Chapter 22: Crimson Glade

A rosy path of blood and gore, with a putrid sight to follow. No cadavers were present within the wake of a grisly massacre, though the blood’s presence became a reminder of what remained.

The bodies from which the blood had spilt were nowhere to be seen, instead leaving a bloodstained grave with no carcasses; a crimson crypt devoid of its corpses.

It reeked of iron, wafting about amid dusky air. A pungent stench of the dead as they graced the murky fields with red.

The evertrees, whose bark was hazel brown, a victim as its surroundings were, for it was dyed red too. The path of blood reached the hazel timber, a painted scene of scarlet.

No aubade flare shone on the sky, nor were there stars to gaze upon.

It was as empty as his nightmares from when he fell down into the dark fissure. The sky was as empty as it came, and its malevolent stare dwelled on the dark figure. It walked the savage grounds, seeking what it sought.

His friend was missing.

He was no deviant that admired the gore, so the spectacle did not amount to anything much. Yet he was frighteningly calm of the outlandish scene, where a bloodbath with no bodies was his to peer and study.

Could he blame his accursed visor for such coldness? Or, more reasonably, was he already used to the curiosities of this world?

His apathy towards tragedy would either be a blessing or a curse.

Or perhaps it would be both. His mind was still in shambles, so he wouldn’t know.

★[Did someone drag the bodies away? But this much blood...] He expressed his concerns, vigilant of the silent woods. ★[How would they even do that?]

His distress was not without merit, as they decorated the sanguine grounds with pools of blood, and the efforts required to achieve such a grueling task; of dragging bodies away from the scene of crime was beyond his grasp.

Such efforts were better off to be spent in convenience. The logic behind such a ludicrous action was one he couldn’t unravel, though there was no point in doing so.

★[Wait, a second.]

He had an inkling of what happened, though it was quite absurd of him to think so. Yet he couldn’t simply brush it off.

★[Did Willow do this?]

An absurd premise came to mind, as he laughed in response to the absurdity. His image of her was one of kindness and sympathy, so the assumption was his to scorn.

Such a good-natured creature would be incapable of acting with such ferocity, and he couldn’t imagine the wisp do such deeds.

She was far too kind, just as she had shown him.

But it wasn’t far from the truth, either. If he, by some unfortunate happenstance, he were to cross the line... then he would not differ from the beasts of the forests.

He would be hers to slay. It was her duty to uphold the integrity of the Replicators, for she had to do so. And when she made those claims, they felt sincere enough to him.

He could only rely on her statement.

There came the possibility of a prodigious slaughter in her self-imposed role as an ‘executioner’.

A will o’ wisp, bearing the role of an Undertaker, whose strength surpassed his. By her warnings; that if he were to challenge the Replicators, he would join those who failed and fell.

She had killed many before him, and perhaps that would conclude his doubts.

But it was a big ‘if’. He did not pursue hostilities with the wisp, hence his passage through the Black Fog.

She never raised her spear against him once she’d determined that he would stay his hand towards her and the other Replicators. Her thoughts were governed by kindness, so such carnage would have not occurred, especially for a peace-loving individual like her.

Unless something drove her to act against the unknown threat. Her kindness never exceeded ignorance, for she set limitations between what was to be acknowledged as a boundary between hostile intentions and goodwill.

If someone, or something, perchance, were to cross the proverbial line, would they join the departed? If they acted against her, would they be bereft of life?

He could imagine the situation, though on a much smaller scale, and with little bloodshed. This bloodstained path was a banquet of massacre.

The extent to which the blood had spilled was far too vicious for someone such as her. For someone so small and gentle, she wouldn’t dare to steer far from the benevolent image he had of the wisp.

Though if she was responsible, it spoke of her capacity as a combatant. To paint the walls with red, in every corner of his surroundings, would require violence that transcended him.

★[That can’t be... right?]

He held the argument in his mind, and it convinced him of the truth. He wanted to laugh it off, but the notion would remain.

He never knew of her full strength, nor did she tell him her real capabilities.

★[Just how powerful was she?]

