The carriage rolled into the forest, and the light left the world. The morning sun, shining down through the windows in heavenly beams, faded. Beneath them the smooth, dry road made for smooth rolling, leaving Redmun undistracted from staring at the forest.

“An interesting effect, isn't it?” Master asked from across the carriage, his kind, toothless smiling lighting up his side of the interior, even as the darkness set in. “No-one knows what takes the light away, here. Not that that's news, eh?” He laughed – an old man's laugh, lacking all self-consciousness. Redmun wished he could laugh like that. Rose was beside him, though, her presence like a knife against his skin. “Try not to look so glum, my boy. You'll do alright, won't you?”

Redmun nodded, and returned to peering. How many things watched from that tree-line, and how many of those monsters would he meet today?

“Answer when your teacher speaks to you, my boy,” Rose said, her my boy an insult where Master's comforted.

“Apologies, Master,” Redmun said, managing a polite smile. Master returned it, though his wizened green eyes oozed sympathy. “Perhaps I could ask why you chose Dark's Forest?”

Master peered out the window, tapping his chin with his living hand. “You know, I'm not quite sure. It just felt right.”

Redmun frowned at that, but said nothing. Master always had a reason. Maybe he was nervous about today, too. Not a comforting thought.

The carriage rolled to a stop in the middle of nowhere, and it seemed, the middle of the night. Redmun hopped out before Rose could kick him out. Below to their left a river trickled, unseen in the darkness. To their right, nothing but a slope up, and beyond, Dark's Forest. It made no sound at all, not even in the wind.

“Right then, my boy,” Master said into the pitch black. The old, bald man's soft words eased the tension of the silence. A quick strike of flint-on-steel ignited a torch, scaring away the dark. His asymmetrical, multi-colored robes screamed hues against the stark void around them. The right arm lay exposed, but his left, the arm which held out the blazing torch, hid beneath rainbow-bandages. It housed Master's Evil, and the limb of the Damned from the Dead Earth. Even so, Master gestured gracefully with it. “How do you feel?”

“Ready, Master,” Redmun said, keeping his voice even. Any intonation could spell the end of his trial, and another year of training. Another year with Rose. That wasn't happening, no matter what. He'd slice his own throat instead.

“Excellent,” Master said, again revealing his toothless grin. “Today is a good day. I can feel it.” Master would never speak his worries, and Redmun loved him for that, but he knew the worries were there, because Master was not insane.

“You'd better not get anything shit,” Rose muttered as she retrieved his supplies pack from the back of the carriage, flexing her molten arm. “Not about to go trouncing about with a Imp-Possessor.”

Redmun flushed. “I won't!”

He regretted it even before that boulder of a hand struck his upper back, knocking him flat. Master was beside him in moments. “That's enough, Rose.”

Redmun tensed, watching carefully for signs of the coming explosion. Rose glanced up and down the old man, a look of mixed dismissiveness and judging, which finished on Redmun himself. “Hmph. Just as useless as his father,” she muttered, and tossed the backpack to the ground before turning away.

How did he do that? Stand up to her and… win? Redmun didn't dare try it. He got enough beatings as it was.

“Come, lad,” Master said, helping Redmun off the ground. His side was sore already, the pain spreading wide enough to hurt when he moved his arm. “I'll take you the rest of the way.”

Together they began up the hill, towards where the forest would be. Yet only a few steps and already the coach, it's hired driver, and Rose, faded into the thick dark.

When they reached the top, Master knelt, dropping the backpack to the ground. “How do you really feel, lad?” he asked, putting a gentle hand on Redmun's shoulder.

Looking into those soft, caring eyes, it almost felt like he could cry. If only. “Fine,” he said, and found his voice firm.

Master widened his smile encouragingly. He knew. “Good. Now, despite her brash ways, Rose is right – you mustn't make a Pact with something too weak, or it won't be worth it. And anything too powerful will break you in days. And whatever you do, make the conditions strong. Understand?” This part Redmun knew, and could smile as he nodded. “Good,” Master said again, and handed him the lit torch. “Off with you then. You've a week.” And with that, Master, his bright clothing, and his brighter smile left Redmun in the dark.

The place did well for its name – the light did little to illuminate the thick trees – if such lifeless husks could be called trees. Their bark was near-black, as if it had been coated in soot, the texture more like craggy earth than living wood. Redmun could barely tell where the trees ended and the dark, bare dirt began. There was no sound, save for his steps, the crackling of the torch, and his own breath.

He took step after step, dagger at the ready waiting for any sound or sight that might appear before him. He let his feet guide him through the dark, ready for whatever might come. Even with his sight so diminished, his eyes felt sharp that morning, and his ears sharper. He listened for the calls of the wild Evils. Nothing came. Nothing but silence.

