“Come back, come back to me! I can do whatever you want, please, just come back!” Cried the voice from the dark as Titus ran away. He understood now, the words translating inside his head somehow.
“Don’t…leave me here!” Sobbed the voice’s owner, the doors slamming shut after Titus had left.
~
“Run, Titus!” Yelled his parents. Nightmares of flesh and steel bit into the villagers around them. Titus saw violence and death for the first time as men and women screamed, limbs torn asunder and long ropy entrails got scattered into the treetops. The sheer brutality in the monsters’ assault was stunning.
Titus stood frozen, mouth agape as his young mind struggle to process what was in front of him.
“Run!” His parents called again, their own legs frozen in abject terror as one of the shadow beasts took note of them, and slowly, casually, painfully turned towards them. Titus couldn’t turn away even during the very last moment, when the creature reached them, and lovingly lowered its shadow-bound head.
The top half of his mother vanished, her legs standing upright for an impossibly long moment of time before they crumpled, a dark wetness sliding down the skirt she had been wearing. A soundless scream tore out from Titus’s throat, unheard over the ringing in his ears. His father crumpled to his knees, and pawed his way towards his mother’s legs. He grabbed at them, shaking the limbs as if she were only sleeping. Hysteria made the sight almost funny. Then one of his father's arms was torn off, the skin and muscles tearing apart, leaving him screaming in agony.
For a brief moment, Titus caught his father’s eyes. What he saw reflected in those eyes convinced him to finally move his legs, to run away from that nightmare.
~
“I can give you power! Please, just come back!” Yelled the voice, not knowing that Titus could not understand, no matter what. “Please….” She called, voice cracking in the deep darkness past those doors.
~
"....please........."
~
----------------------------------------
Titus bolted upright in his bed, sweat pouring from his brow, and with the sheets tangled all around him.
It was a near repeat of how he had woken up the day before, with the exception that he was in bed this time instead of on the floor. He didn’t feel rested in the slightest—If anything, he felt more tired after having woken up than he had before going to sleep.
“Damn bad dreams.” Mumbled Titus, keenly recalling the contents of his nightmares. They were nearly always the same, showing him the events of that night over and over and over again, like some kind of demented cycle. Some nights it was better, the events somewhat blurred. Not this time, unfortunately. Titus experienced the memories in their full glory, from the death of his parents, to his run down the cave, and the unintelligible voice in the dark.
Wait, that wasn’t quite right. Titus grew confused thinking about it.
That voice…it never said anything he could make out. Never once, in any of the dreams, nor in real life. It had spouted what sounded like random gibberish.
But…Titus could understand it in that dream just now. He clearly remembered the voice’s pleading words, and what she said.
‘How unusual. That’s never happened before.’ He thought. There truly was no precedent.
However, the whole matter got pushed away very quickly. Titus truly did not want to remember anything about that night, and tried his best to not think about it. No matter how curious he might be, thinking about those words wasn’t worth dredging up the rest of his memories.
Sighing, Titus untangled the sheets from around him, and made his way outside. His house was situated right next to a small stream—one of many that cut through the village and town, all of them connected to a large pond right at the center of their community. Titus enjoyed using the streams to bathe in the mornings, especially after waking up from a nightmare. It cleaned off the lingering bad memories, and left him feeling much better. It was just unfortunate that the streams froze over during the winter, and they got too cold to use. This particular morning was a bit nippy anyway, so a quick dunk in the somewhat cold water served the dual purpose of finally pushing Titus’s nightmares further away, and waking him up completely.
He walked out of the stream, and grabbed the clothes he left off to the side, not bothering to dry off before putting them on. Titus figured that there was no need, since the day’s work would leave him hot and sweaty anyway, and a bit of water on the skin to cool him off might be nice.
Yesterday, Titus had fully repaired the roof, and pulled out all the ruined furniture in the main room. Today, he figured that simply going through the other rooms and doing spot repairs would be enough.
The storage room would also need to be sorted out. A lot of stuff was kept in there, most of which would be useless to Titus. Things like family trinkets or heirlooms either held no value to Titus, or were painful to hold on to. He would rather be rid of these things than hold onto them for an unknown period of time.
