[T: 8 Days 22 Hours]

It has been past a week since Halliday and his men of around two dozen and around fifty civilians have taken residence in the caves, atop the plateau, bordering at the edge of the mountains. The plateau overlooking the forest below gave them a vantage point far superior to anything they could find within the whole area. There were only two paths going up into the plateau. One path leading north, from where they had fled, where Point Zero, the Beam of Light is located, and another path to the west leading to another forest.

Halliday stares into the fire, the crackling interrupting the silence every few seconds. Just minutes ago his 2nd Lieutenant had approached him wanting clarification on what their objective was. With no clear sign of what they were supposed to be doing, the platoon had been talking amongst themselves, speculating. Within a week the platoon's confidence in their leadership was waning. Halliday had had the men surveying the perimeter for more information on their whereabouts, and “teaching” and “informing” the civilians as best they could for the outdoors, in order to keep them occupied. However, the unprecedented scenario they were in had raised alarms to the entire platoon and not seeing any decisive actions from leadership as well as not taking any decisive actions, left, in the back of their minds, an underlying problem, and that left the men in unease. The failure to address this issue was becoming more and more apparent.

Halliday once more asked himself questions.

Could we possibly retake Point Zero?

No, too little resources, too little men. Not enough training.

Should we wait for help?

How? Why? We have had no contact from our superiors. We don’t know where we are and we cannot expect Command to know where we are either. With all the absurdities happening around us we shouldn’t even expect to be on Planet Earth.

Then what do we do?

Yes. What do we do?

Do we stay here?

So that we can perpetually spin in circles? Moving yet remaining in the same place? While the problem continues to grow?

We would be alive.

Until we die. The numbers of the creatures are growing daily. They are evolving. Becoming faster, stronger, smarter. And they are on our doorstep. Today we will be alive. Tomorrow we will be overrun.

Yet I can not abandon such a safe haven, nor can I order offensive actions.

You are a leader, yet you are failing to lead. Your people need you to take them to safety. Either find one or make one.

Do I have a solution?

Can you give the order to strike?

No.

Can you continue to remain here?

No.

Then what can you do?

Halliday has no answer.

Not even the Gods fight Necessity.

Halliday has no choice but to acknowledge the only course of action left for them.

What can you do Halliday?

Leave.

[T: Unknown. Location: Unknown]

The woodcutter runs through the maze of corridors, frantically trying to find a way out. He holds the Rose, tightly in his hand. Behind him, further away, a roar echoes. The woodcutter turns back towards the roar; sweating, panting, eyes wide open. He turns back and continues to run, his breathing betraying fear with every gasp.

Make Him Pay.

The woodcutter continues to run. Runs into a dead end. Turns back and runs down another way. The roar sounds again. This time closer. The woodcutter continues to run into multiple dead ends, each time allowing his pursuer to get closer and closer, as evidenced by how louder and louder the roars each time become.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He Will Pay.

The woodcutter turns around once more, having met another dead end. As he reaches the corner a dark shape arrives, looming over him. The darkness hides the identity of the entity, yet the woodcutter knows that the servant of the castle’s master, or even the master themselves have arrived. He clutches the rose tightly and cries out, “Mercy!”

Pay.

“Please. I’ll do anything! Please!”, the woodcutter plead. The shape towering over him growled like a beast.

“Can you give life to that which you have plucked?”, demanded the Beast. The woodcutter could not answer. “Can you repay the hospitality that I gave to you, which you spat on the moment you decided to steal from me?” Again the woodcutter could not answer. “Can you right the wrong you have committed by betraying me?”, the beast lowered his body even further, revealing fur hanging from its neck. “Why did you do it?”

The woodcutter looks, eyes wide, sweat trickling down his face, the sweat making trails as it cleans dirt and dust in its path, leaving the rest of the face looking even dirtier. The gaze of the woodcutter unfocuses from his captor, looking at something distant. “I don’t know”, the woodcutter whispers, his tone is high yet calm, as if he had come to an epiphany yet can not believe nor understand it. “I don’t know why I did it”, the woodcutter repeats, “It was like a voice in my head. It’s me. But it’s not me. And I just did it.” The woodcutter refocuses his gaze. “Please. I have a daughter. If you would grant me this one mercy, I swear, I will pay you back. I swear it.” The woodcutter has a look of genuine sincerity, believing in his own words because of how confident he is in his promise.

