The first thing I noticed was a nostalgic smell; the sweet smell of freshly simmered carrot soup. It filled me with a warmth I forgot I ever felt. Then I opened my eyes, and in front of me was a table with the soup in a bowl carved from rare stone and treated with a waxy finish

The bowl, table and I were sitting in a familiar room; a simple squarish room in a simple, stone cottage. I could barely believe my eyes. Pelts were thrown against the walls, and little wooden window frames supported potted plants their owner lovingly cared for.

My chest tightened and tears began to well in my eyes. I became aware of my body; the body of a child. I was young again.

“Hey, hurry up and drink your soup, Ange is going to be here soon!”

The voice I hadn’t heard in so long was the one that broke the well; the tears poured out uncontrollably.

“Mom!” I called.

“What’s the matter?” she replied, poking her head in from the other room, the kitchen. She confusedly looked at me like I was sick. It was my mother, my dead mother.

She looked just like I remembered her- no she looked even more pristine than my fading memories. She walked out of the kitchen and came closer to me. She was wearing the apron she would always wear over her old cotton shirt. Her skin had a greenish hue to it that went well with her greyish-blue hair, as messy as it was, reaching to her lower back. She had the features you would expect of an ogre woman, the two fangs on her bottom jaw that poked out of her mouth, the strong, straight nose and the well built, big-boned body; her forearms were as wide as my head even.

She was a strong woman, so strong I wanted to be like her someday.

“What’s wrong runt? Got a fever?” she asked as she brought her forehead to mine, clearing her bangs before our skin made contact. My heart skipped a beat. Never in my life did I think I could ever have this moment again.

I stared into her amber eyes, my words caught in my throat unable to come out.

“Little runt? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” She was concerned she kept looking at me after having parted from my forehead. I was barely stammering, but my thoughts were racing trying to make sense of what I was seeing..

She would always call me a runt…

Though we were ogres, all my ogre-ish features were locked away behind my Incarnate form. It was the source of endless worries for my mother who was an ogre through and through; she would always worry about whether or not I was growing right, at least until we found out about my Incarnate form. But even after finding out about the form, she never stopped, the affectionate nickname stuck… It didn’t help that I was also a sickly child that couldn’t properly control his Incarnate form. But still, that nickname was full of my mother’s affection and worry. Hearing it now after so long warmed my heart in a way I thought impossible.

“I’m fine, mom!” I yelled, finally finding the words.

I immediately flung myself at her, latching around her neck, “I love you, mom! I love you!” I cried.

“Whoa there, I love you too, little runt.” She replied with a warm, toothy grin, and hoisted me into the air by my armpits.

She would always do this and spin me around when she was happy. It was like it was a small dance. In this home where just the two of us lived, moments like these were ones I took for granted.

Am I… Have I gone back in time? Am I really going to get to relive my childhood?

While I was spun around in the air by my strong mother, I let myself be taken away by a flight of fancy.

She brought me closer to her face, the jovial dance concluded and asked, “Are you nervous for today? Ms Deleim is going to be teaching you all about your Incarnate form!”

“What.” My heart sank, dread overwhelmed me, my skin went cold and my eyes widened. “What?” It was impossible, of all the days to land in, why was it that day.

My mother put me down but I didn’t let go of her arm.

“Hmm? What’s the matter?” my mother asked gently.

“Mother!” I yelled, “We have to leave! Please! We have to leave right now!”

“Huh? What’s the matter? Where to?”

“Far from here!” I screamed, frantically trying to tug her towards the door, “We have to go! Anywhere will do!”

My mother, always so kind, walked along with me, but not without question, “What’s wrong, are you scared of Ms Deleim’s lesson?”

“No! I’m not! We just need to leave now!” I wasn’t even looking back at her anymore, all in my sights was the door.

“Okay, little runt, let me go get food and your medicine for our picnic.” My mother was strong, stronger than some young man in a child’s body. She turned course as easily as she breathed. But she didn’t understand my tenacity.

I ran to the other side of my mother’s legs and pushed her towards the door. “No,” I screamed, “Now please! Mom! Please, please, let’s just go!” I cried and cried and pushed.

“Okay,” she said, she sounded concerned, “Only for an hour okay, but after this, I’m not spoiling you anymore.” It sounded like she was wagging her finger at me.

I didn’t care how much she looked down on me; now was the time to get out of here. Getting my mother out was all I could think of.

My mother finally opened the door and we stepped out together and the moment I crossed the boundary, everything changed.

It was the smell that came to me first. I poked my head out from behind my mother.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Wha-What? This isn’t right.”

The smell of smoke and iron reached my nose immediately; a smell I wish I could forget. It prompted confused thoughts that quickly gave way to panic. I poked my head out and saw a scene of carnage. Other cottages were on fire, the verdant grass of our village was dyed red, and in the far off distance, behind the overwhelming glow of flames was a bone chilling shadow.

“Mom!” I cried, “We have to go back inside and hide!” I wasn’t thinking straight, it was like my emotions were on overdrive. I couldn’t think ahead, I could only think about my next immediate move.

I tugged on her skirt, trying desperately to bring her back into the house. But she didn’t budge.

“Mom!”

“Little runt…” she said, her voice had lost its sweetness; it was somber. She turned her head to look at me.

“Ghh!” I lost my words again, her face, it was clawed. Four distinct claw marks ran from the right side of her face to the lower left and were bleeding so much, I could barely see any of her green skin.

“Hide, Fin,” words that I held close to my heart, once again graced my ears. I froze. She pushed me away. My body inexplicably flew and I landed into a small cramped closet full of spices. The same closet I hid in all those years ago.

