Many worlds sat outside the city walls, scattered far from any path worthy of being marked upon a map. Their worlds turned in solidarity, often undisturbed until disaster dismantled them and they started anew, or faded back into the soil and leaves from whence they had sprung.

Like many of its neighbors, this village held no name other than Home. It was closer to the trails that marked maps and attracted adventure, but with so little the place had to offer, outsiders often passed by without a word.

But not this night.

In the cover of the tall trees, a guest approached.

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"Sariel up! Up now!"

Sariel grumbled as Medila viciously shook her, the old woman slapping her face and finally storming away with a sigh. Sariel stretched her arms with a groan, rubbing her eyes to get them working. "Is it morning? Already?"

Sariel leaned up, scratching her back and pulling stray bits of hay out of her hair. She had to get ready before Medila came back with a bucket of water. But as her eyes cracked open, only the licking light of torches strained them; daylight wasn't for a few hours.

She melted out of her grassy bed, holding the burlap blanket around her stick-like form as she grabbed around for some clothing.

Perhaps she had missed a chore. After all, Medila was taking a while to get that bucket of water, which meant she was mixing some mud in with it this time. Or maybe Miss Morningbell had run off again - she was the only village crazy other than her.

While she slid into a rough cloth blouse she heard a commotion outside, muffled yelling as torch lights danced through the cracks in her walls, running towards the center of the village. Medila ran back inside with a look of panicked urgency. "You're so slow! Hurry! Hurry!" She tossed a belt at Sariel for her to tie around her waist, grabbing her arm as she did and yanking her past her shoes. "Your hair! It's a mess!" Medila's eyes were even more urgent as she ripped the tangled hay out of it and hopelessly tried to tame the short black curls. "What's with you, girl? Sleeping like a pig!? You look like one!"

Sariel was still waking up as she looked around aimlessly.

She pondered why her hair had to look good. It never had to look good, except that one time Medila tried to sell her to some drunk soldiers.

She allowed Medila to lead her outside, staring at her aged frown in growing confusion as she grabbed a fancy metal clip and strung up her hair in a tight knot. "Did I miss a chore?" She yawned, flinching as Medila slapped her shoulder. Even as an old lady, her strikes stung worse than a charging Bristleboar.

"Wake up girl! There's a man here." She grabbed a dirty cloth and licked it, smearing the dirt splotches off Sariel's face. "It's dark enough to hide the rest, that'll do."

"A man? More soldiers?" Sariel replied, impassively watching Medila's toothy grin. At least it would have been toothy if half her teeth hadn't been knocked out from years of pinning down the ripe Bristleboars in the back.

"Sariel Sariel, my little Sariel," she continued, rubbing her shoulder with a soothing voice.

'That always meant she wanted something outrageous,' Sariel thought.

"This man has some coins, says he's a hero, and certainly looks it!" She let out a senile cackle. "I only want the best for you my little one, that's why I didn't leave you to the bloodwolves when you showed up in our village. Now don't you talk and he'll snatch you right up before realizing you're bonkers."

Sariel slowly nodded, squinting in the dark to pinpoint where exactly this hero was. "So he needs me to chop some wood for him?" Her smile fell to confusion as Medila led her towards a cluster of men and women holding up torches. "Mend his armour? Shine his boots..." She quietly apologized as Medila shoved through the crowd of gawking spectators to get to the front. "Give him a trim...? I've never trimmed people's ha-"

"Quiet Sariel!" Medila hissed. "Not another word from you, I want you to do one thing-"

Sariel's attention quickly rose to Rombel, the village leader. He was frail and old from years of catering to the love of the village, but nevertheless exceptionally kind to her. He'd thought of adopting her when she showed up at their gate, and she wished he had, but didn't have the guts to say it while Medila was still kicking. He was helping a man unsaddle his mount, the supposed hero looking more like a giant piece of metal as his chain mail glittered in the torchlight - not a single chink to mar the polished garb.

"Are you listening to me, girl!?" Medila tightened Sariel's belt two notches, knocking the air out of her as she gagged. "Don't you make such awful noises!" She stole a glance at the man as he made a motion to turn around. "You smile."

"Smile?" Sariel tilted her head, widening her eyes and parting her lips. "Like this?"

"Don't show yer ugly teeth girl!" Medila waited for Sariel to fix herself accordingly. "Now you stare at him and don't you blink."

She nodded.

Medila stared at the man as he turned to face the villagers. "Look at that youth!" She whispered harshly. "Handsome, isn't he?"

