“Mharia, enough. It was a doll. If it means so much? You will be given another,” her father said, cutting their argument short. Mharia spun, her curls bouncing as she stared up at her father on his throne with tears in her eyes.
“But... I made that doll from straw from the stables and Cook helped me stitch it together,” she said before she pointed to her elder sister who looked the picture of innocence.
“Tell Tirse to give it back! She’s just using it to torment me,” Mharia pleaded but their father sliced his hand through the air, silencing them.
“I don’t have time for your games, daughters. I am runned ragged preparing for Cernick’s 12th birthday and the ceremony,” he said and Mharia felt a pang of guilt as she saw the slight dark eyes of her father, signs he had been up late coordinating merchant routes and the passage of the priests.
Cernick was nearby, enjoying the scene like the brat he was. It was likely he and Tirse worked together to hide Mharia’s doll. Some days her youngest sibling liked to work with her eldest sibling.
Some days they were each other’s worst enemies.
Cernick looked like a horrible little copy of their father with dark hair and cheeks which were quickly becoming defined as the baby fat melted off them. Tirse was a pretty girl with hair much fairer than Mharia’s and the gods had decreed that she’d be able to eat an entire roasted pig and not gain a single inch on her waist.
Mharia was the ugly middle child... or so her siblings teased. Slightly more round than Tirse and less blessed with noble features like Cernick, Mharia often felt a bit like she had been found in the forest one day by her parents and taken in out of pity.
“Again, I haven’t seen your doll,” Tirse said quietly, her voice soft as she only used it sparingly or to sing at gatherings, much to their mother’s delight. It would not be hard for Tirse to find a suitor that she might actually enjoy being married too.
Mharia turned and left the throne room without another word, exiting out into a large courtyard area where blossoming trees were trying to grow buds for the spring. Mharia hoped to see some this year, but it was clear they were struggling. Mharia sighed as she moved to a large alcove, looking down at the kingdom of Turtog, a modest kingdom with a bustling population, staying afloat with large trades of ore and metals...
Even as their crops and livestock died from some plague.
They called it a plague, but it was more like a wide-scale poisoning, but no one could find culprits or a source. Mharia hadn’t heard the details, but they said that people stopped drinking the water without heavily boiling it first.
Looking at Turtog made her think how her siblings could have hidden her precious doll anywhere. A small dark figure with curious blue eyes. There were no details and the Cook said it looked a little ‘spooky’, but Mharia didn’t care.
She huffed, lifting her dress and heaving to the lonelier part of the castle where she slipped into the old servant quarters. Mharia was discovering a lot about her home. She had started going to extreme lengths to find places to be alone without leaving the castle’s protective ‘magic’ which would alert her mother if she ever crossed some invisible boundary.
All those tales of princesses running off to be pirates or meeting bandit kings who were really kind never had that problem!
She moved until she squeezed into the old storehouse where the coal and logs used to be stored for winter. Crouching low, she stripped off her dress, revealing the cheap fabrics she had stitched together out of discarded potato sacks.
There was no point in dirtying her dress, she’d never get it clean in time for the ceremony. It was in this old and forgotten place that Mharia had made the best discovery of her 14 years.
A long narrow dark shaft that seemed to sink down below the castle.
Mharia discovered her mother’s magic barrier only stopped Mharia going ‘away’, not ‘up or down’. A slight flaw really, but Mharia hadn’t informed her mother about such a weakness for reasons Mharia couldn’t be bothered listing.
As she made her way down, she nearly shrieked when a spider scuttled over her hand, but she urged herself on. Every minute was precious.
After what seemed like ages, she finally emerged in a space so dark that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
“Flickem Flicker Flame,” she whispered, getting enough sparks to form a tiny fireball. At least she wasn’t devoid of magic potential. It was expected of boys like Cernick not to bother with magic as he would train in the sword, but as a princess of Turtog, Mharia was expected to be able to defend herself or show off on demand like some demented show pony.
The weak light showed that her magic potential was... flimsy, but there nonetheless. She used it to move down the corridors. It looked like old rocky cave walls suspended by beams of wood that creaked when she moved too fast past them.
She knew these passages so well by now that she didn’t even need to think about her journey.
