Fyn.
Panic took over Fyn's mind the exact moment an old woman placed the very same macabre flower crown he had associated with death on top of his head. Thoughts of the endless pain he would experience once he reached the woods crept up in his mind. What if he never got to see the dawn break? What if the demon decided he wanted his death a few steps into his domain? Wave after wave of anxiety kept coming, and Fyn tried his hardest to stop his tears from falling.
Desperate for some form of relief, he sought every solution. Ignoring it, working through it, using it to fuel his strength. But nothing seemed to work. He even repeated the same rhyme that often brought him comfort, but right now, it was nothing but a jumbled collection of letters. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. He took a deep breath, and then another. When he opened his eyes again, an old woman was looking at him with a worried expression.
"Don't run away now," The woman reprimanded, lifting his chin up. "Many people are depending on you. It's about time that you become useful to your town, Fyn."
His lips trembled, "You... you know it's not supposed to be me."
"The bride is whoever wears the crown," The woman said, her eyes falling on the small white flowers adorning Fyn's curly black hair. It looked like snowflakes. He would have appreciated it if it didn't mean certain death. "There's no one here who's wearing the crown aside from you."
Averting his gaze, he stared at his wrists. Thankfully, the chief had decided that he no longer needed to be tied down. There on his skin were bloodied red welts. Even with the ointment that the woman had placed there, he could still feel the pain. He let his fingers trail his wrist slowly, flinching from the pain it brought. It felt sore and all he could do was sigh.
"It's time," He heard Hana's voice say from behind him. With all the thoughts running through his mind at that moment, he didn't even hear her enter the room. "Everyone's waiting to meet this year's bride."
Fyn had never considered himself an aggressive person. The most he had ever gotten to experiencing something akin to anger was when he realized a raven had dropped pebbles one by one into one of his pitcher jars, allowing it to drink. The day had been hot, and he had been looking forward to drinking from his water jar only to discover there was nothing there.
He had felt anger then.
But nothing could compare to the intense pure fiery rage he felt building up inside of him.
Fyn had the urge to smash something. Preferably porcelain, something that would crack, and would injure Hana's face until her outward appearance could reflect just how rotten she truly was inside. Anger thrummed through his veins. Scowling, he clenched his fists. He hissed through clenched teeth, "You're going to regret doing this one day."
Hana flipped her hair, looking at her nails, "Maybe one day, but not today."
Then, with her sharp nails, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him outside. The sun shined brightly, and Fyn looked up, lifting one of his hands to shield his eyes away from the sudden illumination. Adjusting to the light, he looked around. Townsfolk looked at him with curious glances. The sudden attention made him flush. Back at his hut, he had been alone. Their stares felt heavy, and all Fyn wanted was for the ground to open up and eat him whole.
"Well?" Hana hissed, "Walk towards the platform and lift the torch up."
He felt her hand push him behind his back and he stumbled forward. Steadying himself, he was sure that if his knees had been weak, he would have fallen on the ground, flat on his face. Gulping, he felt his blood run cold. The path towards the platform where the concave mirror was only but a few steps away. Still, with all that he's feeling, it seemed like it was miles away from him.
Forcing himself to focus on the platform, he pushed himself forward. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead down to the middle of his back, but he tried his hardest to remain strong.
At least in his last moments, they would see him as someone brave.
Even though he felt anything but.
Especially when he heard the townsfolk murmuring to themselves.
"Isn't that... a man?"
"Are you sure the demon wouldn't punish us if we sent him that?"
"Mommy, why is a man wearing flower crowns, would the demon want him as a bride? Can a man and a man even get married? Mommy?"
With each step he took, the closer he got to the platform. Until he was there, at the bottom, staring at the mirror on top of the wooden makeshift stage. Nodding to himself, he takes a deep breath and climbed up, grabbing a torch that the men had prepared. He places it just below the mirror and moved it so that it could reflect and focus the Sun’s rays. Enough to start a fire.
