Pale Ashes

The villagers of Fabelwesen murmured amongst one another, looking towards the road that led out of their humble town, stretching through the crumbling rock wall that had once stood tall amidst the tall waving grasses, and entering into the dark, twisted woods, the bark of the trees gnarled and black. Their twisted branches stretched out towards the sky, the canopy thick with sharp leaves and thorns.

“She is coming.” one of the elders whispered, the parents shepherding their children back into their homes as the men and women who had none stayed outside, watching the forest as the sun began to slowly dip into the horizon, orange light the color of flame lighting up the windows of their homes. She was never the same person, but the physical features were always similar. Light hair, skin the color of milk, and eyes that were hauntingly cold. Sometimes, She was an old woman, bent over, and carrying a large basket, a blanket folded over it and tacked down to the wicker, leaving the children curious as to what she brought. Other times, it would be a middle aged woman, her hair tied back into a bun. But the pattern was always the same. Once, every five years, She would come. And the creatures that would terrorize the woods would follow, their bent and broken forms stalking the streets, their ragged breaths causing men, women, and children to huddle in their homes to await the coming sunrise.

They watched with stern faces as She stepped out of the forest, the wind kicking up and tugging at her cloak, woven from soft fleece and dyed the most vibrant red anyone had ever seen. Her pale hair curled in the wind, almost the color of snow, and her soft blue dress peaked out through her cloak, making her already milky skin appear white. The men began to murmur amongst themselves, whispering things like, “....Banshee. She must be…” “No, she must be a Wight.” “She’s obviously a Forest spirit, sent to bring us misfortune.”

The women amongst them shushed them harshly, the woman making her way towards the village, something tucked into her cloak, both arms wrapped around it almost like a child carrying a ball. Her pale eyes met theirs, and disgust rippled through the crowd, mothers ushering their children away from her as they moved away from her path, letting her pass. She offered no emotion, simply bowing her head and proceeding through them, her steps light and making almost no noise on the dirt road as she neared the town well, which sat in the middle of the town’s square, the road that stretched towards the forest bending around it on both sides.

She paused there, and from her cloak, she produced what looked like an urn, the lid tightly fastened to it. She carefully placed it on the ground, the brightly colored pottery glistening in the evening sun, splotches of red and blue paint strewn across its surface.

She drew water from the well, drinking deeply from the bucket as the group began to disperse one by one, children being shepherded back into their homes, the people watching her with wary eyes. The only one that was left was the elder, old and bent over, clutching a long, gnarled stick as a cane, his white hair pulled back behind him as his long white beard nearly sweeping his feet. He shuffled towards her, his steps slow and halting. She placed the bucket carefully at the lip of the well, and moved towards him, leaving the urn sitting on the ground. “Come have a drink, grandfather, for I know that you are parched. I have slaked my thirst.”

The elder smiled softly, his wrinkled lips pulling back to reveal that most of his teeth were gone. Her words had been ones of respect and kindness, and he chuckled, stepping closer towards her. She smiled back gently, her expression portraying warmth as she carefully took his arm, leading him to the well and gently seating him beside it. She drew more water from the well, helping him drink, water dribbling down his beard as he sighed in satisfaction, murmuring a word of thanks. She nodded, placing the bucket down and sitting beside him, her hands resting in her lap. “Tell me of what troubles your home, grandfather.” The old man chuckled, his soft laughter turning to a hacking cough, his willowy form bending over, wracked with pain. “N-Nothing, young lady!”

He rasped this, his toothless grin unsettling as he hauled himself upright again, his knuckles turning white as he grasped at his cane.

“Nothing comes to our village until you show up. Then the beasts come.”

He cackled, his shoulders shaking as she sat silently beside him, watching him with pale eyes.

“We both know that is not true, grandfather. Your hunters disappear, their bodies found mangled and torn near caves or in bushes. Your cattle are mauled by something in the dark, but the farmers refuse to go in search of it.”

The elder went silent, his head dipped low as he turned towards her, fear in his foggy eyes.