And instead of holding off on sorting this stuff out till later, he decided to strike while the iron was hot, and get it done immediately. Titus set to the storage room with passion, gradually separating out what was useful to him or might be in the future, and what would not be useful. He tried to put all thought towards simply deciding on an object’s usefulness, instead of lingering on sharp sentimental value.
He was so intent on not thinking about things that the knocking at his door went unnoticed at first.
“Titus?! Are you in there?!” Called a familiar voice from outside, finally breaking Titus from his sorting reverie. He got up slowly, leaving everything in three disorganized piles on the floor.
“Hold on just a second, I’ll be right with you!” Yelled Titus while looking down at his clothes. A quick brush-down had dust flying in the air, and set him to a coughing fit. He would need to sweep the floors to get rid of all that dirt and dust lying around, Titus resolved before crossing over to the door and gracefully pulling it open.
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Outside, the healer and Maria waited.
“What can I help you fine ladies with on this fine morning?” He asked politely.
The old healer peeked around Titus’s shoulder, into the house itself.
“I thought so—you’ve started on your parent’s things, haven’t you?”
Titus nodded.
“Good thing we decided to drop on by, then. Would it be permissible to have Maria here take a look at the stuff you’re getting rid of, and take her pick of anything she might fancy?”
“I don’t mind.” Shrugged Titus, standing aside and letting the two women in.
Maria held her nose up in the air disdainfully at the barren state of the house’s main room, and the general air of disrepair that pervaded the entire building. There wasn’t anything Titus could do about it, besides slowly work to making the house more livable and comfortable. Maria was simply used to a higher standard of living, being a scion of a leading family, and thus saw Titus’s house as something akin to a wooden hut.
“Right, this pile is all stuff I’m getting rid of. Take your pick from anything in there.” Said Titus, motioning at one of the three piles of stuff. He sincerely doubted that there would be anything in there to suit Maria’s tastes. Most the items were little wooden baubles or old toys of his. There were scant few pieces of jewelry left, and those that he had were simply constructed and made of copper or bronze metals. She still sifted through the trinkets anyway.
“Hmm, have you been having bad dreams, little brat?” Asked the healer, an odd interest in her eyes.
“Only a few.” Admitted Titus. “How could you tell?”
“You don’t look very well rested. Are the nightmares about that night back again?”
“Yeah. It’s the memories this place brings back. They wear at me, and bring the nightmares up to surface. Hopefully, things will go back to normal after all this junk is cleared out, and the house truly becomes mine.” Said Titus, wearily.
“There is an easier way to get rid of them, you know.” Stated the healer. Titus looked at her curiously, obviously interested in her opinion.
“Theory is that there are three primary causes for lingering trauma. First is that the trauma might not be fully healed. Well, trauma is never healed fully, but we consider it to be healed enough once it ceases to be a daily occurrence for the victim, when the specters of the past start leaving them alone somewhat. This is likely not the case for you, whose trauma has scabbed over. Your life moves on easily enough. Second, would be that a physical reminder of the trauma remains. This can be a missing limb or a particular scar, or an object serving as a reminder of great trauma. Now, I though that this might be the case here, but I have a feeling the circumstances call for the third cause.”
“What is it?”
“You never resolved the issue causing the trauma. It’s still out there, calling to your wounded self, attempting to tear off the scar tissue and expose the vulnerable soul underneath. The best way to fix this is to simply talk about it.” The healer paused for a moment, letting them both compose themselves.
“Titus, what happened that night? If you can tell me about it, the nightmares might start leaving you alone again. Your issues might not ever bother you again.”
He sighed.
“You know I won’t talk about the Exodus. There are some things better left forgotten in that forest, and in the ground.” Said Titus painfully. He didn’t understand why the old woman he viewed as family would try and bring this up. She was well aware of how painful the whole thing was to him.
“In the ground? So you went into the caves?”
“Please, drop the subject. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And you remember what happened, then?”
“Please.” Said Titus forcefully. He was struck with the memory of a voice in a cave, pleading with him while using that same word.
“So, you know the way through those caves, yes?” Continued the healer. Titus didn’t like the look in her eyes, that unfamiliar gleam of joy and something darker. “You can take someone to what lies at their end, can’t you?”
Titus said nothing more, only watching as the healer he had known for years and years started becoming someone deeply unsettling and unfamiliar. A blind avarice dancing in her eyes as she looked towards Titus, her mouth curling into a crescent grin.