She nodded, her eyes twitching to blink as they dried out.

"You'd better get him. With a man like that I'm set for retirement!"

She nodded, wondering how she'd get the man to marry Medila.

Sariel frowned, a single thought screaming louder than the rest. 'He didn't look her type at all.'

"Good day," the man spoke, the torchlight outlining his chiseled features as he brushed his golden locks back with a chuckle.

Sariel tilted her head. The greeting was odd to her, there wasn't a shred of daylight outside. Goodnight would have been her first choice.

He threw out his arms as a welcoming gesture while his chain-mail clinked. "I am here to slay the beast that plagues this town!"

There was a long pause, the villagers erupting into chatter as they attempted to decipher the hero's claims. What sort of beast? A cat? A heated bloodwolf? He hadn't been very specific, and his sense of urgency was severely lacking.

Rombel dipped his head respectfully to the man, raising his hand to silence the muttering villagers as he greeted the hero with a warm smile. "What beast?"

"The beast! Has it not stolen a victim yet? Then you're in luck, for I've been tracking it for days! It smells of iron, with piercing green eyes! A creature born of wicked witchcraft. I'm sure you've heard the rumours on the wind, the Witch of the Westlock has been spotted at the northern pass." the man announced, the murmurs growing at his claims.

Sariel sniffed her hand. She had green eyes but wasn't sure what he meant by piercing.

"We've never heard of this beast, and we're far too humble to have spurred the wrath of a witch," Rombel said with a chuckle. "Perhaps your services would be put to better use elsewhere."

The man smiled, striking a pose as he leaned against his horse. "Why I am a hero, good sir, my services are completely free! As they should be. All I require is a signature of approval for vanquishing this beast."

"There is no beast here sir, but we'd be happy to put you up for the night," Rombel replied, flicking his gentle gaze over the crowd. "Would someone be kind enough to stable his horse while I take him?"

Sariel was about to take a step until Medila shoved her forward, and she found herself leading the large white steed away as the man tailed her, insisting on helping her even though he couldn't even lift his saddle. She was intent on following Medila's orders, and had chosen to walk behind the man, since walking backwards while staring at him would be more difficult.

The man glanced over his shoulder, popping an eyebrow as he locked gazes. "Are you crying, my lady?"

She shook her head, squinting in pain as the dryness mixed with the piercing cold of night. "I'm not allowed to blink sir."

She awoke the next morning, the man addressed himself as Corian Valdrake, and had given her a flower after laughing at her for not being allowed to blink - but it tasted awful. Now she was in the back stables, standing in confusion as the man fumbled over tying a bundle of sticks together. She was supposed to be doing that, but whenever she tried a chore he'd intervene and struggle through it.

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She looked at Medila in confusion, who was giving them both a toothy grin and thumbs up. She never did that when she caught her doing nothing, the leather belt came out without fail.

"Where ya from son?" she called, catching Corian's attention as he shot up with a gentle smile.

"The capitol ma'am, I'm out saving the king's villages." He stepped closer to Sariel. "This your daughter?"

"Bet your sword she is," Medila cackled. "Sweet, isn't she?"

He nodded. "Beautiful."

Sariel blushed. Only Rombel had called her that after she'd received two or three rocks to the head while playing Stone the Witch with her friends. "Thank you, sir, you're quite handsome." She smiled as the man blushed a little, darting her gaze to Medila every few seconds to gauge her reaction to the performance. Medila had taught her to always return compliments from men, and she assumed she'd done it right from the way her mouth kept rigid.

"You're too kind." He removed a roll of paper from one of his satchels, leaning closer to Sariel so his shoulder brushed hers. "I grew up in a village quite like this, worked years for this piece of paper."

She looked at the fancy letters blankly. There wasn't food or anything valuable on it. Sariel squinted at the man, wondering what sort of idiot would work years for a piece of paper.

"You know what it says?"

"Can't read sir."

"Oh." He chuckled, his voice pressed with entertainment. "That's good, It's from the king himself!"

She nodded slowly, shooting her attention to Medila's obnoxious shouts. "The king himself?! Why, you're a bonafide hero ain't ya boy?"

"You flatter me, ma'am," he replied modestly. "I'm an apprentice, but this paper says if I save 30 villages I'll be as bonafide a hero as the White Knight Caleb."

Her smile dropped. "Thirty? That's a hefty task there..."

"Got twenysev'n under my belt ma'am, this'll be my second last."