“You know of it?”

She nodded silently, her hands resting in her lap, the urn sitting silently beside her.

“Will you save us?”

His plea seemingly echoed through the village, men and women peeking out their windows as they watched their exchange silently, the tension mounting as they strained their ears for her answer. She stood up, her cloak rustling against her dress as she picked up the urn, holding it to her chest.

“I cannot make any promises, grandfather. But I will try.”

The old man nodded, shakily getting to his feet as the sun dipped below the trees, the shadows becoming long as he hobbled towards his small abode, taking one last look towards her before slipping inside, shutting and bolting his door.

As the night started, the woman struck a small fire before the well, sitting before it. The wind whistled through the trees of the forest, its soft breathes sounding like whispers as the inhabitants of Fabelwesen bolted their doors and latched their windows, the wooden slats offering the only vision to the outside. The parents in the village carefully gathered their children, murmuring prayers and gently pushing wax into their children’s ears.

“Do not take them out.” they would whisper to their children, fear in their eyes as they tucked them into bed, branches of holly and ivy tied to their bed posts, hoping to ward away the spirit that would surely come this night. The lamps that they kept lit near their doors were extinguished, plunging their homes into darkness. Lights should not be kept on, lest they lure hungry creatures to their doorsteps, whispering cries begging them to open the doors. Stars gleaned overhead, and were quickly snuffed out by clouds, the wind picking up.

She shivered, the fire guttering as the trees bowed and swayed, creaking as their bows began to snap and break. The woman then stood up, her cloak billowing in the wind as she opened her mouth. A single note rang from her voice, soft and pure, and the wind died, stopping so suddenly that trees snapped back upwards, and shingles that had been torn from roofs fell to the ground with a crash, smashing along the rocky ground. She closed her mouth, her hair a tangled mess as she looked towards the entrance to the forest, her eyes narrowing. “I know you are there! Come out! You cannot hide from me!”

All was silent, and it felt as if the world was holding its breath. The trees then began to tremble and part, their trunks creaking as something large moved through them, shoving them this way and that with little effort. She narrowed her eyes slightly as a large, black arm pushed its way through the trees, slamming onto the ground and pulling the rest of the creature’s form into the moonlight.

Its form was twisted and broken, large, elongated arms sticking out of its torso. Its legs looked crippled, its feet resembling the paws of a bear as it dragged itself near the town. As it got closer, she could make out more features. It looked skinny and malnourished, ribs sticking out prominently as its stomach seemingly sunk inwards. A long skeletal tail curled behind it, twisting and broken, a single wicked looking spike at the end that dragged along the ground, the grass and flowers around its form withering and turning to dust. Its head was unlike that of any animal or human that existed. Two large curved horns rose towards the sky, taking the place where its eyes should be. Its mouth was filled with flat, yet sharp teeth, rows of them extending back towards its throat, and a long tongue flicked out. Sitting between the two horns was what looked like a black iron crown, twisted and broken in several places. On its back, insect like wings bulged from between its shoulder blades, creating a humming sound as the creatures teeth chattered, black sludge leaking from its mouth. Dark fur seemed to drape along its shoulders and head, matted and twisted from years, or possibly decades of dirt and moss. It dragged itself towards the woman’s fire, passing between homes as its blackened form dragged along the rocky ground, showing that it’s body was the color of midnight, and was littered with arrows. Many were broken, snapped and dangling from wooden fibers, while others were seemingly forged from iron, rusting within this beasts body. It wheezed, its voice a whisper as it slumped in front of her fire, mear inches from her.

Its voice echoed off of the stone walls of the homes, sounding like the rattle of death as it rested before the fire, its broken tail laying flat behind it. Its ragged and broken form towered over her, its arms resting on the ground.

“Why do you torture this town with your attacks, great beast?”

She stared at this creature, her grip on her urn tightening as the creature wheezed and opened its lipless mouth, beginning to speak.

“Fear…….Hate…….Little ones afraid…….Forgot……. Take from forest……….Hurt……….Kill…….Eat…….HURT!”

