That Frigid Hand, That Grim Voice, Those Bloodshot Eyes

Hiro twisted the talisman over in his hands, examining the eccentric insignia inscribed into its exterior. The old one-eyed-ogre-fellow had informed him that it was the key to cracking the hex, but he had no idea how to operate it.

As he gaped at the talisman, hungry for a response, feeling 'mad-as-a-hatter' as he talked to it like a mortal discussion, a hollow voice growled in his ear. "I can assist you with that, boy.."

Hiro reeled around, and his feet swerved into a freezing, rigid stance, but no individual, demon, or immortal (neither dramatic) was there. He was solitary in the woods with the talisman and his ideas for company.

The voice communicated again, now scarcely chortling at how ludicrous Hiro was acting, "I can introduce you to the enigmas of the amulet, boy. But, I sense that a scrawny little boy like you is not willing to yield the fee. Am I mistaken?"

Hiro wavered; negotiating with unearthly energies could result in a cataclysmic blockade, but he was frantic to break the curse; he was going frenetic every second that gave by; he would fiddle with the talisman, oddly jittery and exhausted. "What price must I pay?" he asked, his words crumpling out.

The voice conveyed again the poundage of each missive lowered on Hiro like 50 tons of gold sinking into him."A small thing, boy. Just a gewgaw from your pocket. But be warned; the cost may be ampler than you think."

Hiro reached into his satchel and hauled out a silver locket that had belonged to his mother; tears welled into his sumptuous water-logged eyes; he scuffed the tears away in sorrow,  he bore the locket to his soul, muttering apologies to his mother. He held it out to the air, lingering for the voice to reply.

Unexpectedly, a squall of currents swept through the woodland, the birds chirped and bolted away in clusters, and the grove fell hushed; Hiro sat on his knees, yearning for that puppy who would've scurried up to him, delighted, Hiro's mind unprepared for the worst that was yet to come. 

A callous hand grazed his cheek, and he sprang back in suspicion. "Show yourself..." he whispered, his words sounding firm but his tone frail.

The voice chortled, a drastic, mocking endeavour. "I am the one who harbours the legend to your redemption. Do not be spooked, boy. I can discern anxiety; I abhor anxiety, it leads to treachery and fallacies. I am here...."

Hiro felt a deluge of apprehension, and his mentality was driven by this mortal or immortal or unknown thing.  He obeyed the voice, his emotions still his but his body being possessed like a toy puppet with a kid.

The voice spoke again, its tone somewhat softer this time. "Take the talisman and hold it up to the light".

Hiro did as he was told, storing the talisman up to the flickering rays. As he did, the signs on its veneer started to illuminate, radiating a mild, pulsing glare on the surrounding trees.

He felt an overflow of vitality gushing through his body. He could perceive a passage opening up before him, ushering him deeper into the crux of the woods.

 He ambled forwards, and the possessive fiend-of-a-fellow, who Hiro was still grateful to, was gone; the witch's minions would be pausing for him, willing to quarrel, but he was glad. 

As Hiro embarked into the core, he felt that the further he traversed from the house, the more the forest appeared to come active. Peculiar noises parroted via the trees, and the underbrush rumpled as though something were prowling him.

He strode deeper; the trees seemed to close in around him, their branches confounding like nabbing fingers. The air grew stout with a sanity of foreboding, and the sound of his own footsteps reproduced through the quietude.

He had been probing for the witch for days, but each time he thought he was accumulating nearer, she eluded him like a wraith. The talisman he had discovered gave him expectancy, but it also made him more powerless. He could sense its power pounding through his veins, transforming him in ways he couldn't quite comprehend.

Hiro had always been a lucid man, but the longer he consumed his hours, days, weeks and months in the forest, the more he felt like he was renouncing his grip on reality. Shadows seemed to roll of their own unity, and he could hear sagas on the wafts that made his skin limp.

Despite his growing concern, he ploughed on, helmed by a zeal to end the conjurer nemesis once and for all. He knew that he was the only one who could intercept her, but he also knew that the expense of delinquency would be increased.

As the sun began to set, Hiro ultimately glimpsed a formation in the distance. It was the sorceress; he was sure of it. He hastened his gait, the talisman seething hot against his chest.

But as he tensed closer, he discovered that something was incorrect. The crone was besieged by a mob of hooded figures, and they all pivoted to confront him as one.

Hiro's heart palpitated in his chest as the hooded figures initiated to lock in around him. He contacted for his sword, but his hand felt strangely benumbed. He was in deep trouble; this was the end.

"Help...This is your fault, Hiro..." 

With intense deduction, Hiro braced himself for the wrangle to come, knowing that the fate of the forest rested on his shoulders...He soared away, gazing back; they would reach him again...