Left, right, right, under the fallen beam, passed the boulder that looked like a gnome, down the hallway, past the collapsed passage and the headless skeleton crushed under rocks, and finally down a long curving tunnel.
Mharia slowly emerged in a large space that had tons of mining equipment discarded about. Over time, Mharia had turned the cart into a comfortable little nook with a pillow inside it, the pickaxe was used as a hook for any coats of satchels she had with her and she hid a supply of good quality candles nearby.
She lit one and put it inside a shade container that heavily dimmed the light. It had to be just dark enough.
Once she was ready, she walked over to a large crack in the wall before she pounded on it with her fist.
“Are you going to wake up or am I going to have to shove the candle in again?” she called and the utter darkness inside the crack stirred. After a moment, what seemed like liquid shadows slowly began to ooze down the crack before it pooled.
“It's… bright,” the pool gurgled.
“It’s dark. You’re just sensitive,” Mharia scowled.
“Perhaps more sleep,” the voice said before the puddle slowly pulled itself into a small featureless form that barely came up to Mharia’s knees.
“You once told me you’d be taller and crush rocks with your bare hands. I am beginning to think you lied to me,” Mharia said dryly as she sat down in the shade to let her friend escape the light.
“It’s not a matter of... time? The passing of moments? Yes... time... it is a matter of insides. Blooming insides. Together in one,” the shadow said slowly. It did everything slowly, like it honestly wasn’t in a rush or had a limit on time.
“Sun, if you go into a ramble about those seeds again I will squish you back into that hole in the wall,” Mharia warned.
Sun was Mharia’s only real friend. She called it Sun because when she asked what it was one time, all it could say was ‘it was the sun and the seed’.
Seed wasn’t a good name and Mharia found it a little funny to name her friend who hated light so much after the biggest source of light around.
“Don’t squish me. It is unpleasant. I am the seed. Do not squish the sun of the great seed,” it muttered feebly. Mharia rolled her eyes and pulled out a nearby blanket. Unrolling it, the white gleaming bones of various rats that had died in the tunnels had been cleaned and carefully stored along with a human skull.
“Can we practice? Today hasn’t been... good,” Mharia asked quietly and Sun looked up at her, it’s dark blue glowy lights it had for eyes examined her for a long time.
“Are you sad?” it asked and Mharia shook her head, lying as not to worry her friend.
“Just a long day,” she lied.
“I can... help practice. Your seed responds well to this art,” Sun said softly as it slowly put its ‘hand’ over hers as she channeled her magic. Unlike when cast the fire magic or the more traditional barrier magic of her mother, there was no slowness or resistance. Mharia’s mana flowed so much better.
It felt natural.
The bones began to glow and tremble before the rat bones slowly formed little crooked legs for the human skull which chattered, jaw rattling. It took a few wobbly steps before it collapsed into a pile again.
That sad little action took a quarter of her reserves away in a single sweep. Mharia really was pathetic.
“You are wonderful,” Sun murmured, making Mharia blink at the shadow stupidly before she covered it up with an irritated expression.
“False compliments are not becoming of friends,” she said, looking away. The shadow tugged and Mharia had to steady herself as the force was enough to move her with ease. He was a strong thing, even at his weakest.
“What is false?” Sun asked and Mharia stared, not understanding.
“Falsehoods, untruth, lies,” she waved a hand and after a moment there was a long moment before Sun let her go.
“I do not understand,” Sun said bluntly. Mharia rubbed her forehead. Sun was her friend, but she had to remind herself he was legitimately a blob of shadows she pulled out the wall for a chat and magic training.
“People lie. They say things that aren’t true. Sometimes they do it to spare your feelings, sometimes they do it to avoid being in trouble, and a lot of the time, they do it hurt you,” Mharia said quietly, thinking of her doll.
“You think I was being false about your progress?” Sun asked after this, his form slowly dropping balls of slow moving shadow up and down from his arms and head.
Like a ball of darkness that had its own gravity.
“No- It’s just... I don’t handle compliments well,” Mharia said slowly as she picked up a nearby stone and tapped it gently against the cart.
“Your seed was closed. It was small and it cried. It said you felt empty and you felt sad. It was that that awoke me when you first fell in these mine tunnels,” Sun began as he sat down next to her and tried to mimic her attempt at tapping the mine cart as if it were a new game.
