Witch Knight

The midnight hour came upon a clear, star-filled sky over the Deadman Woods. Mona, having just turned twenty years of age, walked through the unbeaten yet familiar trail; her pace was brisk with light but firm steps. She knew this path as she had known it for almost ten years. The path led to that damn tree where she would meet her parents every few months.

Her pace slowed for only a moment when the heavy brush began to clear; she spied the tops of the leafless branches of the Rotwood Tree between the trunks and above the branches of the other trees. Mona could never remember a time when she didn’t stumble in her step whenever the tree came into view, only that she would keep going until she reached it. The cold air of early autumn passed through her lungs as her pace resumed its previous briskness. Soon every tree in the woods would lose its color and resemble the Rotwood.

Dead but still alive.

She pulled the cloak around her shoulders closer to herself as she stepped out of the trees and into a clearing drawing closer to the Rotwood Tree that sat in the center. Its massive trunk was rooted to the ground, unmoving as stone as it towered above the rest of the trees. The branches twisted out and up as if grasping for the other trees that avoided it and reaching for something in the heavens that it could never have. Mona glanced to the side, looking at the well-worn path leading from the clearing back through the woods.

It was a path she never took. Everyone in the village would know she was coming here. She remembered being a little girl and marching down that path of damnation. She wanted to be with her parents, but no one would let her.

She didn’t know why at the time. But she knew now that it was their cruelty.

The same cruelty caused her parents to now be hanging from this damnable tree. She looked up at the bodies that silently hung from the lowest branches. More bodies were dangling from tree branches since her last visit. She only came every few months when the season changed. Mona glanced at the fresher corpses, an older man, and three young women.

Mona pulled her gaze away from them to a body closer to the trunk. The body had rotted away to almost nothing, but she still knew who her mother was. She was still dressed in the same nightgown she had gotten as a gift from her grandmother; she was wearing it when townsfolk came in the night. The shouting and other noises that had woken Mona that night were a horrid contrast to the lullaby her mother sang to her just before bed. The memory of the noise rang in the back of her mind as she turned toward another body.

On the other side of the tree was her father. Almost rotten away, except for his facial hair, a thick and well-trimmed beard in life now a tattered mess that seemed to persist despite his death. She remembered how it would tickle whenever he bent down to kiss her. She remembered how his blood had mixed with it when the villagers beat him to the floor. Her gaze lowered to the ground, reaching into the bag at her side.

“You know it is rather late to be taking a stroll,” a deep voice came from behind her, “Not to mention that the woods are dangerous no matter the time of year.”

Mona couldn’t keep the gasp from escaping her lips as she whirled around to see who had spoken; despite already knowing who it was.

Count Adolphus Antiphonus stood in front of her. The dark cloak around his body blended into the shadows, making it look like his pale face was floating in midair. His dark, curly hair fell to his shoulders, framing his hauntingly handsome face with an unnatural perfection. His vibrant, green eyes stared at her as he cocked his head to one side.

“I was not aware that you were out here, m’lord.” Mona quickly recomposed herself standing as straight and confident as she could, holding her hands to try and stop them from shaking.

“What are you doing out this late, my dear?” The Count stepped closer; Mona had to lift her head back to maintain eye contact, the Count being almost two heads taller than her. He was taller than everyone else in the village, something else that didn’t seem right.

“I was just going on a late-night walk” Her eyes glanced from the Count to the figure just behind him, “I do it often enough; I have trouble sleeping most nights.”

The man standing behind the Count was covered head to toe in armor as dark as the Count’s cloak making it hard to see details in the darkness. The knight held an unsheathed sword by its blade in his off-hand. He remained silent—the same as he always did since appearing in the village and began working for the Count.

Mora felt something cold brush her cheek. She gasped as she stepped away from the Count, his pale hand left hanging in the air.

“Rather presumptuous, m’lord!” Mona hissed as she glared at the Count.

“Forgive me, dear.” The Count’s voice moved through her, “I asked a question, and you didn’t answer.”

“Oh.” Mona cleared her throat, “What was the question about?”

“I asked you about your parents.”

Mona’s stomach heaved, “W-What about them?”

“I asked you if you had come here to see your parents?” the Count’s eyes bore into her soul.

“O-Of course not….” Mona turned away, “I just… didn’t realize how far I had come until I saw the tree.”

She felt the Count’s hand on her shoulder, “Coming here must have brought back some unpleasant memories.”

“Yes…” Mona couldn’t hide that. She turned to face the Count again, removing his cold hand from her shoulder.

“M’lord?” Mona asked, “What are you doing out here this late?”

“Business.” the Count gave a wry smile.

“Business…?” Mona hesitantly questioned.

“Yes. Important business.” the Count’s smile didn’t leave his face, “But that business has finished now.”

“Since you didn’t intend to come out here,” the Count opened his cloak, “shall I walk you home, my dear?”

Mona’s eyes flicked back and forth between the Count and his knight. She looked at the Count’s open cloak, then the knight’s scabbardless sword. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Certainly, m’lord.” Mona did her best to quiet her churning stomach, “It’s dangerous, just like you said.”

“Wonderful.”

Mona suddenly felt the Count’s cloak draped around her shoulder from behind, pushing her closer to him. Her muscles tensed; her gaze lingered where the Count had been standing just a moment ago. A faint bit of dust had yet to settle.

Mona resolved to stay silent this time, no matter what the Count asked. Mona shivered as the Count began to lead the walk back to the village. The Count’s cloak made it worse. It was even colder next to him.