Someone to Protect

A snap of her fingers.

     It was all Kishar needed to show him one of the numerous stories she had witnessed. These were just slivers of one of many stories.

     Fragments. Nothing more was needed.

     Sensations, feelings. Images followed one another, whirling like leaves carried by the wind.

     For him who had a little habit of feeling any particular emotion…

     Henox found himself nauseous, surprisingly so.

     Even worse, he startled himself for having been naive. Under the guise of her innocence and her smile, the sorcerer hadn’t imagined Gretel could have her own wounds. Even if, as it was, she herself was unaware of it. Though he knew, before she became a fairy, she had a life. A human’s life. A life from which one can’t come out unscathed. Though, as often, he hadn’t looked any further.

     Fool… Fool he was.

     As the images, the voices faded… He clenched his fists.

     Kishar hadn’t moved, she stood before him. She stared at him. She smiled.

     His eyes locking on hers, he gave her a murderous look. It amused her, maybe?

     No.

     On closer inspection, Kishar’s smile was bitter.

“A world where children suffer like this shouldn’t exist. If an innocent soul does wish for it… How can I defend it?”

     Rhetorical question.

“So? Would you still have the audacity to ask me to turn around?”

     The pressure in his hands found release, the sorcerer letting them fall back along his waist. His lips unsealed. Though the sigh he held back got stuck there.

“You allowed Gretel to live once more while the world was already condemned. You even sealed her memories so she could be happy. Why, when everything is going to end soon?

     Not answering right away, Kishar stood up. She made a few steps towards Henox, without particular haste. In this place almost out of time, it was useless.

     She was about to pass the sorcerer when the goddess stopped at his side.

“You just gave the answer yourself. For her to be happy. For her to at last get a chance to be.”

“It holds no meaning.” He retorted.

“On the contrary.” Kishar’s rainbowish eyes slid towards him. “A life, as short as it may be, holds great value. This little time she has is more precious than the hundreds of years you drag behind.” She paused. “Perhaps it is time for you to find out what is precious to you as well.”

“What is precious to me?” He burst into a laughing fit, mocking. “Well, well. That is interesting. You have prepared another cutscene for me to watch? Where can I sit? You should have warned me, I would have brought some tea.”

     A sarcasm she ignored.

“To my great regret, I don’t think you have the time to linger here. Unless… the thought of that little fairy about to die for a second time lets you indifferent.”

***

It is a fact that at the very beginning – before meeting the sorcerer – Gretel had been alone. Fairies don’t have parents. They are fragments of nature gifted with a consciousness, a soul.

     Though it isn’t before you learn to know what is a presence by your side that you realise what represents its absence.

     That you feel lonely.

     And Gretel felt lonely.

“Sir Henox… Sir Henox, where are you?…”

     Having left the Loireag’s dwelling for many hours she hadn’t cared to count, Gretel wandered aimlessly. She had her hands pressed against her heart, as if to keep there a semblance of warm.

     After flying around, she finally reached a forest. Rummaging between the trees, she tried not to regret not having insisted for him to stay. After all she knew she didn’t really have the right to ask him such a thing. He had no reason to appreciate her. He had already granted her his assistance while they didn’t know each other. Anyway, anyone ended up taking its own way. To appreciate a person, one had to have a dubious inclination towards pain. Because, invariably, the ones we love end up leaving.

     The little fairy slowed her pace, soon hovering. Her wings beating like a butterfly’s.

     When she raised her eyes, she spotted white shapes standing out from the grass and moss. Flowers?

     No. It was a skeleton, its bones half covered by plants having grown over there. A small skeleton, that of a child.

     Gretel’s eyes only tore away when a squeaky voice made her retch.

“There, there, there. What do I see?”

     The little one didn’t have the time to turn around that a grey hand, covered with pustules, grabbed her with a strong grip. Her nails were the first things she saw. Long nails. Ones broken, others partly gnawed.

“Ghhh… Let me go. It hurts!”