"Third", Sariel muttered, slapping a fat black fly out of the air before it had a chance to bite Medila's future husband. As she looked around for more attackers, she caught a different sort of movement in the distance. A few of the village men running by the village center with a frantic air about them. Curiosity gripped her as she watched the four men carrying a roll of red cloth, but it took her a moment to realise it was stained with blood. They were yelling Rombel's name, but he wasn't coming to meet them. Instead, the screams were quickly amassing a swarm of villagers.

"He's been murdered! Rombel, he's been murdered!"

Sariel weaseled her way through the elbows and small children for a front-row view of the cause of the commotion. When they laid down the cloth and carefully unwrapped it she gasped. Rombel was in it, white as a fresh sheet with three deep cuts running across his chest and dead as a doornail. Corian was quick to make his way to Sariel's side, pinching his chin as he carefully scanned him over. The villagers gave him some space as he rounded the corpse, leaning in close to take a good whiff of one of the cuts. That one sniff was enough for him to determine the old man's fate. "The beast! I thought I'd smelt it!" Corian stood straight and drew his sword. "The beast has come!"

The village erupted into terrified whispers.

"Worry not! They come at night these creatures, conjured by the black witch! It takes a professional to return them to the shadows!" He sheathed his glinting sword as the villagers went quiet. "Be at ease for now, I shall try to strike this beast down, but it may take another victim... beware."

"The Black Witch?" Sariel spoke, scratching at her head to try and jog her memories up. "I thought you'd said it was a Westlock Witch last night."

Corian cleared his throat and smiled. "She has powers under her control that can string anyone and anything like a puppet. Hundreds of brave heroes have lost their lives to her and the monsters she holds under her grasp. Including other witches." He raised his voice to make sure it carried through the village. "This is the work of the Black Witch!"

Sariel had never heard of either, but she was relieved Corian was here to stop them. Rombel was so kind, and she couldn't bear to watch another villager die. They were low enough on children as it was. "Do you need help, sir?"

He gave her a gentle smile, lightly grasping her hand as she tilted her head in confusion. "No, my dear, I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Sariel stared blankly as he held her waist and lightly pecked her cheek. She wiped her cheek as Corian passed her, catching a few sour glares from a group of younger women who often played Stone the Witch with her. She nodded in understanding at them, it was a rather gross gesture from Corian, if he was to give her anything, she would have preferred it to be food. She turned away to continue her chores, standing awkwardly by her shovel as Corian insisted on continuing her tasks for the remainder of the day.

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Sariel gently lit a torch to light Medila's hut, Corian had wanted to see her bed for some reason but left to slay the beast after grimacing at it. She'd told him multiple times Rombel had given him the best bed, and wasn't sure why he didn't believe her. But now Medila was brushing out her hair. She hadn't let her do a single chore since Corian had left. She just couldn't shake the worry that she'd been replaced by him - and Medila was preparing to sell her to the local lord's serf swarm.

Sariel racked her brain as the panic rose. She had to do something for Medila to prove her worth.

Her eyes drifted around the small space as Medila finished braiding her hair into an uncomfortable knot. There was a glinting object by the door, a sheathed sword.

Corian's sword.

Sariel squinted, trying to imagine how he was planning on slaying the beast. 'Was he going to strangle it? Test his luck with his metal gauntlets?' Neither plan seemed all that smart. She grabbed it, showing it to Medila with a frown. This was her chance. After all, Medila would be sad if her future husband got eaten. "Should I give this to him?"

Medila nodded, chuckling mischievously. "He went off by the river with Morris to find the beast, you make sure it doesn't get you though."

Sariel nodded. "I'll pin it to the ground ma'am, it's probably a bloodwolf."

She left the illuminated halo of light protecting the cabin, squinting through the thick shadows that painted the forest an unsettling and hungry shade of black. The task of clambering through the forest at night was hard enough, and carrying around a clunky broadsword had her tripping over any root that hadn't caught the faint starlight to reveal itself to her. Nonetheless, she kept to her task of finding Corian, her pace slowing as she grew confused.

Rombel wasn't the type to go out at night alone, so why did they find him by the old stump rock? He hadn't been dragged from his hut or Corian would've heard it right away.

She trudged through the dark, thinking up a possible solution to the mysterious death. He could've finally snapped after dealing with his deranged wife and just traipsed into the forest for any nearby bloodwolf to end him. Sariel frowned. That just didn't seem like a Rombel thing to do. She frowned harder, rolling her eyes and dropping the train of thought altogether. None of it made sense, and all that was giving her was a headache.

