Black Lady, Ancient Alchemist, believe you me each new name is worse than the last.”

“Surely you don’t deserve such names… You saved my life after all!” Lynan in disbelief.

Ria puts down her empty bowl to the floor, “Those names bare a sliver of truth. For one, I’m more than capable of turning you to ash. Would you like a demonstration?”

“You jest.” The young man laughs and points one of his fingers at her.

Ria coldly stares at Lynan’s bowl and speaks in a strange language.

“Ardeat”

A spark can be heard. Lynan’s hands feel a heat. The bowl combusts from inside out. Leaving nothing but ashy mess on his wake. Upon his realization of what happened, his smile turns to gasp.

“My savior... is a witch?”

To be saved by a witch in a lifetime shall be cherished. For that is a far better fate than one could ever hope for. Known for their wickedness and intellect, her kind is no stranger to using lone commoners in their travels. Be it for potions or autopsies, some indulge themselves with cannibalism. Their knowledge knows no bounds, they live to quench their curiosity after all. And with their immortality, they continue to quench it till the rest of time.

Lynan, at loss for words, stares at the Lady Witch. Their eyes meet but for a brief moment as Lynan looks away out of fear. He gathers his thoughts and reluctantly lets out a question.

“W-why did you save me?”

Ria’s eyes fixated on Lynan, as if she’s recording his reaction.

“Where were you running from?” She flatly asked.

Visibly, Lynan is shaking, biting his lips to the question. For a moment, silence fills the room.

“A group of bandits raided my village. I believe I was the only survivor.” Lynan continues, “Their ego led themselves to send a declaration. We were ready to leave out belongings in the village and keep our lives… but I convinced them to stay and fight.”

He closes his eyes as he continues.

“I w-was knocked out instantly by one of the bastards… and when I came to it, everything was in FLAMES!” Lynan covers his ears and loudly shouts “The screams, oh gods THE SCREAMS! Emil, grandpa Torell, forgive me, forgive me, FORGI-”

Ria walks over to Lynan and puts her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her blank crimson eyes.

“Trauma… I was right to stop you.” She lets go of his face, calmly walks to the potion shelf at the corner of the room. Ria takes one of the many potions at her disposal.

“Have a drink of this” she offers.

“What… is that?”

“It may or may not help you.” Ria callously replies. “Take a chance, you have nothing to lose.”

She hands him a bottle. Inside is filled with a thick viscous fluid, purple hue in color. Lynan looks up to the Lady Witch and says “...if it helps you, then I suppose it’s not a bad way to go.”

Lynan chugs the potion, downs it in seconds. Afterwards, he collapses to the ground from his chair almost instantaneously. Ria lets out a sigh as she takes the bottle off the floor, “He shouldn’t have drunk it all.”

Deep in slumber, Lynan’s mind wanders. To which plane one does not know. Not even our Lady Witch.

“Lye, can you read me that book please?”

“Alright, but promise you’ll sleep right after.”

“Pinky promise!”

Little Emil runs to her bed and covers herself with her flowery blanket, one of many presents from her big brother Lynan. Lynan pulls a chair right beside her bed. He opens a rugged book. “Mockingbirds and the Raven”, Emil’s favorite.

Once upon a time, there was once a flock of mockingbirds. Everyday they worked hard to gather food for themselves. Among them, one stood out more than the others. For it had white plumage, brighter and fairer than the rest. White mockingbird’s wings were the biggest among them and could fly longer. He would gather the most foods, and the flock would praise him constantly. For every praise he got, the more arrogant he became. He would constantly stray from the others to gather food, from even more daring places than the last. The wise mockingbird would scold him.

“It’s rash to stray afar. What would you do if we couldn’t help?”

“HAH!” white mockingbird exclaimed “With my wings, I could withstand even the storm!”

One day, while they were out gathering, white mockingbird strayed too far from the others. In search of food, he noticed a big tree. With fruits plumpest he had ever seen. Upon a closer look, he tried one and found the fruit to be delicious.

“I should take one for the others, they would praise me even more!”

