Looking at Heacrim, Miede felt nothing but fear. It was not the fear one feels when faced with sudden danger, no, it was the fear of inevitability. It was the same feeling one had when they saw a rope begin to fray and struggle at its limit. Inevitable, that was the descriptor of the fear she felt.

As her eyes met his, she remembered his face from long, long ago.

Miede was the princess of a kingdom, long before she ran to the Bewitching woods. The kingdom was one predisposed to the magical arts, one that thrived on the exploration of the unknown and the imitation of the divine.

Her upbringing was filled with expectation. She learned much, in all ways. She was forced to speak with all the people of the kingdom she’d rule, she made her way from the north to the south, from the west to the east, there was not a spot of land in her kingdom that she was to be ignorant of.

This made her tempered, her heart had been struck by horrors, but also by emphatic joy. She bore witness to it all, the love she received and the disgust others had for her, the envy, the pity. She was well accustomed to the truth of the expansiveness, and sometimes unclear nature of the world within the borders of the kingdom.

Along her journey, she amassed a following. A concession of bats would follow her wherever she went, and under the moon she could speak with them in a simple way, a communication through emotion. This peculiar ability of hers was a gift not of heritage, but one of providence, a blessing from the very earth itself. The bats became her unchanging companions in her long journey.

She met many on her long journey, but the one she remembered most of all was a man she had met in a decrepit village. The population of the village had grown old, truthfully it was a place that had been marked to be wiped out by the simple march of time. Places like this were meant to teach her of her own place in the world, her own insignificance. It was inevitable that she too would accept the decay of all things.

Alone, a man worked the field. He cared for the sick, he helped with the animals. Anywhere in the village that needed help, he would be there. He had dark skin, and golden eyes. His name was Alucire. He was only a year younger than Miede.

It was certain that the only place he’d ever been was the village, but his knowledge seemed so intricate despite that. He seemed to have admiration for the untold, and he spoke of places she’d been but he hadn’t with awe. She felt her own admiration for her journey, and she wished she could share the entirety of her journey with him.

They spoke at length, for what seemed like forever. Far longer than she had meant to stay in one place. Eventually a decision was to be made, whether he would travel with her or stay in the village. She could not exert her royal influence to alleviate the burden of the village , the burden was the villages alone.

Alucire chose to stay. He could not turn his back on the village that raised him. It tore at him greatly, for he had grown infatuated by her and the stories she had to tell. She had spoken so pridefully of her experiences, not of only herself but the people who lived in the kingdom. She spoke of how resilient they were, how they were strong not only in the body but also the heart. It was clear she loved each and every person she was to rule over. Alucire wished to see her bloom, but he owed too much to the village for raising him. He could not allow the aging population to be without care.

Miede had no choice but to leave, and she continued on her journey throughout the kingdom as it was her royal rite. Although her journey was long and grand, from the point she left the small village she no longer had her heart with her.

Time passed in that kingdom of abundance, she grew nearer and nearer to her coronation. It was meant to be a joyous time, but something wicked had caught the air. Something sinister had appeared in their land.

Simple beasts had become rabid, former springs of water now bubbled with blood. Deep beneath the water’s surface battles reigned between previously docile underwater creatures who were now frenzied.

Even the breeze would cut at the skin, it was as if the land itself was rejecting something. Only through magic arts of untold complexity did the kingdom maintain its shape, as the earth began to revolt. Shifting mountains, earthquakes, storms of unparalleled intensity all arrived. A mass migration had begun, relocating all those outside the capital into its protective barrier.

Seer’s, diviners, spiritualists, even those with just plain intuition were called to the palace. They were asked about the source of the blight and no expense was spared. No conclusion had been reached, despite their best efforts. There were those who claimed that the very earth was tainted, and that the kingdom would simply have to die and begin a great diaspora.

A doctor came with the solution. His name was Heacrim, and he had an affinity for the spiritual arts. Although he was no great mage, his ability to detect the arcane was unparalleled. He was a man of renown because of his skills as a doctor, and stories of his good nature had been quite popular in the kingdom.

He was easily believed when he spoke of a great taint in the mountains, and the urgency in his presentation aroused the hope in the king and queen's heart.

He was given the support of the kingdom. An assortment of knights went with him, lead by Miede who was now a mage of high regard. She was cold and distant, but she wished dearly for her kingdom to be saved. She had high hopes for Heacrim, who seemed to radiate warmth and joy wherever he went. His was a refined disposition, and he came off well to all he met.

