Chapter Text
The silence, much like the fog that drifted in so soon after The Destruction, was unending.
Unsettling.
Isolated from the rest of the world beyond the woods, what little that now remained of the tiny wooded kingdom lay demolished and in ruin. It’s rulers disappeared, and subjects having bore the brunt of a crucial misunderstanding. Where lush, vibrant vegetation once knew no end, lifeless bodies now lay strewn about upon numbing snow. A frosty wind whistled through the area, the only noise for miles now that the once joyful mirth that ran rampant throughout the kingdom had fallen mute. Some of the villagers even ended up frozen in place, cursed by arcane, unmelting ice. Arms outstretched, shielding themselves from the killing cold. Like the aftermath of a war zone.
And maybe it was; nobody knew for sure, why things had turned out this way. The only clue anyone had before things went horribly wrong was a distinct shift in atmosphere. A crisp, breezy day in early January visited by a chilly drop in temperature.
That was their forewarning. The next time something major occurred, several weeks later, a cruel, bitter winter spread over the land. Hostile. And with it’s icy frigidity as the townspeople’s only greeting, the abundant vitality and merriment of the small province was snuffed out in a matter of minutes.
.......
In less than half an hour, silence overcame all.
Not too much longer after that, the second stage of this cursed winter began to take effect all over the place.
From frozen bodies, writhing, wriggling souls burst forth. Some red, blue, others green, many spirits begin popping up to start in on their afterlives. And they were greeted by none other than the first one to arrive — a mysterious, ominous being that came from somewhere else in their time of need. To give the resurrected purpose, new beginnings, and a place to call home after the devastation.
This being that would come to be known as the forest’s resident evil spirit.
“Oh, would you LOOK at that,” a faux-concerned tone slipped forth, as the recently unelected king of the newly-christened Subcon Forest took in his soon-to-be subjects. “You know, I REALLY can’t have a bunch of unproductive, good-for-nothing wormy things floating around here NOT doing anything— and that now brings me to this question. What the HELL am I supposed to do with you....?“
The ghost examined his quivering, silent dwellers with narrowed gaze - surely he could find a way to make them useful! His new followers would need to be able to do things beyond their newfound limitations, if they wanted to exceed their king’s expectations.
What made it tricky was their lack of limbs. He didn’t know what kind of spirits these were, so he had to stop and really think about this! They were small and noodle-esque; like him, they hovered in the air silently. It wasn’t as though they could just re-grow the human appendages they had in life!
Wait a minute.....
The specter paused for a brief moment. Gold eyes roving over the pathetic batch of subjects given to him in such a time. Limbless wraiths owning nothing but animal masks with chipped paint to betray any sort of personality— could he provide them with the tools they needed to begin anew? Quite possibly. He did not yet know the capacity of his own new abilities, nor the limitations. He would need to test a few things out here. But in the meantime....
“Look, at the VERY least I can ensure that you have a place to stay alongside me. I can be there WITH you to resolve any damages that the Ice Princess caused our land and yourselves. You only JUST materialized out of…” Nonchalant, a hand waved in the direction of the empty husks – their husks – spread around the area. “Er, out of your mortal states, correct?”
The dwellers could only look around at the carnage that had yet to be cleared away. It was only five seconds later that he realized his error in asking that question. In hindsight, the bigger ghost knew it probably wasn’t the most conscientious way to draw attention to their current situation, let alone convince the smaller spirits to join him. However, there was little he himself could do to rectify it.
This phantom knew more than anyone there the truly terrifying extent that this winter had affected everyone, and everything around them.
So, a different approach would probably be best. In an ironic echo of one of his last living thoughts before, well, before this, the tall ghost flicked his ectoplasmic wrist. As he’d imagined and silently asked for, the all-too-familiar, yellowed paper rolled out of his thoughts and into existence. A feather quill was soon to follow, floating idly next to the otherworldly contract.
“Sign your afterlives away, and I’ll begin preparations for our little tabula rasa. Starting with upgrading you - you’ll be my right-hand-minions, of course! The spirits that suffer together retake the forest together, AM I RIGHT?! And don’t even THINK about trying to hustle me with this— you can’t just get something for nothing, you know!”
Booming laughter, the first of many more to come, filled the silence. And with this new development, his newfound happiness, blue flames flared to life behind the specter’s form. Writhing and dancing, they cocooned him in their light, but did not burn. The apparent presence of pyrokinesis with this new form puzzled the spirit at first, but the irony struck him when he took his own circumstances into consideration. The typical counterpart to ice was fire. It seemed only fitting in this way that Vanessa’s stinging ice was appropriately combated with azure, eldritch flames.
Without much of a choice, and with their inner yearning for a fresh start after The Destruction taking control, dwellers gathered ‘round to sign up for a chance to reclaim a sense of order after a traumatic event. Some elected to remain as they were, worm-like and voiceless. But much to the spirit’s growing pleasure, they didn’t seem too keen on leaving the forest, either. Perhaps it meant that they still hoped to remain somewhere they could feel safe. And that, even if they DIDN’T sign the contract, gave him a sense of power.
They remained. The first members of his arsenal, congregating in the space to come together as a united front. The first pieces of what he privately called “Era Two” were beginning to fall into place.
The ghost - now more commonly known as the Snatcher - smiled.
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