Kymil's POV:
About a week ago a Human was captured by the Spirit.
I found it a bit strange that he would completely ignore the agreement made between the kingdoms and the great clans and venture so deep into the forest, but they were always a foolish species. Nothing surprising.
He was a weird one. It seemed like he knew nothing about the woods and it's surrounding lands. Has Human culture become that deranged?
While being imprisoned here, all of us had lost something. Whether physically or a piece of mind, no one was spared. That Human, Ray, on the other hand, seemed unaffected. He talked to the others like he wasn't in the same situation as us. Expressing his condolences, his hate for the Spirit and his unyielding desire for revenge.
I noticed him goading the others into fighting the Spirit, but decided to ignore it. The outcome won't change no matter what we do, so why not let them make one last effort?
....
Slowly the others began to change. The former insanity brought by despair and sorrow transformed into one driven by bloodlust and vengeance.
I could feel that Ray had something different in mind than what he told us, but who was I to judge him? After all, I didn't become their leader, because they wanted me to or because it was the 'right thing' to do. It was just the safest position available. As much as the Spirit instilled fear into the others, killing their 'leader' off would just unnecessarily destabilize the situation.
Ray seemed to work hard towards his goal. Day and night he was busy.
Sharpening wood to make pikes, listening to stories to expand his knowledge and spreading propaganda. In a sense, he was even more of a madman than we. Never resting, never losing sight of his goal.
....
When his preparations slowly came to an end, Ray held a 'motivational speech,' or so he called it. Railing the others up, ready to fight.
These days I forgot more and more, why we were even clinging to this life so persistently. Nothing of what we knew remained. All that we loved so blurred. So why not let it all end?
But the others seemed to be of different opinion. They still held a desire for revenge and restoration. Whether it was their trust in the great clans or the reignited kindle of hope that let them keep going, their motivation was only rising.
....
After some upheaval and unexpected occurrences, we escaped the prison that bound us for so long.
Strolling through the tall grass, while hiding from the remaining Lõtv, we observed the clearing.
It seemed Ray was more than interested in the graves of our fallen friends, stopping at every chance to steal a glance.
We had to hurry as the time we had was highly limited, yet the Spirit, our primary target, had vanished as if swallowed by the earth. At this rate, we would have to risk fleeing, without actually accomplishing anything.
Still, a chance for some to live is better than for all of us to die.
But before I decided to do anything, I wanted to ask for Ray's input, as he led this operation.
He was still distracted by the graves, not even realizing our dilemma.
Only after I warned him did he understand the problem, but instead of looking troubled, a strange glint flashed in his eyes.
He instructed us to spread out and look for the Spirit. With some of the Lõtv already walking away from the house, it didn't seem like we had much of a choice.
I sneaked further into the clearing, using every bit of shade and shrubbery to remain hidden.
As I crept around the structures of our former village, I lost sight of the others but came to see something entirely different.
Two Lõtv were dragging another one along the ground. Blood marking the way they came.
A single pike stuck out of the dead Lõtv's neck, no other wounds visible.
It must have been an instantaneous death.
'Slightly injured, he said...SLIGHTLY INJURED!'
There was no doubt it was the Lõtv, Ray attacked to attract the attention of the others. The poor child. First enslaved and forced to attack his own people, only for it to die in the name of liberation. Is there a more miserable fate?
But where were they bringing him? The villagers were just covered with a bit of earth and going by the Spirits personality it certainly wouldn't arrange a proper funeral for of its minions.
Thinking I could find the Spirit by following the Lõtv, I moved along the bloody trail. Broken structures and houses marked the way. Houses we used to call our homes.
Without the memory of before their destruction, I would have never been able to recognize these piles of dilapidated materials as buildings. Half of what made them up had been transported somewhere else, leaving only ruins behind.
I already knew the Spirit was building something, but what could possibly need so many materials?
As the three former Elves disappeared behind a corner, I stuck close to a wall...or what was left of it. Yet before I could turn my head to look beyond it, the Spirit's voice reached my ears.
"What is that ruckus over there! This one is busy, don't be so loud!"
Silence followed. Did the Lõtv ignore him? It seemed unlikely as he is effectively their master.
Shortly the Spirit spoke up again "Hihihi, a fight you say...Isn't that exciting! This one was getting worried those geezers wouldn't provide any more fun!"
"But now that you mentioned those lovely donators...wasn't there a new arrival...a Hume?"
Again, no one answered. At least not out loud. I remembered at that moment that I never saw the kids talk again after their transformation.
The ritual must have connected the Spirit to them on a deeper level.
But if that was the case, was it even safe to harm the Spirit? What if the children get hurt in the process, and...did Ray know about this?
As I was still immersed in my thoughts the seemingly one-sided conversation continued.
"Anyway, this one will soon finish building the shrine. Let's play with them until then."
'Shrine?'
I knew I should have gone back and regrouped with the others, but my curiosity got the best of me. Leaning to the side, I peeked at the three of them.
What I saw would burn itself into my eyes for the rest of my days.
A gigantic monument, in form of a pyramid, stood in the former residential area, hidden by the buildings around it. Stairs led up to the top, ending in a flat peak, it's four corners erecting a dome of dried leaves and dead wood. On each branch and each weed, bulging forms tried to break out from within, a silent scream passing each time they faded. On this great monolith, what stood out the most though wasn't it's size or crown of dread. It was the dozens of limbs and guts, seemingly growing out of it. Some were twitching, some pulsing, others were continually breaking up and repairing themselves, pus spewing out of them, coating the entire construction in a mix of yellow and red fluids.