After a few moments, fire erupts at the top of the torch. Satisfied, he grips the lit torch on his right hand. Following tradition, he lifts it up with his right hand. His eyes falling on every single townsfolk who would become an accessory to his death. When his eyes reached where Hana and the chief were, he narrowed his eyes and stood straight.
This is unfair.
Gritting his teeth, he gripped the torch, and with as much strength as he could muster, he threw it to the ground. Just below the conniving father and daughter duo. Hana squeaked, the tips of her long skirt almost burning from the fire. The chief bellowed orders, pointing towards the torch and telling his men to put it out.
Almost choking on his rage, Fyn barked, "This is unfair!"
"You!" The chief bellowed, his voice turning into a terrifying octave. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"
Fyn answered back, "Have you completely lost your mind?"
Hana's shrill laughter echoed across the village square. It overpowered the gasps and murmurs of the townsfolk. The people of Gashea were strict when it came to following traditions. The mere throwing of the symbolic torch could mean their certain downfall. Fyn couldn't even care.
If he was going down, might as well bring everyone with him.
"Y-you," Hana stammered, closing the distance between them and grabbing his hair roughly. Fyn gasped, falling down to his knees. Grabbing Hana's wrist, he tried to pry her fingers away from his hair. To no avail, his body fell more to the dirty ground as she started dragging him through the gravelly pavement. "Breaking tradition, scandalizing this important event, and probably angering the demon. You're just wishing for death, aren't you?"
Fyn grit his teeth, "You broke tradition first by putting someone else in your place. You should be the offering, not me!"
"Hah," Hana cackled again, her eyes turning crazy wide. Fyn gasped at the sight, tremors of fear coursing through his body. "If you don't want to honor tradition, might as well not wait for nightfall. Give me the bride's cloaks!"
Immediately, the familiar cloak entered Fyn's field of vision. The same old woman who placed the flower crown on him had pushed the brown cloak towards Hana's free hand. Fyn could feel the erratic beating of his heart when he noticed Hana was dragging him towards the forest. Tremors started to rattle his body, and he tried yet again to remove Hana's hold of his hair. His scalp was hurting. The girl truly had a powerful grip.
"Let go!"
Hana huffed, "No!"
Before he knew it, the townsfolk started disappearing from his sight. The only ones remaining and following them were the chief and some of his men. He was familiar with two of them, they were the ones that kidnapped him. Before he knew it, Hana had pushed him down on the ground, throwing the brown cloak in his direction.
"Wear it," She demanded. "Wear it and be proud, demon's bride!"
At first, he didn't move. He simply stared at the cloak. The same brown cloak that the other brides had worn. The same brown cloak he watched drift through the river behind his lone hut away from the village. He knew the villagers had dozens of cloaks. Still, with the lack of resources, he couldn't help but feel like they might have just stripped down a random corpse and taken the cloak it had been wearing.
The chief crouched before him, "Are you going to wear it, or do I have to make my men force it on you?"
Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the cloak and wore it. It felt rough on his skin.
"I can manage," He spat, standing up, posture straight. "Leave."
The chief shook his head, "This is the first time we're going to watch a bride walk through the forest in broad daylight. We want to see how the forest would consume them. Now, walk, Fyn. We don't want to throw you there unconscious."
He wondered if everything had just been a tremendous joke.
Maybe he was just having a bad dream, and he was still sleeping on his bed, inside the safety of his hut. As the wind blew, sending loose strands of his hair across his cheeks, he knew this was his life. His village has betrayed him, they brought him towards his death, they were going to watch him die. This was happening.
And he might as well just get it over with.
Jutting his chin, he lifted the hood of his cloak and wore it proudly. Placing his hands inside the deep pockets of the brown cloth they had just given him. Brave, he whispered softly in his mind, Be brave. With a tight-lipped smile, he turned back to glance at them once and shook his head, chuckling.