“My seed shouldn’t be so expressive,” Mharia whispered as she dropped her stone, but Sun caught it with his shadows and handed it back to her.
“I disagree. To be open is to love. We all came from one being in the dark times. We should not hurt, ‘lie’, or close off from one another, but we do. I do not know why. Is it because of demons? Did the gods divide us? Does the light reveal our flaws too easily?” Sun asked himself.
Mharia really wondered how Sun knew what a god was but didn’t know what a lie was. He was so strange...
“The ceremony is tonight,” Mharia finally said and this made Sun look at her with a slight flare to his eyes.
“You cannot go,” he insisted, not really commanding her, but he hadn’t quite gotten the ‘pleading’ tone down from his monotone.
“It’s kind of noticeable if I don’t. I am a princess, even if I don’t stand out,” she pointed out, getting irritated at the whole thing all over again.
“Everyone is scared. We need to fix the food problems,” Mharia insisted and Sun looked down at the bones.
“You are learning the art of death, your powers will be sufficient to discover the cause of the plague. You will be the savior,” he protested before he looked away.
“Not them,” he finished quietly.
“By the time I’m ready, it’ll be too late. I have to be a hundred years old before I’m any good to these people. My talents are worthless,” Mharia stood up and kicked the human skull into the darkness where it clattered a few times before everything went silent.
Mharia looked down as the candle light became blurry.
How unbecoming of a princess... at least only Sun could see her.
“Lies.”
It came so abruptly that she spun in surprise. Sun was standing there and staring at her.
“That was a lie. A falsehood. An illusion of words that try to hide what is obviously the truth. Your talents are better than you claim. Few... very can simply animate bones and more with sheer mana. Most need a connection or some power passed down. You are the first of your line to use this art. You are worthy. I cannot lie,” Sun said firmly.
“Sun...” she said before inhaling once. She masked her urge to sob into the strange little shadow’s arms. He would likely run away in fear of being ‘squished’.
“I’m glad your speaking lessons are paying off,” she said briskly and Sun tilted his featureless head.
“I have a good instructor,” he agreed.
---
In the end, she had to attend the ceremony. She only barely made it in time after washing up and rushing to the royal chambers behind the grand hall. Tirse stepped forward to avoid crushing her. Not even her siblings would dare make a scene or pull any antics with the way their mother fretted back and forward, making final preparations.
Mharia’s mother was beautiful. Her hair was the kind of blond that burned in the sunset, her sparkling eyes could easily become diamonds or soft gems depending on her mood, but today, her soft green dress and adornments couldn’t do much to hide her stress.
Father strode past, looking ready to do his part. They entered the courtyard and Mharia’s eyes widened at what was waiting for them.
A woman in dusky grey robes had chains coming off her hands and neck, four of them pulled taut to the four corners of the room. She could have been jolly or even a pleasantly happy aunt of some child of the town. The way she seemed unbothered by the chains or even the series of priests around was... alarming.
Mharia’s father settled on his throne with her mother taking her place on the other. Mharia and her siblings would stand behind and to the side.
“Witch, you know why you are here,” her father announced and the woman looked slowly up as if she was on a holiday of some kind and taking in the sights, she smiled with almost impossibly straight teeth.
“Do I? Oh, do tell me,” she encouraged.
“You and your despicable lot have murdered farmers, knights, and travellers between here and the Kingdom of Verluan. We find them strung up in trees, hung like demented scarecrows. What do you say in your defence?” her father demanded and Mharia peered at the woman doubtfully. She didn’t seem like someone who would string people up...
The woman sighed as if inconvenience by the impromptu witch trial she hadn’t been giving proper notice of.
“Guilty as charged! But we did give ample warning,” the woman pointed out as if this was a technicality.
“Witch-” her father began again before the woman actually spoke over him in a lecturing tone.
“Holly… Dabbergahst, if you would,” she instructed. That was the kind of name a heroine or some cool villain would have! Mharia was still wondering what exactly was going on.
