Chapter 22:

Blessing of the Striga

Tales from Zemliharos: Night of The Striga


Peter didn’t open his eyes to find himself in some sort of afterlife. He didn’t find himself in nothingness, or an endless void for him to forever wander, nor an eternal paradise or Hell. Instead, he found himself in what must’ve been the past. His form had reverted to his spectral spirit-like state once again, following what must’ve been Lyana in her youth. She looked near identical to what she appeared like last time he entered this state, same clothes and all. He figured it must’ve been not long after her apparent mother had met her fate on a pyre; both her and the knight who resembled Luka Branković looked identical to the vision he had last. She stumbled deeper into the swamplands with the ironclad knight forcibly dragging her along, his shining ceremonial armor at odds with the bog around him. His horse stood faithfully several hundred feet away, and the sloshing in from the watery ground became all the more noticeable as his steel sabatons waded and buried himself in the damp earth with each step he took.

“Let go of me at once! I am a Lady of House Hovart.”

The Knight tightened his grip on the young girl, lifting her up so he could meet her at eye level, his infuriated eyes burning themselves into her. “Not anymore, you’re not. You’re nothing more than an accursed wench, a disgrace to the Annointed's Will. I’d put you on a pyre myself, but perhaps there’s some retribution that can be enacted on you still.”

The knight brushed his hand through her long black hair, before moving his grip onto her throat. She gasped for breath as she stared into the malicious eyes of the supposed nobleman in front of her. “You can’t…hurt…my mother made…a vow.”

“And who’s going to say otherwise, you’re as good as dead out here. Best you be a good girl and accept your fate.” Peter’s stomach churned as he watched the knight kiss the young girl’s hair and attempted to pull at her tunic. The young girl bit down on the knight’s hand, causing him to loosen his grip just long enough for her to break from his grasp. She ran with a frantic pace, attempting to flee for his horse while the mud waded down on her legs.

“Come here you miserable wench.” The knight stumbled through the mud, struggling to stay upright as the bog weighed down on his armor. Even with her head start, the young girl didn’t fare much better with the weight of the bog impacting her anchored steps. She stumbled and slipped into the mud, rolling around as she struggled to face upright once more. The knight threw off the unnecessary bits of ceremonial plate and tossed them into the mud, exposing his true body and soul to the elements surrounding him. The girl screamed in a fury as the knight managed to grab onto her leg, attempting to pin her under his control as they sloshed in the mud.

“No one can hear you now.” Peter couldn’t handle watching the atrocity taking place in front of him, as a fury of disgust and hatred filled his belly, yet he could not close his eyes while in this phantom-like state, it only forced him to stay and observe. Before the worst of the knight’s intentions could be acted upon, a shrill screech filled the bog. Peter knew it all too well at this point, it was the cry of a striga.

The knight left the girl fending for herself in the mud, unsheathing his sword and darting his eyes around in a panic, searching for the beasts that roamed the swamplands. With a swift swoop down from one of the cypress trees surrounding him, one of the striga extended its talons to tear into their unwelcome guest. The knight attempted to break into a high guard stance on his own, but the mud and weight from the bog left him too slow. The striga grappled onto his sword bearing arm, disarming the knight as he attempted to strike the beast with his other fist. Yet another striga swooped down to grab his other free hand; soon, he had four of the creatures pinning him down to the ground, leaving him completely immobile in the mud.

The muddy water around them suddenly flowed as if it had a life of their own. It formed a whirlpool and then the water shot out as if it were a geyser. Soon enough, the spouted water congregated and formed into the figure of a hag, with a prominent horn placed on her forehead. Boba Roga took shape in front of the disgraced knight, who attempted to kick and scream as she leaned in to inspect him further.

“Quite a catch, ladies, it appears this one will be perfectly ready and willing to breed.”

“W-what do you mean?”

Baba Roga carried a sickly grin as she leered down at the pinned knight. “Since you’ve been so anxious to spread your seed, you’ll bolster our ranks properly before feeding our young. He’s all yours girls.” The strigas lifted the knight into the air, cackling as the knight screamed out in a panic, yet no one else heard his screams.

The hag then stepped through the bog to find the shivering young girl covered in mud. The girl sand shook and cowered at the sight of the giant crone that stood in front of her, yet the hag did not rebuke her. She stretched out her arms, brushing away some of the mud from her eyes. “That monster won’t hurt you anymore, Young Petal, no man will. You have Auntie Roga to make it all better.”

She winced as the hag’s elongated fingernails danced across her skin, but soon, her face was wiped clean of the mud. She stared up at the eldritch crone, her withered skin pinched into a smile as her eyes gleamed with a cool warmness.

Baba Roga moved her hand so it touched hers, “How would my Little Petal like a place to sleep tonight, with some Cabbage Stew to forget about this whole thing?” The girl started back at the crone in front of her. The two refused to break each other’s gaze, until she tightened her grip. Baba Roga grabbed onto the young girl, yanking her into her domain. She disappeared into the mud once more, dragging the young girl into the whirlpool as she melted away before Peter’s very eyes. Silence followed, not a toad nor insect buzzed, until the water below them grew perfectly still once more, and Peter’s current world bled back into reality once more. 

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