As White mockingbird readied to take flight, a raven zipped up behind him and rendered his back. He fell to the ground where the raven then held him there.

“What do we have here? Little mockingbird?”

“P-p-please, spare me, you may take the fruit from me.”

“That fruit is not what matters. What matters is where. This is MY tree. Little mockingbird like you shouldn’t be anywhere near.”

“Yes… I understand.”

“Good, leave and NEVER COME BACK!”

Once the raven let go of the white mockingbird, he hastily flew away. On his flight back, he felt ashamed… no… anger. He was ridiculed that was clear to him. His pride led him to come back and take the other fruit from the tree. In a bush, white mockingbird awaited till the raven flew away. A moment later, white mockingbird took his chance and regained his so-called pride.

The day was getting dark. At the nest, everyone rejoiced. The fruit he brought was indeed the most delicious. Pale in comparison to seeds and worms the others gathered. Every bird, once again, praised the white mockingbird as he held his head high.

Suddenly, a gust of wind could be felt, and the raven emerged from the shadows.

“HARK! FOOLISH MOCKINGBIRDS!”

The raven glided over the nest and let out a terrifying voice.

“One among you stole a fruit from MY tree. When the sun rises the next day, I shall ravage your nest till NOTHING LEFT!”

The raven left them with a chilling revelation. The flock bickered amongst themselves. Wise mockingbird stood out and shouted.

“We shall leave our food and nest tonight! The raven will be satiated by them.”

“No,” objected white mockingbird, “Take a look at my back, see the scar? His words may be bold however he’s nothing but. Together, I believe we can defeat him.”

“I’ll keep you safe. We’ll fight him as a flock.”

The sun had risen. The mockingbirds prepared themselves for the skirmish. The raven, agile as he was, emerged with great speed, snapping the branch that the nest was laying on. It took the mockingbirds by surprise. The raven, with his claw, rendered his adversaries one by one. And one by one, they fell to the earth. In a flash, the flock of mockingbirds were no more… except for one.

“Why did you spare me?” White mockingbird, seeing his end was near.

“Take a look at your flock, foolish mockingbird,” the raven continued. “You couldn’t swallow your pride and led your flock to their doom. Pray tell, what was it worth?”

The foolish mockingbird was too terrified to reply.

“Live on… and live up to your guilt… foolish mockingbird.”

“Hm, isn’t this too scary for you?” Lynan asked in confusion.

“Really? I like it though.” Little Emil answered in an innocent tone.

“Well regardless, you should go to sleep.” Lynan said in his caring brother tone. He gets up from his chair, kisses Emil’s forehead. Couldn’t help but to pat her head and continue, “Once the merchant comes with new collections, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“But, Lye, I’ll be dead tomorrow.”

“...um what did you say?”

“I’ll be dead tomorrow. The bandits will come and burn the village. They will kill me and the others. Grandpa Torell is going to hold, but they'll stab him on his neck.” Emil stares at Lynan.

Lynan is shaken, his eyes widen and clenches his knuckles.

“Why did you want to fight, Lye?” Emil asked while tilting her head to one side. “Surely you didn’t lead us to our doom because of your pride… right, Lye?”

Ignoring her question, Lynan runs to the door trying to escape. Only to find Emil’s room on the other side. He is sure that was the only door.

“What are you doing? I thought a big bro can solve any problem.” Emil takes her doll and shows it to Lynan “Look! You fixed Mrs. Elizabeth!”

Lynan, frozen in place, looks away to the other side of the room. With great speed, he flies forward to the window and crash lands himself into another Emil’s room.

“Lye… look at me…” Requested Emil.

On the floor, exasperated, Lynan takes a glance at his beloved sister. Lo and behold, her face has melted, skins are no more, only burnt flesh and bones remain. Her downy hair, tended by grandpa Torell, is nowhere to be seen. River of blood comes pouring from her bed. Blood curdling screams from outside can be heard. “Why, Lynan?” in unison. “Why… why… why…”

“Why didn’t you die with us?”

“I… I…”

Emil lets out a soft cry, “It hurts, Lye… It really hurts.”

“I didn’t… mean…”

“Grandpa… was scared… too…” Her words are more distorted than the last.