He resumed his stroll down the scarlet road as he followed the crimson tail. The trees thinned out, suggesting that a clearing was close by.

A route lead there, towards the scarcely scattered evertrees. The bloodstains lead there, too. He was near the trail’s end, though he did not know what would greet him.

He pondered upon what his knowledge alluded to, that Willow was to blame for this catastrophe. A belied analysis of the events, perhaps? He could still be wrong on his assumptions, as he simply derived what he knew from a lacking picture.

Willow had yet to appear before him.

★[Then again, I feel strangely attached to her presence. As if I want to stay with her...] He mused on what his mind thought of the wisp.

And as for the peculiarities, she held him pleasantly in his mind.

★[I somewhat cherish her. Is this because of our pact?]

It felt strange to be on sudden good terms with the will o’ wisp.

The boy had not forgotten the animosity he felt for her when the familiar gaze bore into his fury-stricken mind. He even unleashed a strike towards Willow, only to fail in his expense. The memory remained vivid, and it had only been a day since then.

And yet, his hatred had all but disappeared. He felt neither anger nor malice for Willow, and a desire to pursue proper accordance with the wisp displaced his adverse thoughts.

It was an unusual concoction of his mind, to befriend one he met recently, with the odd conception propelled further by the establishment of their contract.

The sentiment of peace was an artificial suggestion brought out by their pact. That was what he could surmise from the odd connection he felt between him and Willow.

An unnatural inclination that was one he agreed with. He needed her help to regard the unknown, and the wisp would continue to protect him, so long as they’ve reunited. Because, as of now, she remained to be seen.

He tailed the blood trails with no sign of the wisp.

★[Good grief, her disappearance is giving me so much trouble...] His words trailed off, as he mused on the proceedings of his rather brief life.

And his companion’s departure contributed to his stressful existence, much to his bubbling disdain.

He trudged on further, passing by the evertrees, and breathing in the dusky air. The scarlet trail grew fresher, and his steps grew numb as he scurried red.

The audible sound of blood-drenched feet in resonance with his hasty pace, and he rushed to the mildewed soil, though it was no longer an element as obvious as before.

This ground was far too crimson for the moldy ground to be seen.

★[I’m getting closer now...]

He grinned in anticipation, with high-held hopes of reuniting. Nonary had so many questions to ask of her, and she better repay him in kind.

★[I hope you don’t mind once I bombard you with a lot of scholarly queries, Willow.]

A nauseous scent ran thick in the ambience, and the streaks of blood grew fresh with his advance.

His steps were now faint, yet oddly rhythmic.

He couldn’t spare the expense of distractions, as he was close to the source of red. He expected the wisp to show himself at the bloody road he followed.

★[This awful smell...]

The odor had grown to purge his nose, as he gagged at the fetid scent. It was far too foul for him to abide by.

★[It’s revolting.]

The evertrees that once dotted the backgrounds had descended to a scant few, and the trail of blood passed through.

A faint light shone in the distance, beyond the boundary of trees. There seemed to be an expanse, albeit smaller than he expected. He suspected it was a clearing bound within the forest, and that he could not leave the twilit woods with ease.

As he regained his momentum in finding the flickering flame, he neared the space that held no trees. The trail led him there, towards the cryptic clearing.

His surroundings overtone suggested that what he sought to find would be held there, and that haste was required of him.

★[Would she really be here? Would it surprise me if she was?]

He was indecisive about the frail possibility of Willow's responsibility for the bloodbath. He couldn’t imagine her to act with such deviousness.

★[She’s no savage though. If she was, then why pretend like that? She could’ve easily killed me back then too...]

He clung to the benevolent image of Willow, a will-o’-the-wisp that valued integrity and justice; an executioner of those who trespass the values she established.

It wasn’t a sentiment he could easily discard, as doing so felt surreal to him. The pact seemed to have affected him more than he expected, and it was within his liberties to feel so.

Yet he couldn’t just drop his alliance with her, as doing so would have his safety compromised. Even if the companion he relied on turned out to be a bloodthirsty savage, he would have no choice but to adhere to her principles.

