Hexed and Perplexed

France, 1178 A.D.

As late-night thunder rolls through young nimbus swells somewhere along the coast of France, snow tumbles into recent tracks making their way from an ocean battered ship to a small town hidden in a deep wood, and then through to a poorly lit monastery at it’s heart.

Inside, the ethereal muffled hum of chanting monks dampens the slosh of muddy shoes making their way up a rickety set of stairs to a locked door. Behind it, a cold dark room, suddenly exposed, etched in the flickers of a single candle being lit. A well-traveled bag hits the floor with a moist thud, from it, worn hands cascade a plethora of small, half-filled glass bottles, heavily abused parchments, quest summons, and ragged clothes onto the floor- eagerly searching for something.

The old body of a monk shrouds his prized findings as he tiredly makes his way to his desk. Shoving aside dusty transcriptions and dried ink cups, he spreads an armful of new… curiosities. Settling into a chair, his fingers lace into each other over one item in particular, not in prayer but in deep, lost thought.

Days and nights of uninterrupted pondering, measuring, and scribbling later, the corners of his eyes begin to twitch as something snapps in him, the pit of his stomach drops in an overwhelming twist of excitement as a deep twinge of inspiration takes him, ears ringing, hands moving on their own… a bowl, some base media, and a few quick hours have led to something long forbidden by -and protected from- mankind and, which must have been some of the fun of it. Just as his creation takes its first breath, the door behind him creaks open.

“Karl? Karl? It’s been forever since anyone’s seen you, are you all right in there?” A young, sandy haired man pops his head around the door to see a border of candlelight light around Karl’s dark, still frame huddling over his desk… “Ughhh… it smells terrible in here, I’ll change your bucket and take your plates.” He steps in casually but inquisitively as he lightly snoops the room. “You know, getting some fresh air and a good meal would do you some good, the others have been cooking up some breads with the grains donated from last harvest- did you see anything interesting on your… err… trip?“

A cold breeze rolls through the room as the young man swings open the closest window shudder, the sudden change in temperature blows out the candles and slams the room door shut. “Sorry about that… let me-“ he readies to relight them in pale moonlight “Already smells better, I’ll bring you a piece of that bread after I get these lit and-“ sparks fly from flint to a wiked mound of wax, unleashing the secret kept guard by the aged, broad shoulders of Karl. Londt slows to a stop, confused, peering into a bowl of smooth, deep, purple, is suddenly shocked when he feels, then realizes, that Karl’s deep bloodshot eyes had twisted up in his direction. The young man’s boyish kindness disappears from his face as he looks around Karl’s desk at the plethora of open jars, leather bags, odd plant clippings, sharp tools, and piles of angrily scribbled papers. “W-what’s all this, Karl? Testing n-new inks?” The boy tries to smile, attempting to brush off the feeling he shouldn’t be there.

Karl doesn’t reply, and the still, cold, look on his face doesn’t reveal much either…

“Didn’t mean to disturb you, Karl… I’m sorry… I’ll…” Londt turns to leave, visibly troubled. Karl snaps, grabs the young mans arm and holds him there. “Y-y-yes…?” Londt grumbles anxiously.

“Sit-“ Karl’s deep voice croaks, muddied by bile and curdled saliva unrattled in days.

Londt blinks uncomfortably and stifles a gulp as he slowly lowers himself to the tousled bed next to Karl’s desk.

Karl doesn’t move, and his grip doesnt falter. “I need your help, would you be a good boy and do something for me?”

Londt’s peripherals flicker to movement on the other side of Karl, something was amis from the desk. He knew Karl knew he knew as he felt every swell of Karl’s pulse beat faster, harder through the hand around his wrist. Londt nods gently, not knowing what fate would befall unto him if he rejected.

Karl’s eyes finally flutter from Londts, a curl tugs at his unshaven lip, his other hand draws up from beside the desk to reveal an awkwardly long, pointy, thin tube of metal with a small flask and bladder affixed at the end.

—

“Wake up, boy.” The sun hadn’t broken the sky yet, white cold winter wind bellows through the room from the still-open shudders, Karl hovers sternly over the unmoving young man- waiting. Growing ever more impatient to see if it had worked.