“Why, you must bring me down there as soon as possible. I have waited far too long, and now that I know you know the way, there’s no sense in delaying any longer.”
“Mags, you’re not acting right…” Whispered Titus, using the healer’s name for once. He had only just remembered it, dredged from some deep, dark, primal part of his mind. The healer whipped her head around at the name, and the grin widened.
“Oh~? Well, this is even better! All you rabble should have forgotten my name—after all, names have power, and mine is too lofty to be dirtied on backwater tongues.”
At this moment, Titus had a realisation. A horrifying, world churning thought that flipped his life on its head. Or maybe the thought turned everything around again, so that he was finally standing on his own two feet, the land around him only now making sense when viewed right-side up.
He voiced this thought out loud, much to the healer’s amusement.
“Y-you aren’t the healer, are you?”
“No boy, I am not.” Spoke Mags, her grin not fading in the slightest. “That village healer whose place I so graciously took died during your so-called ‘exodus’. She was right next to me, and her body made such a lovely crunching sound when my Skinwalkers ate her.”
Titus’s knees buckled, and he tried to scramble away from the woman who he had thought a friend. She only watched this action in amusement.
“Oh please, I won’t hurt you, dear boy. I just need you to show me the way through those blasted caves.”
“Y-you killed my parents…” Whispered Titus.
The grin fell away from the healer’s face, and a serious face that was twenty times more frightening replaced it.
“No, my dear. They killed themselves. Everyone there that night killed themselves. They were told so often that the forest was deadly, that nobody makes it through alive. And yet they still entered just because of a few deaths in the village. Do you fault the blade for a man’s death, or the man holding it? Similarly, I was not responsible. —No, that was all on his shoulders. If you must blame a person for your parent’s deaths, blame Sahash, that uptight bastard.”
“What….are you?” Asked Titus, afraid of the answer.
The healer’s head tilted in an odd manner, like an owl or some other bird of prey.
“Does it matter? All you should know right now, is that I will kill young Maria over there if you do not show me the way through those caves.”
She didn’t seem to show any sort of bloodlust towards Maria while saying this—and the mention of the girl had Titus realizing that she had seemingly frozen in place, unaffected by the conversation happening right next to her. She was at the mercy of whatever monster the healer truly was.
Titus sat in silence for a moment, and Mags let him. She didn’t seem particularly inclined towards rushing him. In fact, she almost didn’t seem to be forcing him at all.
He took a last look at Maria, then turned towards the healer and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll show you what lies at the end of those caves.”
“Grand!” Said the healer, clapping her hands together in joy.
“However, I have a condition.” Continued Titus.
“Oh-hoh, that is quite bold of you. Tell me, what is this condition?” Asked Mags, mirth dripping from her voice. She knew she didn’t have to ever consider this condition since Titus wouldn’t go against her with Maria’s life in the mix. However, curiosity killed the cat, as it were.
“I want to know more about this Sahash guy you say caused my parent’s deaths.” Said Titus with iron conviction in his voice. He pushed Mags’ direct involvement in their deaths to the wayside in his mind. For one, he knew there was nothing he could do to her currently. Secondly, if there truly someone above who caused the whole thing, then that was the head he’s rather take. And finally, Titus was of the opinion that goals were necessary in life—even if he might die to the kindly old healer before the day was over.
“Sure, no problem.” Answered Mags easily enough. “You’ll either be dead soon from something or another, or free to do whatever you want. I see no issue with this. Now, let’s get going. I want to see the reason why I lived in this miserable dump for seven years, and I’m sure you want this over with as well. Everything will be back to normal after it's done.”
Titus tried not to think too hard as he opened the door for Mags. He tried not to think about that night, with creatures slaughtering family and friends in the forest, nor of the healer’s apparent involvement in it. He tried not to think about the fact that Maria was walking with them, that dead look in her eyes suggesting that the lights were on, but nobody would come to the door to answer. Certainly, he tried to not think about the fact that the healer could apparently control another person like a puppet, and he tried not to compare himself to Maria, both puppets dancing to the healer’s tune.
Most of all, Titus tried to ignore the vast, burning plains of hatred which had ignited in his deepest being. He tried to ignore the acrid taste of betrayal in his mouth, and the grim coldness in his head from vengeance.
He tried.
He failed.