He still needed her help, and that fact would never change, even if she was not what he believed her to be.

Though... what was he supposed to do then? If Willow spun a web of lies to get his trust, he would still yield. She held all the cards to his existence: from his capabilities, to his delicate status as a Replicator.

If the wisp exposed her, then he would be caught and experimented upon by the hostile parties.

This dilemma of his, he was the one who fell within her grasp. He led himself to trust the words that Willow spoke, that she would protect him from prying eyes.

He believed in what she said, so they forged the pact. If there were any repercussions in doing so, he would be the one at fault. He expressed his consent, all because the wisp convinced him to.

Once the wisp had no need of him, would she discard him? A terrifying possibility, one that pierced him. Perhaps he would perish because of throwing himself into the unknown.

★[Once I’m no longer useful... what happens then? Is she going to kill me? Will she expose who I am? Is that what it is?]

His thoughts became misguided by fear, though he quickly dismissed such thoughts.

It didn’t feel right.

★[Wait, no. Let’s not jump to conclusions now. We don’t want to lose our only ally now, do we?]

Willow was his protector. He knew that to be true. He shouldn’t doubt her intentions, especially her innate kindness, that grasped his emotions. The boy felt calm around her, as if her presence hindered the creation of cynical thoughts.

It helped to stabilize his emotions.

★[Don’t forget that she allowed us to descend from that horrid castle. She also allowed us to pass through the accursed Black Fog, and that’s a big thing. If she didn’t help us, then we would be gone. That place would’ve swallowed us up, so get a grip.]

His stress kept building up. That must be the reason for his aversion towards her. He experienced much pain during his brief journey, and it showed.

He needed a break from his intense life. A bit of an exposure toward normalcy would do him good, or at least that was what he assumed. He doubted it would work.

★[She’s kind, and gentle, and trustworthy too. If you keep on doubting the people you meet, then why the hell are you trying to pursue civilization?! Especially when there’s bound to be countless folks walking around, doing their own things and then YOU SHOW UP AND TRY TO UPROOT THEIR PEACE BY SUSPECTING EVERYONE YOU INCORRIGIBLE ASS!!!]

Once he’d reached the first sign of civilization, his behavior would stand out and paint him to be a dangerous individual. He direly needed relative calmness, for his mind was chaotic as it was.

He wouldn’t possess the capacity to function as a proper citizen of any well-off governmental body if his thoughts caught discord from merely befriending a wisp.

★[I’m a fucking pansy...]

It was laughable for him to justify his turbulent mind. The least he could do was acknowledge how problematic he currently was.

★[At least I didn’t break down completely though, so that’s a plus. Still, why am I like this?]

He found the state of his mind to be more concerning, compared to the path of blood that he sauntered through.

His mind was abnormal, and his awareness of that fact already came to plague him.

He wasn’t normal, what with the strange circumstances that kept flinging themselves into him. An inability to comprehend median standards; it was his current problem.

But unlike before, he did not suffer from any emotional outbursts. As of now, he still held control over the grievances of his mind.

He was strangely stable, even though his thoughts were enough to undermine the undercurrents of his fragmented sanity. It was unprecedented compared to his previous fits of temper.

Something was siphoning his mental afflictions away, allowing him to keep calm. He welcomed this newfound aspect of his life, and he had the impression that it came about as a variable from his contract with Willow.

It felt refreshing to be in control; to finally have a restraint over the faulty aspects of his mind.

★[The caricatures of my sloven mouth are one I can do without, especially when it keeps making me say such slanderous words towards my ally.]

He admonished himself for vilifying Willow, as he owed the wisp for assisting him, and he’d yet to repay her for the meritorious deeds that she accomplished in his favor.

★[This is just the stress talking, so calm the fuck down for at least one second... you imbecile.]

His censure towards himself did not help in easing his regrets. That moment of skepticism weighed heavily on his mind, and it would continue to do so.

Or at least, until he found the wisp. He missed talking with a real, sapient, living being. His conversations with her did not make him seem... crazy. Insinuating conversations with himself did not help with his sanity.