He wished for their morbid deaths.
Then he started walking, his eyes never straying away from the road.
It didn't take long for the woods to consume him. The forest looked weird in broad daylight. For a second, he thought he was never in the forest of Gashea. The forest he was currently in looked whimsical, like it was from a storybook. Leaves and vines surrounded the top of his head, insects and butterflies flew all around him in a mixture of vibrant colors.
He smiled softly. Maybe the demon would ignore him and let him live in the forest in peace.
A wail echoed in the sky.
Fyn froze.
Behind him, he felt a rush of air, followed by a loud thump that shook the earth. Blood drains from his face, and his knees felt wobbly.
It was behind him.
Feeling both dumb and courageous, Fyn slowly turned around.
And his eyes widened.
A large man with broad shoulders stood behind him. Haphazardly cut short hair covered its vibrant red eyes. Its chest was bare, and Fyn shamelessly looked at the toned body behind him. Dozens of scars crisscrossed the otherwise perfect skin. Around its waist was an animal pelt hung over gray pants. And over everything was a ragged, black hooded pelt.
"Mortal," Its voice was deep, "Why are you here?"
Fyn felt something stir inside of him.
He wanted to slap himself.
Blood rushed to his face at the realization.
Especially since he was certain that it was most definitely not fear that he felt.
Fyn. Two jagged antlers that seemed to be as thick as leather rested neatly on the demon's forehead.Fyn had been too busy ogling at the demon's attractive form that he missed this. Of course, he thought, He was a demon. He could choose any form he wanted. Why would he settle on something monstrous when he could look like a god?Fyn's eyes fall on the demon's chest. There were markings, symbols Fyn couldn't quite decipher on it. They were dark, smoking, and even seemed to glow. The demon took a step forward, making Fyn jolt in place. Almost immediately, he felt his heart beat against his chest, his arms raised up in defense purely by instinct. The demon tilts its head at Fyn's action, and Fyn swore he saw something akin to curiosity flicker in them.Again, the demon walked towards him, its muscular legs carrying his demonic body with such a calm aura that if Fyn hadn't known it was the demon in front of h
Fyn. Fyn looked up at the demon's eyes as it pressed the jagged rock he was clutching near its throat.Gritting his teeth once more, he clenched his jaw and his fist along the hard rock. This was an opportunity, wasn't it? Fyn was familiar with hunting, even though he rarely did it. He once hunted for small game, like rabbits, fawns, and sometimes even boars.He knew that a slice to the jugular would mean immediate death.And if he were to grab this opportunity, then that would mean the village of Gashea wouldn't experience any more misfortune under the hands of some malevolent demon.Still, as he looked at the demon's eyes, Fyn felt like something was wrong. A powerful demon such as the one that was in front of him surely wouldn't look like they were ready to embrace death. Surely, even demons could feel fear. The demon's eyes looked welcoming, like it was waiting for Fyn to just kill him. He already felt as if the
Fyn. Fyn didn't know how long he stared at the demon, but it was probably long enough that the demon got tired and left him there, gawking.If he had been red before, he knew that his face probably turned a deep shade of red enough to consider him a tomato. Had the demon actually brought him something to eat? Surely not. Still, if the demon didn't eat fruits, why would he bring a wide variation of them? Did the demon usually feed his captives before killing them? Nothing made sense.Blinking after a long while, Fyn followed the direction of where the demon had gone to. The cave system was dark, but he could hear the demon's wings flapping as he walked. He might still be near. Taking a deep breath, Fyn placed the fruit back inside the rucksack and placed the entire thing near one of the walls. After he secured it, he combed his hand through his hair and slowly walked towards where the demon was.Was there a different demon