Suddenly, footsteps, knuckles crack against his bedroom door, voices outside it call to Karl; “Londt said he was going to check on you last night, have you seen him?”

When a startled Karl doesn’t answer, the number of footsteps and voices grow- begin to mumble against each other, concerned fists begin to pound, rattling against the only way in or out. Karl knew he had to move though his eyes didn’t want to, the moment he’d been anticipating dissipates fast as he realizes that the parts he didn’t plan for were coming for his head once they had seen what he had done… he attempts to lift Londt to pull at the bed sheets from beneath his limp body, once free he begins to anxiously tie the ends together, desperately looking to the stuffs that littered his desk, and then down out the window. Would he make it?

“Karl… help m…” Londt’s voice whispers weakly.

Karl turns sharply to see Londt trying to sit up against what seems an enormous invisible weight. A guttural humm…. the knotted sweat stained sheets slip from Karl’s hands to the floor. All at once, foam begins to dribble from Londt’s mouth as he begins to cough, purple wells and stains the boy’s eyes as they start to peel off in different directions, parts of him convulse as others shrivel and snap, he begins to wretch against his own screams, screeches- Karl instinctively tries to cover his ears as he whips into a wide eyed fear, the pounding and yelling at the door only getting louder… “Is he in there? What have you done to him? Let us in!”

“No… oh no… nonono”

Karl has to turn away to steady himself just enough to shakily scoop up the sheets from the floor. He ties the makeshift rope to a pillar and flings them out the window, then runs to his desk to swipe everything he can into his bag… with one last desperate look over his shoulder he abandons the boy, his brothers, his home, and possibly his a faith. He clamors out the window and begins to scale the monastery amidst a cacophony of chaos.

Once down, at full force, he swerves from shadow to shadow through the small town and clears into the tree line. Karl can’t help but to slow to a stop, he looks back to his window heaving, heart beating in his throat. “What was that… what have I done…?” he stammers, his emaciated, purple stained hands shake as he reaches for and rips off the cross around his neck.

“I did it for you, why didn’t it work… isn’t this what you wanted of me?”

“…”

Nothing in his heart replies, but something in his gut knew better as the words that fell out of his mouth feel like lies. He stands there a moment, broken, knowing he can never go back… he throws his cross into the snow and disappears into the trees, beginning a journey that he’s unsure there is an end to.

The other monks finally burst it into Karl’s room where the young man lay shrieking and writhing in pain, insides becoming outsides, outsides becoming insides as flesh rips into itself, resembling a hoard of maggots, some reach out to try to help Londt- only to find themselves wrestling with burning hot dissolving mush “What on God’s earth is…” The screaming tops out at an ear piercing pitch before it suddenly stops with a pop, as if Londt was sucked into himself, gone… what, if anything, is left of Londt’s body sizzles, cooking itself before crystallizing and crumbling into black dust... Some of the monks fall to their knees defeated, dazed, speechless as others pass out in sheer distress. The oldest of the monks who had finally made his way up the staircase to the room stops at what he feels brush past him, to spooked to cross the doorframe as he eyes the bed.

—

Karl wanders far and wide for a long, long time- his bag heavy and always in tow across ocean, over farmland, amongst old and fresh battlefields, through swamps and past towns. Somewhere out there though, after years on open road trying to forget, he began to feel as if he was only feebly trying to run away from what his purpose was only growing closer to, it was waiting for him, the only thing ever on his mind anymore, his ‘friends’ whispering of purple. “The ratios, the quality, the notes, the boy… what was it… why did it fail… why did I fail… ”

Eventually, Karl makes it as far north as man could survive and hunkers into an abandoned home on the edge of a tall wood. Only enough of his precious ‘friends’ to grant him one more chance. “4 years, Lord, since I last tried to resurrect you, since I tried to give you a body. You laid a path for me, you gave me everything… anything that would stop anyone else didn’t stop me- because of you, you want me to find you, you want me to bring you back so…”

A knock. Karl stands, dusts his knees, and makes his way to the front door, locking his room as he passes. “Yes?”

Weak chittering teeth, a voice from the dark cold, iced blood-laced eyes glitter past him to the inside of his warm dilapidated house. “M-may I borrow a meal from you tonight? Maybe a corner inside?”