Their expedition had meant to be simple, and to an extent, it was. They had approached the mountains quickly, but the emanating energy from the mountains sapped the energy from the air. It was no wonder it was hard to find the place, almost everyone who had gotten close had been sapped of their ability to go forward or back. They were stuck in a vortex of death.

The accompanying knights had tried to make their way in, to no avail. Their bodies had sapped of strength, and the closer they got the worse the influence. Only two of the group were able to head deeper in.

The knights had been told to head back by Miede, and they accepted at great protest. Miede herself was resistant to whatever seemed to eat at the area, and Heacrim as well found himself capable of moving on. He claimed it was because of the care he took for his own health, and his own accumulated resistance to disease he had gotten from his long tenure. Miede felt such a thing was odd, but the danger of the blight was too significant to ignore.

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The two went deep into the mountain, until they came to a basin. Streams of water shot out from the walls, and in front of them was a pool. In that pool the object of death sat in front of them.

A fragment was all it could be called. A piece of silvery flesh, beating as if it was alive. Black energy stemmed from it, shot out from it without care. Never in Miede’s life had she ever seen something so vile. While it was simply flesh it came across as much more sinister, it did not writhe out of a want of survival, but a need for torment. It attacked the air, it attacked the water it listed in, it existed out of objection.

Heacrim had no solutions, he simply stared at the thing with utmost curiosity. Miede was revolted, with each undulation, each movement the thing seemed to eat away at the world. Truthfully, such a phenomenon summoned upon her a great inspiration for the furtherment of her magic arts, even through her intense disgust.

She came to the solution that it had to be sealed. Were it to continue to exist without check, there was no telling the damage it could do. It was malicious, antagonistic to the very world.

Miede had intended to set up a barrier of symbols around the thing, and to construct a shrine after the things' outward projection had been contained. Containing it was not impossible now that they knew that the piece of flesh was the source of the errant changes in nature.

Heacrim, the kind doctor who valued his health, had reached out and grabbed the flesh with his bare hand. The energy wrapped itself around him, its hunger redirected now towards its immediate proximity.

Before Miede could stop him, the entire area seemed to have its light devoured. Miede felt the source of the energy through a primal connection, one more of emotion than logic. The anger that the flesh exhibited was hunger, unparalleled hunger. It cursed that it needed to eat, it cursed that it was unable to stop. It cursed the world for not satisfying its needs. It cursed, it cursed, it cursed. She saw it taking for itself, she saw even the depths of logic and understanding being taken away from the world. It had no discrimination towards where its anger fueled by its hunger took it, it ate at the very rules that made up their world.

The last Miede saw of Heacrim was him seemingly being devoured by the energy, lit by the pulsing silvery flesh. His face was open with wide eyes , his expression one of pure ecstasy. The black energy clung to him and was burrowing its way into him.

From that point, she remembered nothing until morning. She woke groggy, laying on the ground of the basin. The flesh was gone, as was Heacrim. Not a trace of either of them remained. She searched restlessly, and she realized that there was nothing to be found in regards to either the kind doctor or the flesh.

She came down the mountains, reuniting with her knights. Her mind was racing. She was unsure of what to call the situation, or how the people would respond to it. Her mind too was preoccupied by the profundities and mysteries the piece of flesh offered, and new manners of spellcraft and sorcery made themself known to her. She had decided then and there to study extensively on the matter, in an attempt to prevent any such occurrence as happening again. Although she did not understand the true nature of the thing, she knew it was something that would destroy the unprepared.

The official report of the investigation was that the object Heacrim had spoken of was gone, destroyed by Heacrim at the cost of his own life.

Miede had wanted him to be looked into, but the kingdom was preoccupied, and although she was now well known and renowned, she still had no control over the kingdom. The King and Queen held onto the reins of power greatly, and she had no ability to mobilize its resources. She sealed herself away in study, the thought of Heacrim gnawing at all times. She suppressed the thoughts as she delved into the knowledge she had gained from observing the flesh. Even as short as it was that her eyes were on it, it was enough to unlock a branch of magic yet untapped. She sealed herself away, the outside world becoming a concept more so than a reality to her.