Fyn. It was dark out when Kavan returned.Havu had nestled himself comfortably around Fyn's shoulders. They were leaning against the entrance of the cave, waiting for Kavan's return. Kavan landed safely by the cliffside, kneeling as he drew back his wings back inside his skin. The whole scenario felt bizarre, but Kavan did it magnificently. Once his wings were perfectly back inside his skin, he turned around and stopped in place.Kavan's eyes fell on Havu, and it narrowed slightly at the sight. With a growl, Kavan grits his teeth, "Havu, why are you on the mortal's shoulders?"The snake slithered off Fyn's shoulders and went towards Kavan. Crouching down, Kavan extended his arm towards the snake. Fyn watched as the snake round around the demon's arm, nestling just above his head, hanging off his antlers. Kavan stared at the snake's eyes, and Fyn knew they were sharing a silent conversation. With a stiff nod, Kavan's gaze f
Fyn. A vine that carried many grapes lowered just in front of Fyn's head.By how Havu tightened around his waist, Fyn knew the smart choice would be to just accept whatever it was the forest was giving him. Scowling, he took a handful of grapes. His mouth automatically watered at the sight of the luscious fruit. With how it smelled, he knew it would be sweet and tasty. When the grape seemed to melt inside his mouth like butter, he tried his best not to moan out loud."The forest is starting to annoy me," Fyn said loudly to Havu. "Why are they forcing me to stay here?"Havu slithered off his waist and started to climb up the path towards Kavan's cave. And as if teasing him, the serpent turned its head back and darted its forked tongue out of its mouth. The same smooth voice echoes inside of Fyn's head, "It is time to go. From what I had learned, it is always the wise decision to listen to what the forest tells you. It is fu
Kavan. Kavan stared at the white flowers on top of the mortal's head.He knew damn well what the forest was implying, and he would rather face death instead of doing whatever it is they wanted him to do. It was already annoying that the mortal had to stay at his abode, but to have the forest take care of him? Gritting his teeth once more, he grabbed the crown of flowers from the mortal's head and threw it roughly on the ground.Then he grabbed the vine that wrapped itself around the mortal's waist. Shaking his head, he wrapped his hand tightly around the vine, narrowing his eyes, "Stop. I do not need this."'I do not need him.'He felt something sting in his chest. Confused, he blinked and looked down. Surprise flashed in his face once he noticed that his chest stung because the mortal was currently slapping him on the chest. The mortal's face was a deep shade of red, and Kavan tilted his head at that. He h
Fyn. Fyn pinched his arm to make sure that he wasn't seeing things.Standing just a few feet away from him are turnips. Normally, turnips wouldn't make him so dumbfounded. Occasionally, he would plant some turnips at the back of his hut and harvest them during early spring. That's why he was obviously aware of what turnips should look like, smell like, and taste like. He knew for sure that turnips weren't supposed to walk.Turnips most especially shouldn't have faces.And most of all, turnips don't talk.The turnip just a few feet away from him had not only eyes, but a mouth, and four limbs. It was standing on two legs and standing two feet tall. Fyn pinched himself again, blinking as much as he could. He gaped his mouth wide open, staring unbelievingly at the thing right in front of him. Sure, he could accept a telepathic snake, a demon with wings, antlers, and a tail, and a forest that moves all
Fyn. Fyn stood by the cave entrance, Havu around his waist again.It was close to night time and Kavan had disappeared to who knows where once more. Sighing, Fyn crossed his arms as he leaned against the cave, the cool rock seeping through his blouse. The sky had turned dark, and cool air kissed Fyn's cheek. Back when he had been outside the forest by his hut, he would have been getting ready for bed. This time, he just didn't feel comfortable sleeping on his own. For some reason, he couldn't quite explain."I apologize for the master's actions," Havu mentally told Fyn, tightening around his waist. Fyn had gone accustomed to the serpent. If he had known a few days ago that he would find himself with a snake around his waist, tightening on him, without him fearing it all, he would have not believed it. "He is not usually like this. I'm afraid he just isn't hospitable."Fyn shook his head, brushing his hands against Havu's c