     The hand then approached a mass of skin covered in every infection possible to get. If it wasn’t the wrinkles, it was the pus oozing from her scabs that marred the shape of her face. Angular, a crescent moon shaped nose, eyes sunken in her sockets.

“A little flying pie!”

     A trickle of drool slipped between the crooked and overly spaced teeth of the Gyre Carlin.

     Horrified, the little fairy pulled with all her strengths against the fingers compressing her ribs.

     With her free hand, the creature enclosed it to feel the little fairy under her fingers. And winced.

“Rahh. You only have skin upon your bones. But this can be fixed.”

     Deciding to keep her snack until she fattens her, she began to walk away in the forest to return to the top of the summit of the mountains where she lived.

     They had already left the forest when an insolent stone shifted beneath the feet of the hideous creature. She wobbled.

     Straightaway, a stone fist hurled towards her. To outflank her like that would have been a decent idea if it had been anyone else. Though as soon as she felt the blow coming, her tiny eyes turned towards the hand of the golem.

     The latter burst, giving way to a swarm of bats.

     The carrion retrieved then her balance, and turned towards the figure of a man wearing a goatskin. He still held in his hand the magic map that allowed him to find Gretel.

“Of all the existing abominations… you had to get caught by the Gyre Carlin.” Henox noted. “The queen of dark elves.”

“Sir Henox…?!”

     Her cheeks reddish, scattered with tears, Gretel was afraid of rejoicing. It wasn’t an illusion, was it? He wouldn’t fade away as soon as she took her eyes off it?

“You, what have you to do with me? Buzz off… Or I’ll take your head and embed it above my chimney.”

     Henox mid-closed his eyes.

     All around the Gyre Carlin, rocks piled up until shaping golems one by one. They were at least three times her size.

     Despite that, as soon as they performed the slightest gesture to attack, the stones gave way to numerous toads and rats which scattered in all directions.

     A toothless smile stretched her face, deepening her wrinkles. Rare were the ones who could be thankful for escaping her clutches, none to have rivalled her magic.

“Pehh. You only know kid’s tricks.”

“Kid’s?”

     Deep down, he knew he had no chance to compete. He should have gone his way. He should have, though something held him back.

     Another golems began to shape, each of them shattering before they even had the time to form.

     It was of that chaos the sorcerer took advantage. He moved in the back of the Gyre Carlin, scurrying to her, the blade of his dagger extended.

     At the moment he was about to pierce her, the Gyre Carlin turned her face towards him.

     But these were no longer her unsavoury features. Instead of that, he met her red eyes, he beheld her horns twirling on both sides. Emerging from her long hair, white and curly.

     Taken aback the sorcerer froze, his blade brushing the skin of the witch…

“Mmm… I feel weakness.”

    Henox jumped backward.

     It was ridiculous of him for having faltered. He knew it, and already cursed himself. Of all the faces, the Gyre Carlin had to play around by taking on Griselde’s.

“Raaaah don’t make that face.” She hissed. “Let’s see… I’m in a good mood today. You want to retrieve this fairy that much? Well then I agree to give it to you, if you give me in exchange something equally tasty.”

     Her eyes glowed with wickedness. She could have killed him and feasted, but there was something far more delicious about exacerbating his frustration, his disgust. These were all sweets the Gyre Carlin revelled in.

“So? I’m letting a chance to you. What are you going to do with it?”

     The sorcerer glanced at Gretel.

     She was weak. She was useless.

     With his fingertips, he grabbed the flowery bracelet around his wrist. Removing it.

     Even when she didn’t find herself in danger because of her own fault, it was her goodness which endangered her. To him, she was the same as the phœnix he met in Desphia. He remembered how she had stood before him to protect the High Priest.

“The ones who protect need to be protected. All the more when they have a heart way too tender for their own survival.”

     Henox didn’t wish for her to end up like that creature.

     So, he turned the handle of his dagger, directing the blade towards himself.