Even with the removal of the flesh, the terrors of the land continued. Livestock were becoming frightened and skittish, they had begun to cease giving birth. The ground was now even more unstable, even in the great city. The weather was erratic, rain one day, snow the next, droughts and floods of all kinds with great storms of wind too making their appearance. The people of the kingdom had grown fearful.

All the while it got worse, their promising princess had secluded herself away in the castle to commit herself to research. The king and queen had become overwhelmed by problems and internal affairs, they had become a symbol of outrage and blame. The people began to doubt the story of the disappearance of Heacrim, and the evil object he gave his life to destroy. They began to believe the monarchy was an evil thing, perhaps even the cause of the dying land.

On some days people had begun to see the princess chanting in a way they could not understand, and she had been seen practicing spells which seemed foreign. Even some astute sages did not recognize the glimpses of the sacraments she would perform. One day, a maid of the castle came down to the people of the capital, speaking of rumor.

“All that she practices, it’s the same as the story on the mountain they gave” She said. “She exerts control over beasts and stops their movement, and she gathers life for herself. I’ve seen it myself, as she practices in the courtyard. The grass goes gray as she chants those Shamanisms!” Her words did not go unheard.

Miede was practicing the dark art she gleaned from the flesh, but not in the way her maid had known. She had wanted to learn to counter, and reverse the effects of it. She had committed to memorizing and understanding the spell in all ways, so as best to increase her chances.

If she were able to reverse the application of the techniques ability to steal life from the area around her, she believed wholeheartedly that she’d be able to give the land back its life. She had become a fanatic in the way she would disregard anything, even sleep and meals, to prod the depths of the complexities. The absolute foreign nature of it gave her no foundation, thus the process was slow and tedious.

No matter, for her side of the story never reached the ears of the people. They had bought onto the rumor like fish on bait, they had eyed it greedily and given free to their primal desires. They were outraged by the state of the kingdom, angered by their own poverty, and certain that the death of the princess would bring life back. They were delirious, in search of any hope.

Of course Miede had no idea, for she was too engrossed in the depths of the art she had gleaned from the thing. It went deep, beyond any form of magecraft she knew. It seemed to be based on sensibilities that had no place in her own understanding of the natural world.

The king and queen were too encumbered by the various unrests of the people to stop the mob from forming outside their walls. It started slow, but it gradually grew into a single minded mass, one that would not stop until the gates of the castle were down and the wants of the people were satisfied. They slammed on the gates with their own bodies and weapons they had. They seemed frenzied, obsessed with their own rage.

By the time Miede had learned of the mob and their purpose it had been too late. They were on the verge of breaking through the gates and slaughtering their way in, and even interior dissidents in the castle had taken the King and Queen hostage. She feared for her life, but she resigned herself to her death. She refused to use the terrible art on the people she was meant to rule over, no matter the cost to herself. She had decided to wait in her room for her assailants.

When the door opened, her eyes were wide open in shock. Alucire was standing there, his eyes open widely. A small gray thing was on his shoulders, a bat.

Before she could fear that his expression was fueled by anger, he placed his arms around her back in a great hug. He whispered to her, and told her they must go. He said they must leave as quickly as possible, and that they still had time to slip out unnoticed.

She agreed, pained by the idea of running away from her responsibilities and family but touched by the care Alucire had for her. She had decided to live, and she followed him out. They made their way through the city, traveling through side streets and hidden routes; the mob had overtaken the entirety of the capital surrounding the castle.

Alucire was smart, and Miede understood the skill of discretion. They evaded detection and quickly made their way to the exit of the city. Near that exit, Miede’s eyes glanced over to a group of people. Angered like all the others they had met, they had hideous and aggressive emotions plastered across their face. All but one, who had a wide smile and easy going eyes.

Miede would always remember the picture of the man, for it matched exactly Heacrim’s who had gone missing. She thought but never knew if he had noticed her, for his gold eyes did move quickly across her for but a moment all that time ago.

Alucire and Miede had made their way out of the city, and went off on their own journey. They traveled far and wide together, and became people of great renown for their time, until they took up their castle at the Bewitiching woods.

Miede had never forgotten Heacrim, or the ails of her people. She had moved on, but not once did she forget about the mysterious flesh that she believed had driven her kingdom to ruin, nor the golden eyes of Heacrim and the anxiety they brought her.

Now she saw those golden eyes again across from her, not having aged in over five hundred years. With no doubt in her mind, the man standing in the hall of the castle was the very same Heacrim that had disappeared.