For hours, maybe days, he walked between twisted trees. Death, in the wild parts of that continent, was a thing more common than life itself, and with every step Redmun felt like something was watching him, waiting around the next lifeless tree to take his head off. He'd been trained to suppress his fear, to face it down without reservation whenever it sprang its ugly head. Easy to say, but out there, alone in the dark and the silence with nothing but a knife to protect him, Redmun found his jaw clenching, his fists tensing and his eyes blinking away fearful tears. And nothing had even happened yet.

A deep, throaty growl of bestial rage rolled out from the distance. The sound came from Redmun's left, and he spun, holding the torch and the blade steady before him. Long limbs shifted from the shadows, and stepped into the light, shielding pupil-less eyes with gangly, stretched fingers.

It was a Blemmyes, something like a decapitated man. It had no head, save that the gangly thing's ribcage spread open into a hungering maw, black-dotted eyes imbedded into its shoulders. Redmun thrust the torch in its direction. It flinched back from the light, hissing.

“God,” Redmun muttered, his limbs feeling week. Blemmyes were mindless. He couldn't make a pact with one, so that meant either he killed it, or he ran. Killing it meant ramming his knife through its spine – which meant putting his hand in its mouth. Even if it didn't rip his arm off in the process, its saliva was deadly in even the smallest cut. There was no way he was fast enough for that, right? He was just a boy… But he wouldn't outrun it either.

And just like that, the terror broke through his defenses. Without the pressure of Rose, all those childhood fears, all those nightmares of Evils ripping him apart came tumbling back. He was useless. He was going to fail. He was going to die! Redmun stumbled backwards, his trembling hand clutching for dear life at the knife, and the torch. There was no fighting, no running from this. He was going to die…

“Oh dear.” Redmun spun, pointing his knife. Removing the light from a Blemmyes' eyes would be instant death. “A sweet, precious child in danger,” the voice continued, but Redmun couldn't tell from where. Sickly-sweet, its whispering tone creept up his spine. “In need of protecting. In need of care, of love. Come, precious boy. Let me protect you.” It was a woman's voice, each word wrapped with loving – almost lustful – embrace. Branches shuffled, and the thing came forth.

A Dryad, a tree in the shape of a youthful, supple woman came into the light. Its golden-sap eyes looked at him desirously, its bark-covered fingers flitting over the human-effigy that was its form. Master's voice, embarrassed but firm, rose in his mind.

“Dryads are twisted things, my boy,” he'd said, in those lessons that seemed so distant. “They'll catch you, break your limbs, and rape you long past your last breath. They'll twist their roots into your broken corpse, make it pregnant with their young, and smile and laugh like a fine woman loving life the entire time.” Redmun had heard of Dryads being dealt with, but it was very, very rare. They were of the trickier sort, and whispered in their Possessor's minds without end. It was also very, very high in the food chain.

But there was no choice. Other than putting the knife to himself. Though that might just be the better option.

“I… I want to make a deal – a Pact!” he made himself say.

“A Pact?” The thing tilted its head as it peered at him, and the Blemmyes with its amber eyes. Staring. Weighing. It began weaving behind trees, almost out of sight. “A Possessor then, is it? What a sweet thing, to become so damaged. What sort of Pact would you like then, hmm?”

Redmun couldn't control the shuddering of his breath, the shaking of the blade and torch in his hands. He could barely hold his voice still. He glanced back at the Blemmyes – it seemed to be inching forward, all the while grunting and growling from deep within its throat. “My arm,” he said. That was a safe choice – good for directing whatever powers the thing gave him, but still removeable, should it come to that. “Take my arm, and give me your powers, and… and you can come with me. But there will be… conditions.” A Pact could be simple, and that was the problem. You had to negotiate terms, terms to give you a fighting chance against an Evil's influences. If, that was, you had the time to hash such things out.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The Dryad didn't speak until it had moved all the way around him. It came behind the Blemmyes, still held at bay by Redmun's torch, and wrapped its bark-covered arms across the beasts' leather skin. “And have my chance at taking your body, is that it, hmm?” It tapped its wooden lips, pondering. “But what sort of Possessor could a child make? Maybe if you showed your might – showed me how strong and brave you are – I'd consider it. Go on then, Possessor. Show me!” It's eyes turned vicious, and shoved the Blemmyes towards Redmun. Despite his terror, instincts took over. He dove forward, thrusting the flame into the thing's mouth. The rib-teeth slammed down on the shaft automatically, snapping off the burning end. Its stumble continued past, the thing now screeching in pain at the cinders in its mouth, trying desperately to tumble them out.

There was no sign of the dryad in the surrounding black, only the smouldering remains of the torch head, illuminating the Blemmyes's insides. Again, terror and hesitation were cast aside as his training stepped forward, and Redmun dove for the flailing, squealing Blemmyes. Without thought, his hand slammed the dagger into the thing's chest between gnashes. The cries stopped, and the thing fell limp.

