Old Cottage, Elderwoods, Early Morning

The warming rays of the morning sun gently nudged me from my nightly slumber. As I had grown accustomed to over the past few days, I rose from the carpeted floor. I sat silently for several minutes, humming that sweet melody, if only to briefly escape my current reality.

~

" We lived in a world where wrong was right."

"Where the true terrors trapped us in endless fright."

"Now they are just memories of a dark bygone day."

"A plague hope gladly swept Away."

~

Those were lyrics from my favourite song that Mother would sing to us every night before bed until we were twelve. "Emerge Thou Our New World" was its name, sung by a Siren a lifetime ago. 

She performed it in the heart of the "Great Pulsing Sea" to celebrate the new era after the war was won. Her enchanting voice was carried across the waves and over all the lands thanks to the Spirits, reaching every corner of this world and touching the hearts of all who heard it. A gentle piece one could remember whenever they needed calming.

Though, it doesn't always work.

"Mother? Father? . . . What's happening? Brother, what happened to them?! Why are they standing like that? … Why is their skin so hard, like stone?! W-What's is this?!"

The words slipped out as tears welled up in my eyes, the memory of that terrible day flooding back, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

"Tch!"

I force the memory away, trying not to let it spoil the morning more than it already has., Instead, I try to focus on how the sun's warmth felt upon me as it slowly filled the old cottage, its rays chasing away the cold remnants of the night.

"…Sigh… Brother, it's morning... Time to wake up…"

Only silence met my words.

"Brother?"

I turned to my left, expecting to see him still curled up in the space beside me. The spot was empty, holding only the faint imprint of where he'd slept.

"He already woke up? This early?"

I got up and glanced around the old, run-down cottage—a far cry from the comfort we once knew. The door was slightly ajar, so I walked over and opened it fully, greeted by the morning chorus of birds in the trees and the sight of miscoloured mushrooms sprouting just outside the weathered fence.

-SLICE-

And the sound of a knife cleaving through the flesh of a giant, fat toad, breaking the stillness.

"Oh, we're gonna eat well today!"

A cluster of toads, equally plump, lay with their legs severed, the dismembered limbs piled high.

"When did you wake up?" I asked.

"It wasn't as bright as it is now... I think."

-SLICE-

Another leg was cleaved from its body and tossed onto the growing heap.

"There's a pond a few yards back down the path. They were all nestled there, so I helped myself to a few."

"This is a few?" I asked, eyeing the mound of bodies and limbs.

"It's enough for both of us. What, finally on some diet now or something--?"

BAM!

"--Argh!"

I answered with a swift smack to the back of his head, sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his stinging skull, which only seemed to amplify the pain as if dousing his inflamed nerves with a flammable liquid. The sight made me burst into laughter.

"Dammit, sis! … I think you broke something," Brother whined as he held his hands at where I had struck him. "Sis, seriously, my brain's in here! What if you damaged it?!"

"You mean it wasn't damaged already?" I shot back with a mischievous grin as he scrunched up his face.

"Oh, don't you dare start with that crap now!" he whined, slowly getting back up, one hand still pressed to his head.

I giggled and scooped up the pile of frog legs into my arms. "Fried or boiled?"

"Boiled… please," he muttered, still sulking.

-~-

About ten minutes later, we sat down, eating our makeshift breakfast. 

"Nom-Nom!—Damn, for how crazy that loony old bag was—Nom-Nom!—I'm glad she had enough sanity—Nom!—to stash some decent seasoning in that dusty basement—Nom!" Hiroshi mumbled between bites, his mouth full of boiled seasoned frog legs.

"It was a miracle we found the stash when we did. Since… well… you know." 

"Yeah… she was batshit insane, and speaking of which, are you—"

I waved my hand before he could finish. I knew what he wanted to ask.

"I've told you already, brother, I'm fine. And before you say it, you know I've been taking it easy since we left that mess."

"Yeah, well., I'm sorry that I care. Now be a delight and pass me a tea bag, will you?"

I reached into the brown pot, grabbed a bag, and dropped it into his cup, watching him fill it with hot water.

"Tsk. No sugar, no ginger, and no milk. I'll never really enjoy this."

"Just be grateful for what you have and drink it."

"Yeah, yeah, I will… but still—"

"Drink it!" I cut him off.

He groaned and took a reluctant sip. I watched him grimace at the taste, barely able to keep the smirk off my face.

My name's Amaye Karugame, and the dumbnut across from me, pulling faces like he's just swallowed expired poison, is my twin brother, Hiroshi. 

For the last month, we've been watching each other's backs while within these paradoxical woods called Elderwood. I call them "paradoxical" because it's the only way to describe a place where thorny, dead, eerie trees somehow coexist with vibrant, soothing, and lively greenery—sense only seems to exist when you're lost in the middle of it.