The Beast answers, “No. There is nothing you can do to repay me. You do not have the wealth, do not have the station, the class, the influence, the ability.” The Beast carefully peels the Rose away from the woodcutter and gently holds it, protecting it with his arms. “And therefore I demand this from you. The same way you plucked life from my garden, I pluck life from you. Give me your daughter, woodcutter. I will pluck from your garden, your Rose. She will repay the debt you have incurred. For life. A life for a life, woodcutter.”

“Please. My daughter has a long life ahead of her.”

“So did this Rose. But it was plucked, cruelly by your own fingers, and it is dying. Whether I devour her, like you tried to harvest my prized possession is my decision. You will send her here, that is final. Now… LEAVE”. The Beast turns and strides away, vanishing.

With this the woodcutter finishes the story, his daughter listening, her face expressionless. The woodcutter looks into his daughters eyes and finds them deep in thought, her face slowly frowning as she concentrates. Finally the daughter rises up, out of her chair.

“Father”, she says, “where is this castle?”

The woodcutter grasps her hands quickly, “Oh no, you don’t have to go”, he pleads. “Everything will be alright”, “I will do something about this”.

His daughter looks at him calmly, “Father we both know that the only way to make things right is for me to go”. She smiles gently. “It will be alright. I will pay back the debt as a servant”. She pulls one of her hands out from his grasp and strokes his hands with it. “Please let me do this Father. It is for the best”.

The woodcutter's heart is broken and he whispers, “But you may suffer”.

“Life is full of suffering, Father. We should be grateful for all that we’ve lived through. And just because I go does not mean that I will suffer. You told me yourself, the Beast will decide whether he devours me or if he employs me. If what you have told me is true, I believe the Master of the Castle would be honorable and merciful. And I will answer his mercy and honor with loyalty and dedication.” The daughter goes around the table and hugs the woodcutter. “And if the Master would have me killed then he will simply be without my servitude. It will be his loss”.

The woodcutter embraces his daughter tightly, almost as if he would never let her go. “It will be my loss. He will have lost a potential servant. I will have lost a daughter.” They continue the embrace for a little while and the daughter escapes from her father, peeling herself off of him.

“Well there is little to pack and so let us be off. Please, Father. Guide me”. At her fathers protest that she should stay for a day or two she insisted, “Father it isn’t like I’m going far away. The castle is right in the forest. You can visit any time. There is no reason to delay, when arriving promptly for service and employment can convey a willingness to serve and repay the debt. This could be what decides whether I am looked favorably or not.

“But there is no guarantee that your dedication would be answered or repaid”, the woodcutter pleaded.

“Father”, the young woman’s voice is firm, “please”.

The woodcutter's pained look gazes upon his daughter’s firm resolution, and he finally observes her. She looks calm. Serene. Accepting. And she seems alright with it. A bit determined in fact. She does not look bothered by what she is about to do. And it looks like she has a purpose to her. Purposeful. She feels more adult. Like she has a place to go and things to do.

“When did she grow up”, the woodcutter thinks, “She’s so grown up”. He remembers when she was still playing in the fields, running, dancing, so free with no need to worry about going anywhere, doing anything. And now? She is going somewhere, to do something. To be something. And it strikes him, painfully. It provides him with guilt that somehow she was forced to become this way. That he was inadequate and so she had to grow up. “If only I was something more, if only I had not made that mistake. Oh why did I pluck that Rose”, the woodcutter thought miserably.

The daughter waits, patiently, waiting for her father to acknowledge her, her decision, her life choice. And her father in return observes with a frightened heart, wondering whether this, no matter how determined she is, whether this is a path that will lead to a future of suffering. And if it is a path of suffering, whether he should prevent her from making this mistake, or if he should let her be her own person and make her own future, whether that future was a mistake or not.

But with his heart weak and hers strong, her determination slowly pushed him. First out the door, then into the forest, all the way to the opening to the cave. And as they entered, the woodcutter still continued to fearfully wrestle with himself. “Is this okay?”