It’s all happening again.

I clawed at the door in front of me; it wouldn’t budge, I could only see outside through a slight crack. I could see my mother standing there, in front of an equally as large black mass.

“No,” I whimpered. I already knew the outcome, “NOOO! Momma!” I banged and banged on the door but it wouldn’t open.

“Fin…”

A voice came from my left. My blood ran colder.

There was someone in this pantry with me.

My head turned so slowly I could hear my bones creaking. Next to me was a terrified Ange, with her skull helm half formed. Tears were running down her face, her eyes reflected the fire and mayhem from outside. I looked at her, a spitting image of that day, but something felt different.

“I’m gonna save her,” Ange grabbed my hand with her tiny, shaking hands, “I’m gonna save her, okay, Fin?”

“W-w-wha-”

Before I could get the words out, the doors flung open and Ange ran out towards my mother and the shadow. I reached for her, but I was too slow, she escaped my grip. I tried to run after her, but I was too slow; the doors shut in front of me.

I pressed my head against the crack, trying to watch, trying to see what was going on, but the fires were too bright; I couldn’t see over them.

It was then I heard a scream, one I had never heard.

“Ange?!” I screamed.

No no no no. You can’t die, you’re not supposed to die here! Not now!

Something that shouldn’t happen; I was sure Ange was still alive. This wasn’t correct. It jumpstarted me, my arm grew, I unleashed a part of my Incarnate form, growing the true arm of an ogre. With its strength, I punched open the door and ran forward into the flames.

I don’t know for how far I ran, but eventually, in the midst of flames, I saw a familiar figure; my mother.

“Mom! We can fight together!” I yelled as I reached her, “I’m stronger now! I can help you.”

But my mother didn’t respond. Instead, my words were answered with her head falling forward.

I didn’t think; I wasn’t thinking, my hands just happened to be there to catch the head that fell. It was heavy. It was clawed. It was my mother.

I crumpled to the ground and sobbed, bringing my mother’s head close to my chest.

I only had eight years with you.

My tears fell onto her face as I tried to close her torn flesh but to no avail. My tears weren’t going to solve anything like in fairytales, but yet I tried. I wanted to remember my mother as the beautiful person she was; not like this. Not like how that person left her. But my pursuit was interrupted; I hadn’t noticed the shadow that loomed.

“Fin! Help me!”

My head flung up immediately but it was too late. A final shriek noted the skewering of a life.

Before me, Ange’s limp body dangled. Her torso, impaled, bloody claws proudly sticking out of her back in full view. The figure that ended my mother held Ange up with the hand that skewered her. It reached for her forming skull helm.

Scrcchh.

The sound of skin tearing reached my ear. The looming figure tore off what was forming of her helm, tearing off a portion of her head in the process. It tossed it to the side and just as nonchalantly tossed what was left of Ange to the side like she was a used rag.

Before me stood the reason our lives were ruined. That member of the Blood Hounds that just showed up one day.

I glared at him from my crumpled posture, “Blood Claw,” I muttered, flinging curses in my mind.

The sentient clad in pitch black armor, a hulking figure that left only one part of his body uncovered; his hands. Hands that were claw-tipped at the fingers. Claws that were eternally covered in blood.

Everything I was up till now, was built up for the purpose of destroying this man, and here he was in front of me.

My fear bowed before my anger and I lobbed my gargantuan fist at the mass.

“BLOOD CLAW!” I yelled.

The fist landed , square in the chest, but the hulking mass didn’t budge. Instead it grabbed my wrist and tossed me so brutally it felt like I was rolling over scorched land for miles.

When my never ending fall finally came to end, I was greeted to a new scenery. One of a burnt down house, whatever was still standing of it, blackened by fire.

There from my position, fallen on the ground, I looked towards a beam of light that fell from above like a spotlight. There, kneeling in its center, I saw her.

“T-Teach,” I said feebly. For some reason, my body didn’t want to move just yet.

There she was, crying over two bodies’ whose heads rested on her laps.

Her son. Her husband.

The Blood Claw and the Blood Hounds; they killed them too. And now Deleim was weeping for them.

Before I could say anything else, the shadow appeared once more behind Deleim and my heart raced.

NO!

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. It was sealed shut. I tried to move, but I couldn’t feel my legs. The Blood Claw raised his arm; he was going to slash Teach. I tried to reach for her, but my hand fell from it’s wrist, and then my forearm fell from the elbow spewing out shadows as if it was blood.

My trembling eyes found my teacher again an instant before the execution. The guillotine-like claw swung down, meeting flesh, and the head rolled. It rolled all the way over to me, coming to a rest only a foot away. And then the world around me went dark. All that was left was me and Teach.

“Why?” I whimpered, “What did I do wrong?” Deleim didn’t respond. “Why did you guys die?” No answers from the head that lost its luster. “I’m sorry, Teach… I said I’d get revenge for your family… Why… Why are we back here again?”

This was the worst day of my life. The day that the Blood Hounds and the Blood Claw destroyed our tiny village, leaving only a handful of survivors.

Teach and Ange were supposed to live, but they died this time.

“Why! I don’t get it,” I whimpered, choking on tears and snot, “I don’t get it, they survived didn’t they?”

I could feel my mind coming undone at the seams; there was only so much one could take. I doubted what I knew or rather, what I thought I knew.

“Fin!” Deleim’s voice called me back. In front of me, her decapitated head was speaking to me. “Fin, can you hear me!” it shouted, its face contorted by anxiety, though I was only a hand’s reach away.