The last word rang out throughout the village, cracking windows and making stone buildings shudder at the force in which it was spoken.

The woman did not falter, nor flinch, watching this creature as it roared in pain, reaching an arm backwards, and tugging at one of the iron arrows, screaming in pain as its skin bubbled and hissed on contact. It then swung out in frustration, an abandoned house getting crushed by its hands as it screamed loudly, more black ooze pouring from its mouth. The woman waited for it to calm down, holding her ground as the creature panted, its form shaking as its arms slid back towards its body, wheezing.

“Please. Tell me why did you kill those hunters.”

“Sent to kill…….Sent with iron arrows and swords of steel...Invaded home…….Killed tiny ones...Defended.”

The creature slumped forward, the fire hissing and sizzling as the black ooze from its mouth dropped into it, creating horrible smelling black smog. The woman coughed, covering her nose with her cloak.

“They believe that they must defend themselves!”

The creature jerked upwards, hissing and snapping at the woman’s face.

“Human lies!! Cut down trees! Burn homes! No peace!”

“They do not know better!”

The creature hissed in displeasure, sitting back and growling.

“Cut them down…….Burn homes….Let them feel pain…”

The woman narrowed her eyes, lifting a hand and placing it on the lid of the jar.

“Are you sure? These humans could learn so much from you. You have been around for so long. Time has twisted your form, and iron has poisoned your mind. There is still a chance for you. A chance for so many others.”

The creature hissed, dragging itself to its feet, its hands gripping at the ground. “Chance?......Chance………..”

The creature slumped, looking weakened and pathetic. It then lifted its head, and raised one of its long arms, pointing towards the forest with a gnarled, crooked finger.

“No chance for I…..But chance is out there……. Chance with little one……..Little seed….. I must fight……. I must die.”

The woman bit her lip, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she placed the urn at her feet, and bowed towards the creature.

“May your life be taken with grace, Lord of the Forests. Eternal King of these lands.”

The creature wheezed, then roared, lifting its arms to swipe at her as she placed a hand atop the lid of the urn, and lifted it.

From within a small wooden hut, a single mother watched, her children already put to bed, wax in their ears to prevent them from hearing the creatures of the night. She watched from between the slats of her window as the lid of the urn was lifted, and the creature screamed.

Something dark came from that urn, exploding from the small opening and pulling the creature towards it, the snap of bones and the screams of pain echoing through the village. She could not tear her eyes away, terror in her heart.

Whatever it was within that urn, it was not natural. Its eyes were blazing white, twitching and looking intently at its kill as it ripped chunks from the creature, devouring it bit by bit until nothing was left, its remains being pulled into the urn. The woman seemed to speak to the creature within the urn, beckoning it back into its confines. A raspy voice whispered from its form, the sound like nails upon the chalk slates that her children used for school. Its shadowed and odd form disappeared back within the urn, and the woman replaced the lid, picking it up and holding it close to her chest, her head bowed, her hair hiding her face as she seemed to mumble prayers.

The mother had her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide from the terror she had just witnessed, and her hands shook, struggling to keep in the screams that threatened to climb up her throat. The woman by the fire then began to put the fire out, collecting dirt in her hands and placing it over the hot coals. The mother then slipped from her chair, and darkness took her.

The next morning, the townspeople stepped outside, seeing the remains of a fire pit, and a giant, shattered iron crown. The woman was gone, her footsteps leading back to the forest. Many were relieved, murmuring to one another as they began to get ready for the day. Only two knew that the peace was only a farce. The elder sat on his front porch, a grim expression on his face, his gnarled hands tightly gripping onto his cane.

The mother walked towards him, her children left to play with the rest. “Grandfather. I saw it.” The old man turned towards her, and nodded.

“I know, dear. The expression on your face gave you away.”

“What should we do? It said that something it still out there.”

The elder shifted in his seat, shaking his head.

“We leave it be. Perhaps, in another five years, we shall know what it is.”