The weeks following the woman’s tortuous death were spent in a haze. The new woman, who had been chosen by the leader to take care of the boy, was much more distant and cold. She didn’t comfort him when he woke from the nightmares brought on by what he had witnessed. She didn’t speak to him when she prepared his meals and gave them to him. The only times she spoke were the times when he refused to eat or drink. But then she just shouted at him and ultimately forced any food and drink down his throat.

The leader continued to visit him regularly, while taking even greater care to check him. Still, it was apparent the boy’s shut-in mental condition was to his liking.

“The soul grows thiner with every day”, he mused, content while talking to the boy’s guardian. “While it’s a setback, it’s far smaller than I anticipated. I should’ve chosen you in the first place.”

“It’s an honour to be of such a great use to our Lord and Master”, she replied softly and bowed.

“The Great Revered One is certainly pleased with you, my dear”, he replied, equally soft.

What an utter fool!

The boy startled upon hearing the shadowy figure's voice inside his head. At the same time, black claws reached towards him from the ground, grabbing his ankles and sapping all the warmth from his body.

He thinks I’ll reward them, boy. Can you guess why?

The boy couldn’t answer. His chest as tight as if constricted by a rope. His heart throbbed against his throat.

The fool thinks that I’ll reward him and his ilk for feeding me souls, boy. But he also thinks he can imprison me inside your fragile body. Me, a servant of a mere mortal? How ridiculous!

The laughed inside the boy’s head felt like a roaring avalanche. But the presence of this being, as well as the memories of the death he had witnessed, cause the child to remain unmoved on the outside.

He won’t succeed, the voice continued, gleeful. He’ll soon die along the rest of you. It was a good time, but now I got to leave. See you in hell, pipsqueak!

The boy felt the presence leave and just stared at the leader, who hadn’t noticed anything and was still talking to the boy’s caretaker.

“Well, time’s fleeting”, the leader said with a content expression and petting the woman’s head. “I need to return to the preparations for the ritual. Furthermore, I’ve been thinking about it and decided, once the ritual has commenced, I’ll make you, my dear, my main bride.”

“This would be such an honour!”, she replied eager, without looking away from the leader.

In return, he kissed her on the forehead and moved towards the boy. The child just stared blankly at the leader. Still, a part of him wanted to warn this cruel man. A part, that couldn’t stand witnessing people die. But before this part could take a firm hold, it was squashed by the memory of the death of the boy’s wet-nurse. Her screams hollowing out his very soul.

The leader’s expression softened at seeing whatever was written on the boy’s pale face. Content, the man turned around and left them. Somehow, death didn’t seem so bad to the boy. He at least hoped that it would nullify the grotesque images in his head.

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—

The boy remained where he was; laying on the ground, his hollow eyes staring at the rough wall beside the moth-eaten blanked he slept on. The only sign of time passing was the strange songs his guardian hummed while she sewed some nice-looking fabrics into something like a dress. The boy couldn’t help but think of his first caretaker, but the tears, pressing against his chest and the base of his head, didn’t reach his eyes.

When the side he rested on began to hurt, he didn’t move. When the woman, who was watching him, moved, he didn’t look up or turned around. The only thing forcing him on his feet was his full bladder, but only because his new guardian had shouted at him and forced him to clean the mess he had made during the first night after the murder.

Like a sleepwalker, the boy stood up and shambled towards the bucket used as a toilet in the furthest corner of the large room. His guardian ceased her humming and watched him with a scowl, as if angry at the mere reminder that she had to waste her time with him. Luckily, she didn’t say anything and lucky for the boy, he didn’t cause any sort of mess.

Once he was back on his spot, he curled into a ball, still facing the wall. The woman stared at him a little longer, her gaze almost like a tangible spear in his back. Once again, as content as she seemed able to become considering the situation, she started once more her disharmonious humming.

“Time to eat!”, the woman shouted right next to him.

Startled, the boy scrambled to his feet and nearly knocked the grey porridge inside the cracked earthen bowl over. His caretake was visibly displeased about his luck, but beyond making a face worse than any demon, she didn’t react. Hasty, the boy grabbed the bowls and forced the nearly tasteless food down.

Not even a heartbeat after he was finished, she snatched the bowls from his hands and nearly twisted his fingers. Without another word or glance, she turned away from him and vanished into the second room of the building. The boy knew that this was the bedroom because his old caretaker had let him sleep within it during the cold seasons. But this cold night, just like all the others since the murder of his former caretaker, he had to make do with the blanket he rested on.

—

Nightmares.

Endless nightmares.

The woman’s broken, bloody face.

Her screams.

His inability to intervene.

His lack of strength.

Nails digging into his skin.

His own body falling apart.

Now it was his turn to be torn into pieces.

—

The boy startled awake. He had somehow managed to avoid screaming. But the relief from this realisation was short-lived. He felt something approach him. It was like the shadow, which had spoken to him, yet different. There was determination and a certain inquisitiveness.

Suddenly, something soft and prodding, yet invisible like a whisper, pushed through the walls and seeped into the room. It felt distinctly alive and curious. The boy stood up, expecting an animal, but there was nothing. The whisper touched him. It felt like a cold gust of wind but conscious.

Whatever it was seemed surprised at finding him and him noticing it. It stopped and lingered by his side. Uncertain, the boy backed away, but the whisper didn’t follow. Instead, it seemed to turn further into the room, towards the door behind which the boy’s guardian slept.

Fear gripped the boy’s heart. This whisper was like the shadow. It could harm her too. It could break her. Tear her open. It didn’t hurt him. Nor did it spoke. It seemed calm and inquisitive. It didn’t felt like it wanted to harm either her or him. Still, the fear stayed.

Trembling and indecisive, the boy grabbed the blanket he had rested on and pulled it over his head. No matter what happened, he didn’t desire to witness anything. After all, he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The whisper retreated a moment later, leaving nothing in its wake. But the boy remained where he was, with the blanket above his head and his eyes closed tightly with his hands on top of them. The silence inside and outside the room seemed to grow tighter. Like a rope ready to snap.

Then it happened.

Outside, the boy could rather feel than hear people barging into the complex. Something malicious seemed to react to the intruders but was pushed aside. Mere seconds later, people began to scream. The boy’s guardian seemed to drop out of the bed and slammed the door open. She screamed obscenities and rushed past the boy without stopping. Judging by the sounds, she vanished behind the curtain through which the leader usually entered. A door was opened and the sound of confused screaming and angry shouts poured into the room. The boy didn’t budge. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and moved his hands to his ears to drown out the sounds.