★[Just a few more minutes...]

He assumed briskness, as he had delayed his excursions for a considerable time. The frontier awaited no one, and he would need to move on his own.

★[I’ll have my worries vanquished once I confirm her state.]

If he sought his companion’s condition and she was safe and sound, then his misgivings were uncalled for. He only needed a single glance at her ethereal form; just one.

Once he resolved his lingering doubts, then all would be well. He grew worried at the lack of an associate; it had starved him in social niceties for far too long.

★[Well then, time waits for no one...]

He made further haste, only to stop himself short.

He spoke of a relevant phrase, only to cringe at its significance. He uttered out a certain saying that pertained to time, with implications that Willow waited not for him; that she left him of her own volition.

Of course, this was just his imprudence speaking. It did not represent an accurate frame of mind.

★[Stop overthinking you prick!]

He resumed his solitary stroll, albeit tense and stressed by the desolate woods.

An empty sky, a hushed forest, and a bloodstained path.

A prideful stride for him; he who brandished the intricate knife, auric and argent. An ebony receptacle with a green-lit visor that showed his gaze. And a sable cloak, whose cloth was leathered and rugged, hiding secrets untoward.

His attire seemed out-of-place, regarding the world of fantasy.

And so he continued to wander, ever-mindful of the enigmatic forest. A heavy wind, distinct and severe, descended upon the carmine grove.

He held the blade by his side, a preface to what had yet to come. He knew not what to expect, and what to be wary of. The hushed woods carried dangers, and he would meet its hidden threats.

It was far too peaceful.

★[You should’ve told me why you left, Willow.] He expressed distress over the matter, though he remained to be alone. No one answered him.

A dark form that wandered the woods, to be led astray by a foolish flame. How fitting, as the will-o’-the-wisps are said to mislead travelers, resembling the flickering of lamplit boulevards.

Would these delusive lights lead astray him, as the will o’ wisps proclaimed? The flame he knew was far too kind for such decadents vices, though he only knew her barely.

Yet he trusted her.

A hollow twilight world, naught but reddened trees, and pungent wintry breeze, though the wind had warmed by passing time, as fresh blood mingled with the air.

The muffled gales, nearly silent as they came to pass, were wrought with the dead’s scent. That he would near his mark.

The trail would end soon.

[I need answers so... here I go!] With high hopes, the boy proceeded.

He invaded the clearing, and he saw what he sought.

A will o’ wisp stood at its terminus, a flickering flame.

And the dead gave way for him, as he loomed closer.

★[Willow...]

By the sanguine meadow’s heart, the companion he sought was there.

★[Did I believe wrong?]

Of blood and bone, the crimson glade sheltered a mountain, one made of the departed. The fallen ones, they were not of the sapient races.

Lupine creatures; of fur and fang and sharpened claws were its decoration. A mound of the dead whose blood dripped anew, a lake of red in its stead.

The ruby pasture, a glimpse of the wilderness, carried the dead in their eternal sleep.

Willow stood by its center, hovering above the bloodhound’s grave. Hundreds of corpses, held astrung by gleaming strings, as they converged upon the singularity of flames, and they flared in blood-red lights it shed.

Tendrils of light, ones that belonged to her, stretched upon the vast expanse as the flames swallowed them up. The corpses... they caught ablaze.

A funeral pyre for the wolves she slew.

★[What are you doing?]

The horrors didn’t affect him much. A strange happenstance where he feared nothing at all. He was strangely calm.

★[What's with this gruesome sight?]

Of the pools of blood and scattered remains, they stirred nothing in his mind. Neither fear nor dread was his to know, and he cared little for the dead.

Much of his concern came as distress, for why he felt so indifferent to the grisly sight. His apathetic state did not coincide with his expected response.

‘I think I’m insane.’

Indeed he was, for the coldness he possessed made him uncaring. The eldritch sight invoked none of his dwindling fears.

★[Hey, answer me.]

He further asked, as he grew curious at the wisp, who stared back in confusion. Far from his expected response, Willow gazed at him with worry.

★[What in the world are you doing here?]