She finally came upon a weak light in the distance, its flickering essence barely piercing the thick shrubs and trees. She quickly lowered herself, sneaking towards it with a gentle crawl, minimizing the chances of leading the beast to where Corian and Morris were standing.

She quickly closed in on the light, peeking past a small bush to make sure she hadn't snuck up on a group of unsuspecting travelers. However, as her eyes fell upon the figures standing in the torchlight, her breath hitched in terror. The torch was stuck upright in some loose dirt, the dancing flames twinkling on Corian's shining armour. His back was to her as he bent over Morris' corpse, calmly carving it up with a crude blade while whistling a cheery tune.

Sariel held her breath, shakily placing Corian's blade on the grass. If she could gain some distance, she could take some time to think it all through.

She barely took one step back when Corian straightened, turning to face her wide eyes with a yelp. He fumbled the dagger in his hands, tucking it behind his back while holding Sariel's stare. "The beast got him... b-but worry not! For I have slain it!"

She slowly stood up, frozen in terror as he approached her and gently crouched to lift his sword out of the grass.

He smiled at her. Something told her it was meant to be warm, but the way it settled into her bones filled her up with a terrifying chill. He leaned in on her ear with a soft whisper. "Thank you dear, I was lucky that Morris had a blade."

She looked around frantically for signs of the strange beast he'd been talking about, her mind racing to find a conclusion other than what she'd just witnessed. 'Had she just looked at the scene from a weird angle?' She looked over her shoulder for guests, her gaze falling on the bloodied blade in his hand.

"No use looking for it milady, the Black Witch is real tricky. Her beasts are made of shadows and disappear when you kill them."

"But..."

His face dropped to sinister impatience. "What? What did you see, dear? I can assure you, the night plays tricks on the eye."

She walked over to the corpse, slowly grabbing the blade from his hands to stare at it. "You..."

"My lady you're shaken out of your wits! Come back to the village with me, a celebration should soothe your shock." He smiled gently, motioning for her to follow as he turned around and started walking.

She couldn't move her legs at the command, gently lifting the bloodied blade to squint at it as the light Corian carried dimmed with his departure. Did she just look at it the wrong way? Sariel sniffed the air, looking around for paw prints, then staring at the crimson blade again. Beasts like bloodwolves left a scent you could smell from a mile away, and the cuts running through Morris were smooth. They weren't ripped and torn like a hungry animal. They were as smooth as the wounds that had painted Rombel red.

Sariel took in a sharp breath, giving her mind a split second to calm as her thoughts swarmed to a final conclusion. She was sure of what she'd seen. So sure her trembling hands froze, tightening around the hilt of the knife as she locked on to Corian and quickened her pace, easily sinking the blade between his armour and into the soft flesh of his back. Corian tensed up as she backed away with the weapon, stumbling forwards a little as he felt the wet stain on his back and looked at her with terror-struck eyes.

"H-help!" he screamed, falling to the ground as his legs gave out beneath him. "Th-the Black Witch! She's here..." His voice faltered as he coughed up some blood, whimpering like an injured pup as he tried to crawl away. "H-help..." He frantically looked around for a passerby in the dark trees, pushing himself away from Sariel as she took a step towards him. His breaths grew shallow as a cold chill numbed the searing pain in his back, his vision swarming together as the torch he'd dropped dimmed to black, and with a defeated whimper, he went limp.

Sariel was frozen from the shock coursing through her. She didn't know how long it had been, but there were a dozen flickering flames piercing the forest around her, the chatter of her fellow villagers growing louder and louder. But her legs refused to move. They came upon her in a matter of minutes, and all she could do was wait, staring wide-eyed at the villagers as they arrived one by one. The blade eventually slid from her grasp when she stared at Corian's lifeless body, clicking in on her situation. "He..." She shakily pointed at Corian's bloodied corpse.

The villagers erupted into murmurs.

"She's out of her wits!"

"Did she do this?"

"She was holding the blade!"

Finally, Medila's voice rose above the crowd. "Green eyes, she's got green eyes! My god, she's the witch! Put the hero under a spell!"

Sariel looked around helplessly. She barely got a single word out as she backed away in terror. "He..." A stone hurled at her, smacking her head and knocking her to the ground as she clutched the wound in pain. She caught a glimpse of Corian through the shouting crowd, moving to point at him when another rock struck her.

Then another one.

She flinched as Medila hurled a fist-sized stone at her shoulder, scrambling to her feet amidst the feral cries while the torch-wielding villagers converged on her.