The last few days have been a far cry from reasonable, holed up in this miserable, rotten cottage that's barely held together by spit and prayers. But with the choice between this and another cold, rainy night, I'd say my clothes have soaked up so much water finding this place they'd beg for the cottage, too.

Of course, the cottage isn't ours. It belonged to someone—some wrinkly, haggard, poultry-scented old lunatic of a someone. Her hobbies? Luring in any poor lost soul who stumbled her way, playing the part of a kindly old crone, and then deciding whether they'd taste better with a side of overcooked, mouldy veggies—her words, not mine.

As luck would have it, we were supposed to be her long-awaited five-star dinner. Her kicking of her lips was a dead giveaway.

Now, if we'd been completely a different creature—a goblin, a troll, or maybe even a snooty, holier-than-thou elf—she might have already skipped off with a bloated belly, feeling refreshed and ready to dance through a field of half-dead, rotten flowers.

But fate had other plans for her. Instead, she spent her final wretched moments stewing in her own cauldron, filled to the brim with boiling oil muck, sour seasoning, and her overblown ego. Those spin-kick lessons were worth it.

I have to admit, I'm still a bit baffled. How did our ocean-blue hair, styled like mirrored glass (mine cascading neatly to my knees, his a shorter, spiked mess that looked like a carefully curated disaster), and our eyes that gave of ethereal glows not give us away? In a place like this, even. We weren't exactly your average trekkers.

But then again, we were soaked through from heavy rain; it was the dead of night, and she was an ancient, batty relic. Maybe it's just as well she didn't catch on sooner; otherwise, we'd be the victims of cannibalism. 

"Can't believe we got played just because she looked so inviting," Hiroshi muttered, still grimacing from the taste of the tea.

"Yeah, for a while, it almost felt wrong to do what we did, considering how kind and friendly she seemed," I replied.

"Well, at least she showed her true colours in the end. Made what came after a lot easier to stomach."

"Mhm."

We finished our makeshift breakfast, packing up without bothering to clean, given the circumstances.

"So, you want the honours, or should I? Cause personally, I was her intended appetizer, " Brother asked.

"Oh, please. She was planning to force me to cook you. I have every reason to do it."

"...Best two out of three, then?"

"Prepare to lose again."

We raised our fists.

"Rock! Paper! Scissors! … DRAW!"

-~-

The basement was a disaster as if a siege had ripped through it. Shelves that once held jars, bookcases, and chests filled with stolen trinkets now framed the aftermath of a brutal struggle. Oddly enough, I don't remember last night's fight causing this much damage—or maybe I just hadn't cared enough to notice then like I do now.

When we descended, we made our way toward the lifeless body still partially submerged in the cauldron tucked in the corner. The once-boiling muck had long since cooled and gone stale, but that didn't stop the rancid stench from filling the room. The real pain, though, was getting her out. For an old, bony hag, she was ridiculously heavy. It took us nearly a quarter of an hour, straining every bit of our combined strength, to finally drag her free. When we did, she rolled lifelessly onto her back, revealing the full extent of the damage we never cared to wonder … or so we thought.

"Damn... Either there was still a fair amount of magic flowing through her, or we didn't crank up the heat enough. How's her face still... well, I was going to say 'intact,' but—"

About sixty percent of her face was cooked, with large, red blisters bubbling across her green skin where the muck had scorched her. Oddly enough, the strands of hair that had been submerged with it looked like they had regained a few years of life.

"Alright, Brother, hold her head up while I work through her wrinkly old neck."

"You gonna go for a clean slice? Could bump up the value a bit."

"I was considering it, but that feels like too much of a luxury service, doesn't it?"

" Yeah, Fair point. Let her have it."

"Pleasures all mine –Hragh!"

The slow, grating sound of steel cutting through flesh filled the air, carving through her neck with precision. Weak bones cracked under pressure, the process dragging on for a perfect five minutes. Dark purple blood sprayed everywhere, hitting us like a garden hose gone wrong. A few drops landed on my lips, and I instinctively licked them off. Tasted just like prawn cocktail crisps… awful.

—rrrrriiiippppp—

"There we go," Brother said, hoisting up the old hag's severed head. "One severed head of bagged old crone, in relatively decent quality."

"We did it… finally. Four weeks of risking our lives, and it's over."

"Not quite, Sis… this is just the beginning of the end. Now we've gotta haul this back and face one last obstacle… which reminds me."

He glanced to his left, eyes settling on three objects spared from the carnage: a crystal ball, a large tome, and a sizable turquoise polka-dotted mushroom.

"We still have one last thing to take care of… and then it's fingers crossed from here."