“Dabberghast,” her father said, amending his words, “the Blackthorn forest belongs to this land and you know if I want to burn it down to reach the ores beneath soil, I can. Your warnings are without power,” he warned and Dabberghast smiled coyly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. But we honestly don’t need to lift a finger beyond protecting important areas. Your own actions are justice enough,” she shrugged, not an easy feat with her easy chains.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“You know of the plague?” Mharia’s mother asked sharply and the woman looked at her with a relaxed smile.
“Only the plague of short solutions for shorter results. If you want a clearer answer, give us the power to be an independent state and we will aid our ‘neighbours’ with joy. We don’t enjoy having to burn with the rest of you for the sake of it,” she offered.
There was some shuffling from the watching noble heads and guards, but Mharia’s father shook his head.
“You were not brought here to bargain. Only to pay for your crimes. A solution is at hand and I don’t need to bargain with murderers and beasts to protect my people, only for them to be cattle to witches of the wood,” he said, voice like steel.
This got the first frown from Dabberghast since Mharia had seen her.
“I suspect that burning down the forest and unearthing all the pretty rocks is not your solution?” she said and Mharia felt uneasy when her father looked skywards where the grand’s hall majestic roof was peeled back like a flower blossoming.
The Star Gate was one of Turtog’s wonders. One of Mharia’s favourites.
“When unspeakable powers and threats take my kingdom’s chances of surviving, I must respond in kind. Turtog has remained without a core god or religion as long as my bloodline has existed. We have allowed other practices to exist out of respect and to remove evil, but as a whole? We lack the power, the protection of a god,” he said and the stars above twinkled like fireflies.
That was... Mharia swallowed hard, but she didn’t dare move. Dabberghast had little care to do the same. Her chains rankled as she tried to move forward.
“Why not ask for a priest to come. Why not adopt a god that is already formed?” she demanded and Mharia’s father looked down as if there was binding on his own hand.
“I’ve seen how that works. A religion that knows it is needed has power not even a king can counter. I cannot let my people be saved from this danger only to be thrown in the midst of a bloody civil war,” he suddenly yelled and Dabberghast narrowed her eyes.
“So you will conjure the beings from the other side, poke your own hole in the sky for new light to shine through. Create your own little star and hope it shines brighter than the rest. You would rather deal with a creature of such inhumanity that the potential sight of it could rob you of your sanity?” Dabberghast asked quietly, but her voice carried.
“Yes, and your life will be the dagger in which to pierce the sky. Instead of simply hacking off your head like the murderer you are, your life will be put to good use,” the king announced and Mharia’s hands trembled.
Sun’s words came back to her, in her mind.
‘I do not know why. Is it because of demons? Did the gods divide us? Does the light reveal our flaws too easily?’
Was... Mharia’s family going to kill the woman? Like some show? Other people looked grim and others looked hopeful.
Was her Father going to just... call a god to help them?
Dabberghast snorted and looked away.
“Do it. Death begets death. Violence calls violence. Your god will be as bloody as the coins you use to pay for his carriage here,” she scoffed.
“I know,” Mharia’s father said with grave sorrow before he nodded to the priests.
“Begin,” he instructed and the chains on Dabberghast’s wrists and neck began to glow with dark red symbols. This wasn’t right. Mharia could save them, but as much as she wanted to protest, her fear and shame kept her silent as the woman writhed for a moment before half of her skin began to turn to wood.
After a moment, the wood began to be pulled off Dabberghast like she was being stripped of bark from a tree.
“The gift of nature from a Druid on the verge of wood or flesh. I seek not death, but your life,” the king, a man Mharia couldn’t call father at that moment, said as Dabberghast stared at the wooden form that looked like her being pulled into the circle.
“That’s my choice! My choice!” she roared, the chain buckling as she tried to reach for the wood.
“I choose to be wood or flesh, not you!” she snarled, eyes glowing black.
After a moment she fell to her knees, still heaving and snarling.
“I am... flesh,” she whispered and her eyes looked at the circle where the wooden face looked back with sorrow.
“Your god will be everything you wanted and more,” Dabberghast warned like a curse and Mharia felt sick. With one last look, the King nodded and the guards lead her out, dragging her as she refused to be led peacefully.
There was a lot of mana being gathered as the wooden druid form looked skyward as if thinking. The priests slowly used the magic circle to raise their voices and as things reached a crescendo of mana and chanting, the wooden form exploded, a green light shooting skywards.