Dead. The thing was dead. He'd kill an Evil. Surreal, blissful joy flooded his mind. He breathed in to cheer. Roots gripped his neck.

“Poor, little Possessor,” the Dryad whispered from behind. Redmun struggled, tried to cry out. He couldn't move, could barely breathe. “A valiant effort. What a pleasant toy you'll be.” Redmun tried to shake the vines creeping up his body, his hands grasped at the roots about his neck, straining every muscle he had. Nothing worked. He was at the mercy of this merciless creature. It was going to kill him, but it was going to draw out every sliver of suffering it could before letting that happen. He'd failed. He'd failed. The roots tightened about his neck, skin tearing, breath stopping.

Something struck them both like a tidal wave. The roots slackened and fell away, dropping him to the hard earth with a thud. Now, alongside the dread and pain throbbing through his skull was another sensation, another presence of terrifying proportions. It was welcoming him.

Air rushed into Redmun's lungs, fresh and relieving. The dryad shuddered away, whispering in some disgusting language as he gagged and coughed. Another wave came, and the Dryad flew back against the nearest tree as if some monstrosity had flung it. On the edge of that wave, Redmun could taste the edge of what was being sent to the Dryad. Where Redmun felt welcome, the Dryad was warned: leave, or die.

The tree-like thing began to scramble away, but gave him one final glance. “Better that I had had you,” it whispered, and scrambled away.

Welcoming came forth once more, sensations of calm and peace, trying to ease him. Safety, it said. Warmth and purity and friendship.

Redmun scrambled back. He had to get away from… whatever that was. He'd learned damn near every Evil off-by-heart and he'd never heard of anything this… powerful. The immensity of its presence rang in his head like a bell, and it set off every single warning sign his Possessor training had given him. He'd go. He'd find something else, something less… wrong. Or maybe he'd just go back, accept the beatings, the humiliation. This was beyond him, this…

The message came again, but this time with words. The phrase, which he heard as if the Gods spoke in whispers, said, “Help.” It was not a plea, but an offer.

Run, his mind tried to tell him, but every time it did another wave came, flooding his mind and senses with that pleasing welcome. Run, slit your throat, curl up and die – just don't let that thing get ahold of you.

Redmun took a step backwards into the dark. It wasn't just its power, it was the sweetness of the message, of its presence in his head. Far too kind, far too loving, far too tempting. It was wrong. He stepped back.

Another wave came. This was not welcoming, this was a dark, prickling wave of No. It held him in place like hooks in his flesh, and again he struggled with the surreal pleasure of the horrid feeling. It was watching him. He was in its net, and it wasn't going to let go.

Shivers and tremors began running through him, and he began to cry. There's no escaping, is there? He asked the Gods he didn't believe in. I'm going to die here.

He took another step, forward this time, and the wave came again. Yes, it said. Come.

It came as a light, the first he'd seen in the eons he'd spent wandering. Even far away, it pierced that eternal darkness to reach him, almost blinding.

More and more often he spied it through the trees as his unwilling feet trudged him forward at the thing's command. More than once he'd found the courage to turn around, but each time those demands came stronger, its hooks sinking deeper. He came, until at last he entered the same clearing in which it dwelled.

“Good evening.”

Redmun stood at the threshold of the thing's light, shaking like a leaf. What it was, or what was beyond it, was impossible to tell. The sphere of light was a meter across, and strangely the darkness about it was thicker, as if it were sucking in the light around it. His eyes stung just looking, but the pain was pleasurable, somehow. As if it were some long-deserved reward. That pain was worst of all. Strangely, horribly, the darkness around it seemed even more intense, as though that blinding light were the source of the black. But if it was sucking in the light, how could he see it?

“What is your name?” It was the voice of a sagely old man, whispering in his ear. Kind, as if anything like this could be.

What was this thing? What did it want? His mind worked, trying to understand or even guess all the sensations coming from it – the pain, the pleasure – addled his thoughts. With a voice he couldn't seem to hold steady, he replied, “Redmun.”

“Good evening, Redmun. Are you alright?”

“What are you?” Urine ran down his trouser leg. He'd never heard of anything remotely like this. Never imagine something so… He couldn't even think of it right. The voice, the light, it was… beyond ancient. “What… Evil are you?”

“Evil?” The voice seemed to taste the word. “What Evil am I?” The last seemed a question for both of them. “I offered help, and you came. Do you know why?” The blinding light seemed to shift, but Redmun could not tell how. Through his whimpering, he failed to answer. “I offer help, Redmun. Will you not take it? Isn't that why you came? Take it.”

There was no running. There was no fighting. But there was one thing he could do. “We can… make… a deal. A Pact.”