Lynan faces the bloodied floor and shrieks.

“I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF!”

Lynan, still shaken, grits his teeth and after a moment of silence, he replies.

“At first, those praises meant nothing to me… but I grew to love it. Lynan the Wind, they called me. I was agile, faster than the other men. In hunts, I would take little time to score my first kill. The sensation of pride was intoxicating. In a short time, I braved myself against bears and wolves alike. Just to feel that sensation.”

He raises his voice, “Then those DAMNED Northsmen came to our forest claiming it for their own! Leaving NOTHING for us to hunt! As a retaliation, I nicked one of their scores… but I was caught. They shamed me, ‘You? The fastest? A pig runs faster than you are.’ I loathe that moment. I hate it with every piece of my soul. That day, I swore they would taste my revenge.”

“When the sun was still out of the sky, I stealthy approached their camp. Not only did I take their score. I set their tents ablaze, burning them in their sleep. Joyfully I pranced back to the village. Knowing they got what they deserved, it gave me a sense of accomplishment.”

Lynan slowly but surely stands up and faces crimson Emil, who is still on her bed, listening to the revelation.

“When they sent us the message, that declaration was insulting. I couldn’t POSSIBLY run away, not when they thought they could get away with it…. But I couldn’t do it alone.”

“So...” Emil, whose face melted, blankly stares at Lynan

“That’s right, Emil.”

Lynan reluctantly walks to her bedside, all the while tears start streaming down.

“Your foolish brother was prideful.”

“Your foolish brother is a murderer.”

“Your foolish brother… led you to your death...”

By the bedside, he hugs Emil tightly. Knowing this is the last time he’ll ever see her again.

“Forgive me, Emil. Forgive your foolish brother.”

Lynan cries and cries for forgiveness till his voice gives out. Engulfed with grief, in his mind, he recalls the times they were together. Making flower crowns in the fields, the time Emil tried baking a bread. Ever since their parents left them, all they had was each other. All Lynan had was Emil.

“I... forgive you... Lye.”

Surprised by what he heard, Lynan looks at Emil’s melted face in disbelief.

“Remember… when I broke… your vase… I was scared you’d scold me… but you didn’t. You said… it was because… I was sorry…”

Emil used all her strength to pat Lynan’s head.

“You are sorry… aren’t you?... I forgive you...!”

“Emil…” says Lynan while holding back tears.

“Live on… and live up to your guilt… foolish brother!”

Lynan, on the floor, wakes up from the potion induced nightmare. He scouts his surroundings to find the day has gone dark. Lady Witch Ria, at her seat by the fire, stares blankly at him. It seems she was waiting for him to wake up. He regained his consciousness and so she asks,

“What kind of dream did you have?”

Lynan breaks a chuckle “I just woke up from a nightmare, could you at least wait for me till I have my bearing?”

“I didn’t order you to drink the entire potion.” Ria coarsely replies. “Pray tell, .”

As Lynan gains his ground, Ria walks over to the cauldron for yet another soup. By the fire, with a bowl of soup in hand, Lynan vividly recalls his nightmare. Little details are not missed. It is clear to see Lynan dislikes his retell but he continues regardless. Even Lady Witch Ria notices.

“...And that’s how it ends.” Lynan rustles his white hair.

“Interesting. How unfortunate you didn’t take the potion within control variables; however, this finding is valuable.” Lady Witch Ria rubs her chin. “Hm, why did you lie to, in your words, your savior?”

“How could I possibly admit murder of my own village to a stranger? Regardless of whether they saved me?” He says as he brushes his white hair.

“Understandable.” Ria takes a sip of her soup, “I suppose tomorrow you shall be off?”

“On the contrary,” Lynan exclaims. “You mended my wounds and let me face reality. To even see my little sister again, no mere person would give me such an opportunity.” He stands up, looks at The Lady Witch and lets out a request.

“Let me serve you for the rest of my life!”

Ria coldly stares at his face. “Associating yourself with a witch is never wise.”

“Perhaps,” Lynan replies. “But I’m merely associating myself with my savior.”