Not even ten seconds had passed, when a shrilling voice resounded like the devils' whisper.
"Hohoo...Have you gotten lost o' leader of the Elves?"
Its body remaining on the spot, the Spirits neck turned to an impossible degree. The white eyes, I still saw in my nightmares, were staring, once again, into my soul.
Fear overwhelmed me like a tide, threatening to drown me. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even utter a prayer in thought. The memory of that fateful day replaying in my mind as an endless loop.
"Hihihi...Quite scared, aren't you? Maybe you forgot because you didn't go out in a while, but in these woods, nobody sneaks up on this Spirit!"
My eyes darted around, looking for some kind of way out. The courage I once had was long gone, buried with the half of our village. A hollow shell was all that was left.
I wasn't the youngest anymore. Long before the Spirit came around to steal our vitality, my youth started to fade. Elves possess, compared to Humans and other species, almost boundless longevity. If the circumstances are right, we can easily live up to 200 years and beyond, but only those who live that long know that such a life isn't necessarily a blessing.
With age comes wisdom, love and maturity, but also pain, grief and misery.
Although your decaying body screams with agony at every movement, the darkness you see when death extends its grasp out to you installs fear even in the bravest of men. To escape the eternal sleep, Humans and Elves alike do everything in their power to delay the inevitable, extending the torment just a bit further.
The longer you live, the more you come to realize these things.
And the longer you live, the more come to hate these things.
Despite all, I still clang to life. I didn't want to die. Not here. Not now.
With the Spirit right in front of me, time was essential.
Running away wasn't an option, but so was fighting.
Backed into a corner, I didn't even notice the ever so slowly rising temperature or thickening air.
Fortunately, the Spirit was much more sensitive than I was.
Its head twitched around, nose high up in the air, searching for a cause.
"Mhh?...What is that smell? And why is it getting warmer?"
Born within the Forest, in absolute tranquility, the Spirit's experience was minimal. What didn't occur naturally within such an environment was essentially wholly foreign to it.
A light sound of crackling was added to the mix of unfamiliar stimuli.
Already agitated by the earlier disturbance, it was the straw that broke the camels back.
Closing its eyes for a moment, the Spirit jumped up in an adorable manner and dashed into the village.
With a drenched back, I stared at it running. The Spirits neck was still twisted, but that didn't seem to bother it. The excitement of its new toy must have been too big for it to care.
Was I that inconsequential? Abandoned for a Smell and some rise in temperature. To keep it short, yes. It was sure that for whatever reason I was there, I wouldn't be able to accomplish it.
But as baffled as I was by the development of my encounter with the Spirit, whatever attracted its attention couldn't be good for our plan.
Unexpected occurrences seldom help one achieve one's goals.
The ominous monument still before me, I shuffled back. The fear I felt when near this place only fueled my desire to regroup with the others.
And although I couldn't run with this old body, I still felt the scenery pass before me faster than ever. The wrecked houses and destroyed trees turned into a blur, leaving only the wind, crashing into my face, as an indicator of time and distance. Its scent, reminiscent of sulfur and burning flesh, attacked my nostrils, throwing my thoughts into a mess.
All I could think of was getting back to the others. I had to tell them something was going on.
Now that the Spirit was on alarm, we wouldn't have a chance to confront it alone anymore. Fighting it with the children by its side would be plain suicide. As scattered as we were I didn't expect to find and essentially rescue all of us, but I still had to try.
Trotting along our abandoned village, I had long lost sight of the bloodstained path I had followed while tailing the Lõtv. I kept going not knowing which direction I was running in. For all I knew, around the next corner the Spirit could have waited, but something kept pushing me further. I couldn't stop.
After a while of traveling in a trance, I noticed hurried footsteps coming into my direction. Clearing my head from all the unnecessary thoughts, I lowered my stance and got into position to receive whatever would come at me. Although it was a sorry excuse of a fighting stance, I had to work with what I had.
To my surprise, it wasn't a Lõtv or even a new enemy. One of my comrades, old as he was, came running from a building not far of, his face eyes wide open, shouting something I couldn't quite hear yet.
As I reached out to him, trying to calm his unrest, he dashed into another pathway, out of my sight, leaving only his mad screams behind. To my apprehension, I had to discover that the others who were searching for the Spirit with me and Ray, were similarly rushing past me, not even sparing a glance. Bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair and black stains a commonality amongst them.
For the first time in, what felt like an eternity, I looked up into the sky. I didn't have any particular reason to and in retrospective, I wish I hadn't done so.
In the darkest hour of the night, the once peaceful sky of the forest lit up with a ferocity no dawn could bring. Small white stars fell from the heavens, burning as bright as their message of the end. Their brethren mourning the loss, as they opened a gaping hole, showing the disaster in its full glory. Even the all-illuminating moon was devoured by the Gnaw of the dancing flames.
Under all the atrocity sat a single man, leaning over a lifeless body. His complexion resembling the body beneath him, he stared, without blinking or change in expression, at his hands.
With hell descending on earth, he sat at a dug up grave, his emotions visible...even to the far-off me.