A star appeared, directly above their kingdom. It formed like someone took a knife and dragged it down the darkness.
Inside the circle a single stem grew up from the solid stone, the bud white and closed. The king rose and approached it.
“It arrives, the envoy of our god,” he announced and the room’s atmosphere seemed to grow tense and excited. The flower pulsed but seemed to be content waiting. The king knelt before it, offering it the highest of respect.
“Oh god, being from beyond. I am King Harnick of Turtog. I call you here to bring life to my dying kingdom. Let us hear your desires and let us work in harmony,” he intoned. The thing bloomed.
Inside the bulb was an eye.
“I will heal this land of sickness as you desire,” it promised and its voice was strange, like an old man that spoke down at people. Mharia didn’t like it.
“Worship me. Offer your throne to be the soil in which I will become the Tree of this world,” it said and that... made her father swallow.
“Great one... there is a world tree already, the Almighty Wyin, the benevolent goddess who heals any that drinks of her sap,” he explained. There was a long pause as the ugly flower in the circle seemed to think this over.
“I see. Then half of my work is already done. But first,” it said and blinked once, the eyelids coming in sideways.
“Let me heal this land of its terrible sickness,” it said and everyone moved in close before the eye began to bleed a dark fluid as if crying.
“The foolish insects that rip it apart, poisoning themselves with the very metal they think will save them. You used pain and loss to bring me here, let me repay the kindness,” it said and it lashed out with a dozen tendrils, impaling people in the shoulder or in the leg.
One came for Mharia, but she reacted out of fear, her hand glowing sickly green which caused it to rot before it touched her. The plant demon screamed, the people around her stumbled.
“Bring me the deathbringer. Bring me the child of marrow!” it hissed. Mharia narrowed her eyes and snarled, moving forward to rot the demon before it hurt anyone else.
Her father, her mother, her guards, the nobles... her siblings all turned to her, thick worm-like veins pulsing in their necks or arms. Mharia backed up.
“Papa… Mother? Cernick? Tirse?” she called but they advanced on her as their eyes became dull.
“No... only me,” they said and the plant's voice came out of their mouth. Mharia screamed as they reached for her.
The ground exploded, sending her Mother and Father’s thrones into the air as a massive shadow tendril emerged.
“I told you... this was a bad idea,” Sun’s voice called out, loud and feral as it swiped at the people.
It took down people and after a moment, they seemed to just break apart as Sun pulled something out of them.
“These people are already slaves to two... you will not have them,” Sun challenged as the plant thing scurried away, using human shields to hide itself. Mharia ran but she was blocked off from Sun. A hand reached for her and she used her Mana in a panic.
A guard turned black and fell to pieces. Mharia felt a strange feeling come over her;
A sort of... numbness that made her question why she was moving or running... or raising the man as skeleton.
She had to... she had to run and survive!
“Such power... such unity of power. I want it, but no... you’re not the one, the true source,” the plant spoke from all angles and all mouths.
“Even as weak as I am to this plane... I can sense them. One high, so high it would burn me to touch... but another deep in darkness. That one... that one I can hunt,” it said with glee.
“As much as I hate them, My Aunt and Uncle will tear you apart and I shall enjoy it,” Sun said and Mharia turned as the shadow tendrils formed a rough human shape as it destroyed more and more lights.
“Family... would that make you... the Nephew then?” the plant murderer asked amused.
Sun looked at her and it was almost like he could smile.
“I suppose I am,” he agreed and part of the wall was struck as he moved to attack.
Something stabbed Mharia in the back.
“But your dear Princess Marrow will be short a friend, it seems,” the plant whispered before the creatures around them, no longer people, began to advance on them with no further comment, as if the plant demon was now too far to spend that much power.
Mharia hated that word... she hated that name.
Turning, she saw Cernick and Tirse standing there, their hands in her back as their ugly worm necks bulged.
Tirse blinked once and something was in her hand as if she was trying to work a limb that didn’t work anymore.
It was Mharia’s doll, Tirse must have been holding it when she was attacked... in the act of returning it to calm Mharia down from the ritual.
Mharia would kill the demon. She would find it, rot it, burn it, find out what made it tick and make it scream. She would study these worm monsters in her people... she would learn how to fix people.