“A Pact? Yes. That sounds only fair.” The light bobbed, and Redmun realized it was closer than he'd thought. It swooped, and came yet closer, and the world faded to a painful white. The burning screamed in his mind, screamed of pleasure, of cleansing. He screamed in kind, screamed from the wrongness of it.

“What is wrong?” the voice asked, then moved away. “Do I frighten you? Do I hurt you?” Redmun forced his eyes shut, and held himself tight. He was on the ground, clutching the dirt in tense, shaking fists. Please, make it stop. Take me away from here. “I only want to help, Redmun. I only want to make you better. Come, let's talk. What do you have to offer me?”

Slowly, carefully, Redmun turned his head away, and extended a hand towards it. Like putting it in fire. “I offer my arm,” he managed through gritted teeth. He had to focus, had to think! Something like this needed strong conditions, or it would run wild, take him over, make him an Abomination. Getting them right was essential. Only, the pain searing his skin, and the sick rightness underneath were incredible, and it was a struggle to think at all.

Even with his eyes shut, he could see the thing move to examine his arm. It bobbed up and down, and circled him twice before it replied. “No, I think not. This is nothing but flesh. Meaningless...” It came closer now. Closer than he could bare. “Here.” The heat intensified, as if it were reaching out. Towards his chest. Towards his heart.

“No!” he screamed, scrambling back. “I can't! You can't!”

The light bobbed once more, and spoke in a sickeningly soothing voice. “Little, frail Redmun. You came seeking help.” It reached out to him once more, and Redmun scrambled back further. “Frail Redmun, here is my Pact. I will enter your heart, and become a part of you. Have my power. As much as of it as you want. All you have to do, Frail Redmun, is take me with you.”

“P-please…” His heart… It could take his heart – at least an arm could be cut off. He'd never be rid of it. “Please, just let me go.”

“Answer.”

“No!”

A moment passed, Redmun inching away from it, trying, desperately, to stop the burden. “Why are you here?” it asked.

“I… to become a Possessor.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Redmun frowned, trying to focus. “My father. I have to kill my father.”

It bobbed, made a sound half like a hum, half like a bell. “I can do this for you. Answer.”

“Please!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face. “Let me go!”

“Answer.”

It was just toying with him. What did it want from him? Why did he ever come here? Oh, Gods, why had he even been born?

But the answer was obvious. “Y… Y-yes.”

After three days of waiting in that endless twilight, Master Liander became concerned. After four days, he was sure young Redmun had failed. On the fifth day, Dark's forest lost its name, and they awoke with the sun in their eyes.

On the seventh day, Redmun stepped back out of the forest, thinner, filthy and bruised, but intact.

“My boy!” Liander called, his old heart suddenly fifty pounds lighter at the beautiful sight of the youth. He galloped up the hill, swept the boy into his arms, and hugged him tight, laughing. It was so good to feel the boy, after so long worrying. There was a strange burning sensation against his chest, but what did that matter? History had been made, the youngest Possessor had been born, but most of all, Redmun was safe.

Best not let his worry show too much, though. He placed the boy down, and asked the most casual question he could think of. “So, how did it go?”

But the boy wasn't looking at him. He wasn't even looking at Rose, who had become completely unmanageable the last few days. He was just staring at nothing, unblinking. Liander's smile fell. Something was wrong.

Relax, Redmun. The voice sent a shiver up his spine. It felt like it was coming from just behind him. As if he'd see the thing if he turned. But it was inside him. Inside him.

“Redmun?” Redmun finally heard Master speaking, turning slowly up at him. What did he say? What could he possibly say to explain what had happened? He'd gone in there to face monsters, to face the worst things the world could through at him, or die. And something even worse had happened. Every time he blinked, he could see light.

“Well, boy?” Rose's voice came from down the hill. She looked angry, as if that mattered anymore. “What did you get?”

Show them, if you want, the Evil said. Show them. They'll thank you.

Redmun wanted to die. He could feel it, in his chest. Could feel that sweet, disgusting pain burning through his body. It he squinted, he could see its glow extending from his chest.

“You should kill me.”

Rose stopped, looking at him. “Pardon?” He'd never heard Rose sound so affronted.

Master knelt down beside him. Beautiful Master, still trying to smile. “My boy, what Evil Possesses you?” His eyes fell to Redmun's chest, where that light was bursting forth. The realization ruined his calm face with horror.

“I… I don't know,” said Redmun, and all the stress and tension poured out of him. He fell to his knees and wept, uncaring of who, or what, was watching. Master's arms wrapped tightly around him and pulled the boy's head to his shoulder. Redmun let himself cry, let all of the horror and torture of his childhood, of the last few days with that thing inside of him, come flowing out.

It was still burning him, still tempting him with its sweetness. It would never stop.