Madness

A shapeless whisper began to spread. A villager, then another. One by one their mouths started to move, words to clatter with each other.

“…be blessed…” “…burn…” “…save us…” “…let’s pray…” “…mercy…” “…forgive…” “…may the world…” “…sin…”

     Suffocating.

“…love…” “…mistake…” “…brambles…” “…cruel…” “…goddess Kishar…” “…disappear…” “…forget…” “…beloved goddess…”

     It was like the noise caused by dozens of cockroaches agglutinating one over the others.

     To these were added other lower voices which regurgitated prayers learnt by heart at a more and more jerky pace.

     In comparison, the High Priest’s footsteps went unnoticed. Villagers on his way hastened to step away, clearing a path for him as he approached the turret-like structure. As usual, his gestures were calm, precise. He straightened his collar with his fingertips.

     At last, he came to a halt in front of the heap of wood, raising his head to its summit, towards the young woman who stoop there. Even though he couldn’t see her.

“Well, it’s about time to begin.”

     Oswynn turned around then to face the gathered villagers. What could be considered a smile was displayed on his features.

“Tonight, we are all gathered once again…” He began, raising his voice.

     Slightly. Without effort.

     He didn’t need more because as soon as he started to speak the unpleasant noises faded away.

“…in order to carry out the ceremony that will allow Lucrecia to offer her heart as well as her body to Kishar. To allow her of becoming worthy of her, we will help her to purify her soul.”

     Not missing a part of the speech, the little fairy took a worried expression. These people who sooner displayed smiles and seemed so gentle now suddenly appeared quite different to her.

“Lucrecia… What does mean sir Oswynn by purify?”

“He means that I will be freed from the burden of my sins.”

“And… this is a good thing?” Gretel glanced at her doubtfully.

     Though Lucrecia didn’t answer. She had an absent gaze, raising her eyes to the sky. As if she was searching for something in the darkness or… hoping for something in particular to be looking at her.

“My friends! Let’s pray! Let’s all pray for her so that Kishar would welcome her. Let’s pray so that realising the unmatched love we hold for her she will be appeased and the brambles will withdraw!”

     The High Priest turned anew to face the scaffold, raising his arms on both sides, reaching out his palms to the nascent stars. Stars he wasn’t alone being unable to see, because of the mist.

     It was at this moment that Henox slowed his pace, halting in front of the gathering in the square. Finally he found them. His gaze first went to the High Priest before glancing at the wooden structure. Then he froze.

“Cursed priest…” He thought, clenching his fists. “Cursed village…”

“O goddess, let us express our love to you. Give this world the chance to continue demonstrating you its affection! Grant us a gaze, grant us a smile! See our feelings’ sincerity! See Lucrecia who, tonight, offers herself to you.”

     His gaze was inhabited by a glow that would make shiver the flame flaring up at the end of a torch. The one two villagers had just ignited.

     As he continued speaking, the High Priest began undoing the bandages protecting one of his hands. Letting one by one the strips fall to the ground. At the sight of his pale skin, one could only wonder for how long it hadn’t been bathed in any kind of light. At least… From the little that could be seen. For it was barely possible to distinguish an untouched part of his skin covered with deep cuts. Some seemed recent, others a bit older. Marks that would forever be a part of him.

“Each time one of us joins you, it’s a part of us we do abandon. Ahh Kishar! Kishar! Will this time our wound be deep enough for you to forgive us our existence?”

     The High Priest extended his hand that was still covered with bland bandages before him. One of the villagers coming then to present him a dagger with a glinting blade. Slender.

     Then he cut his hand.

     As he did each time he had caused the loss of a villager.

     Another one stepped closer in turn. The latter holding the burning torch. He reached it out to the High Priest who grasped it, his blood soon sullying the wooden shaft.

“May the fire purify your soul, Lucrecia.”

     The little fairy realised – at last – she hadn’t any more the possibility to escape reality. Though, a part of her useless innocence persisted fighting.

“He will not really set fire, right Lucrecia? Lucrecia?!”

     But the latter had an ecstatic smile, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Ahh! Finally! Finally! My goddess!” She cried out. “Time has come!!”

     The High Priest enclosed even more, his hand dangerously near of the scaffold.

“Cease immediately!” Henox exclaimed.

     By the time he would make his way through the clustered worshippers, it would be too late to prevent his gesture.

     Though.

     After all… Why bother?

     The impatient flames found the contact of the dried wood, begging to go up in smoke, to be reduced to ashes.

     Whatever he did, this fairy would end up dying. As everything else. Sparing her a few months would mean anything in the end. However… There still were fools to act despite that. He recalled Kemishi.

     Clenching his fists, his nails threatening to sink under his skin, the murmurs around him began to irritate the sorcerer. He hated persons like these ones.

     Who achieved to awake a part of humanity which he had forgotten the existence itself. A part of him time had nevertheless taken care to erase.

     When the High Priest made a few steps back, the fire was already gaining intensity, roaring, claiming the prey that had been entrusted him.

“Lucrecia!!” Gretel, panicked, tried to catch somehow the attention of the villager by pulling on her thumb. “Lucrecia!! We have to get out of here!”

     But it was like Lucrecia’s mind had ignited at the same time as the cursed bonfire.

“Ahh!! Burn me! Burn me! Burn me with your love!! Consume me, consume my thoughts!”

     Gretel widened her eyes, her pupils conversely shrinking. Terrified, she recoiled while shaking her head. Tears came to her eyes before she even realised it, and she turned away from Lucrecia.

     Run away. Run away to live. Run away from what can’t be saved. By cowardice. By weakness.

     The little fairy darted forward and jumped from Lucrecia’s hands.

     Flames were already reaching for the sky, smoke licking them hungrily.

     Below, Gretel caught sight of the sorcerer’s figure.

     She extended a hand towards him… before fingers from either side came around her, preventing her from fleeing.

“Stay. You won’t leave now, Gretel. Let yourself be purified first. You’ll feel better afterward. You’ll feel… finally freed.”

“Sir Henox!! H- Help…!”

     Still motionless, the sorcerer met her gaze.

     Then, the pressure in his fingers loosened. He undid his fists.

“Are you merely going to watch her die? She will end up in cinders in no time, you know.”

     Henox widened his eyes. This voice…

     He felt a pressure against his back, hands seeming to be placed around his neck, holding him against her. A woman of great beauty. Her long curled hair of an immaculate white was floating in her back. A mischievous smile. Goat’s horns twisting on either side of her face. At her ears, rings hung, wavering. Rings containing a coiled pattern.

“You and I both know it very well. If you stand by and do nothing, you’ll regret it. You’re angry, aren’t you? So why repress it.”

“Shut up…”

     Of course, he knew there was no point to turn around. She wasn’t truly there. She couldn’t be.

     Less than a ghost.

     More than a memory.

     An echo.

“…Griselde.”

     Her smile broadened. Then, like the flapping of a butterfly’s wings unleashing a storm, her mocking whispers brushed the sorcerer’s ear.

“Don’t imagine achieving to bring back her soul among the living when regrets come to you. After more than a thousand years, you didn’t even achieve to bring back the one of your brother…”

     His blood boiled.

     Earth around them was already tearing away mound by mound from the ground. Same to an inverted rain, to a blizzard that would come from the ground instead of the sky.