But first... she couldn’t feel her body that much. They must have hit her spine.
Mharia couldn’t exactly do anything if she died, but as they were connected to her... the doll, the thing she put her mana into for fun acted like a strange bridge. It let Mharia see into her brother and sister, seeing beyond their flesh to a black seed where the worm was trying to burrow to... to feast on.
If they did that then her siblings were truly gone.
Mharia refused them that fate, she felt her own seed flow through the flesh, injected itself into Tirse’s body, pulling on Cernick’s for fuel.
A moment later, the parasites tried to kill Tirse, but Mharia flung Mana at it as it tried to surge into her... Tirse’s... brain.
However, the issue was she wasn’t working with her own tiny magic any more. Tirse was talented and Cernick was... scary in His own? Or perhaps personal potential. The mana escaped her control and she felt, painlessly, one side of her face explode in an angry raw crackle of energy.
Mharia grunted and pulled the bone back together with sheer mana, the bone becoming black as it became tough as it absorbed more magic.
The parasites rotted and Mharia turned as her aura spread, turning more monsters to dust. Sun watched her and he held two forms out.
Mharia saw her parents were partly gone and only one of her new eyes could weep, the other eye socket was empty.
“We all become one, but until then... you should look after them,” Su-
No, Nephew promised. Mharia took in her mother and father’s half deformed seeds and her mana again began to expand beyond her control.
“I don’t think... I can keep doing this,” she admitted as her bones creaked. The power was breaking her down and rebuilding her every second she couldn’t control it.
“You can’t. Bloodline of the Seeds allowed you to perform this act, but anymore will require true mastery,... there will be time for that later. You need to grieve,” Nephew instructed, but Mharia ignored him to move to the gates where she saw the castle gates were already torn open and the guards shuffling like the monsters inside.
“I can grieve tomorrow,” she said with a hatred to her tone.
“Tonight... Turtlog burns until I make a god scream,” she promised.
“Gods divide us. Demons lie to us. Even the sun and earth plot against us. In the end... we become one or we fall,” Nephew said as he fell into line with her, more an abstract shadow than anything.
“Then let us fall into silence. I don’t want to pray to the stars anymore. I just want it to be quiet,” Mharia said softly as behind her, her power finally ate through stone and the walls began to collapse inside.
Turning, she placed her doll down on a rock before the collapsing walls of her home.
“You cannot free them,” Cernick said poisonously.
“You should have joined us. It was peaceful,” Tirse agreed.
“I will free you... even if death becomes the only option,” Mharia said to the doll, leaving it behind with her innocence and life.
Her siblings, turned mad, continued to speak to her. Their words like glass, but each moment was also... comforting. Knowing that they were still there.
A hundred years? Mharia had time now. She could figure something out.
---
Holly Dabberghast walked out of the gardens of the castle, a crushed worm in her hand.
She looked at the pair walking off before picking up the doll left behind. The magic inside was small, but it was... there.
She turned the thing over where she saw the princess had stitched a name into the back.
It was a little crude and hard to make out.
Suv? San?
She ran a finger over it and tried to read it in the moonlight.
Sav.
It was the best guess she had.
She would hold on to it for now. You never knew when these things came in handy. Around her, the rotting worms and people began to leak into the soil, bringing life to the dead soil, the first to emerge was a dark greyish mushroom that survived despite the metal poison in the ground.
She bent down and feeling morose and a little dark, she nibbled it.
Dabberghast spat it out with a smile.
“Disgusting. A bite of that could rot one’s gut,” she mused.
Holly Dabberghast wandered off to her woods, not leaving until 50 years when a foolish man called her beautiful.
Her only guest in all that time that made it out alive before then was a strange man looking to learn about that foolish kingdom. He was amusing and Dabberghast found his barely contained bloodlust entertaining.
The fact he brought her information on the plant parasite that used her wooden blessing as a tie to this world was the only reason she traded him the doll the Bone Princess left behind.
She would not see that man for sometime until she ran into him in Durence Village.
Jolin Japes was a very interesting man.
But Holly Dabberghast was just a friendly neighbour who didn’t poke her nose into things. She helped her neighbours... it was her thing.
Really... ask anyone.