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Cody had heard the tales before. Many times.
Tales of the witch that lived in the woods. A witch that had dark powers.
He'd heard such tales since he was just a small boy, but he'd never believed them.
Animals go missing, some whispered. And the witch forces the plants to grow so thick, in the deep forest, that you can't even see the sun.
It's because they're made of evil and darkness, whispered others. They are demons from the dregs of hell. They die in the sunlight.
Some villagers say they stole lost children and kept them, others claimed they killed orphans in their ritual sacrifices to their dark, devil gods.
Most of the children in the surrounding towns were warned to stay away from the darkest part of the woods, lest they be taken and never come back.
But one village woman – who was old and wrinkled and shrunken down by long years and hard work – always frowned and shook her head when she heard these rumors.
It was one fine autumn day when Cody was fifteen, that he heard advice from her that he would never forget. The old woman was setting up her stall of garden vegetables next to Cody and his family's stall in the village market. Not long after they'd set up, two troublesome boys, who were a couple years younger than Cody was, had passed by. They were talking brashly about going to the darkest part of the woods and searching for the witch.
“Ignorant boys, you are, bothering powers you should not. Understand you do not. Only pain and suffering will you bring yourselves,” She snapped at them, glaring from beneath her wrinkles and over-sized olive-green hat.
“And you're just crazy old Yaddle,” one of the boys snarked back. “Keep your weird mumblings to yourself, you old hag.”
Yaddle just shook her head, muttering under her breath.
“What do you mean powers?” Cody asked in a quiet voice, after the ruffians had left.
“Power over this land, has the witch line that lives in those woods,” she said in low tones, her voice wobbling from age. “Guardians, they are. Abilities over life and death they have. Anger them, the people here should not. Only goodwill to us, do they have. Keep it that way, we should. Respect we should have. Be here they will, long after we are gone.”
Cody thought deeply over her words for many years afterwards. Even after Old Yaddle had passed and her body had been buried and allowed to return to the land.
When Cody was twenty-three, tragedy befell his family and his village.
His young brother Echo and a few other young children were captured by a group of raiders from the North, who had been scourging and pillaging surrounding farmland for the past year.
A few weeks later, the King's Army came through town, asking for volunteers to help them fight the raiders.
Cody wasn't a violent man. But he was well trained by his father. He had learned to protect himself, their farmland and their livestock from scavenging thieves and devious predators. And he knew it would take violence to save his brother.
Cody didn't want to wait around for the King's Army to save his brother without him. So when the call for volunteers came, he eagerly put down his name.
For two weeks the King’s Army trained him to wield a broadsword, rather than the short sword he'd carried his whole life. The King's Army trained him to wear armor and to throw javelins, all while riding a horse.
He quickly became the best new recruit in all of the surrounding area, and was even promoted to Captain of his own company within the first two weeks.
So when the message came from the King's Spy network that the raiders had come back into the land, Cody was ready.
The battle was fierce and bloody. Many soldiers died, many raiders died, and many miles were crossed as the Army chased the raiders back to their homelands North.
The North was a strange place. The lush foliage of his homeland faded away, colors became more muted, plants grew smaller, and predators grew hungrier and larger.
The Army's campaign against the Northern Raiders was successful. They drove the band back to their sod-made homes and primitive town and way of life.
When General Skywalker – the General over Cody's regiment – ordered them to slaughter every last raider, Cody obeyed without reluctance. It was only as he raised his own sword to the children of the village that he gave pause. It was like he could see himself from their frightened eyes, a tall metal-covered being, splattered in blood and gore, not even his eyes visible to give him humanity. He must look like some terrifying monster of their nightmares.
In that pause, another infantry from Cody's unit came by and sliced off the children's heads. Cody could only watch as the heads rolled down to his feet, the children's expressions locked forever in silent screams.
The one highlight of the bloody campaign was that a raider – begging for his life – told them where the others had hidden the captured children.
Cody would never forget the stink of piss and bodily fluids when they finally came upon the cave the children had been left to die in. Tied up, bound and beaten.
Echo was alive. But sick and much changed from the happy eleven-year-old he'd been when he was taken two months ago.
He'd been hesitant to ride back with Cody, even as sunk in fever as he was from the wounds on his legs.
The week-long journey back south felt much longer than the journey up had been. But Cody had trudged on, taking care of his steadily sickening brother as best he could.
By the time the Army made it back to his town, Echo had been taken unconscious by the infectious fever for two days.
Their mother cried when she saw Echo's state, and even their life-weary father was struck to silent morose staring and praying. Even Cody's other brothers: Rex, Wooley, Fives and Boba were quiet with a preemptive mourning.
All of them seemed resigned to wait for the end.
Cody had done his best to find his brother. And he would be damned if he just waited around for the boy to die.
In the early hours of the next morning, he came into the sick room to check on his brother. He found the boy’s skin more waxy and pale than the night before. Echo's hands and surviving foot were ice cold and seemed almost bloodless.
There was little time to lose; Cody knew he needed to act.
With only one look back at his brother, he left their farm and headed into the woods.
Finding the darkest part of the woods was much harder in the predawn light. He was ashamed to admit he stumbled around longer than he'd needed to.
But finally the sun rose in the sky and Cody was able to find his way.
The first sign that Cody was in the right place was the strange stillness in the air. There was an eerie feeling of being watched, as he crossed into the densest area of foliage. There were no sounds of birds chirping merrily or squirrels chattering as they scavenged.
The area was quiet except for Cody's own breaths.
Squeezing in through a small gap between two giant, ancient oaks, Cody suddenly found himself in a small clearing. A small cabin stood at its center, facing away from him towards a tiny babbling brook.
A man stood beside the brook. He had shoulder-length, golden-red hair that shone in the bright, early morning sun.
Cody couldn't make out the man's eye color from this far away, but he could tell the man was staring intently, right at Cody.
As he neared, he took in the man's long brown cloak, the material looked rich and finely woven.
“I've been expecting you,” the man said in a rich, rounded accent so different from Cody's own.
“You have?” Cody asked, hesitantly.
“I felt you stumbling through my woods hours ago. Your intent was clear and powerful: you seek me. I can feel all beings who come into my woods.” The man, or rather, the witch smiled at him from beneath a neatly trimmed beard.
Cody was close enough now to make out the color of his eyes, and had to stop himself from gasping. They were a bright, swirling blue-grey, and were such a color that Cody had never seen before. People in the village had either brown or green eyes, so the vibrant color stunned him.
“Why do you seek me?” The man tilted his head oddly.
“Can you not tell?” Cody asked, curious.
The man shook his head, “It doesn't work like that. I can feel the power of someone's intent. I can feel when someone seeks me, through maliciousness, benevolence, or want. I could see what you're thinking if we were connected. But I cannot tell what you want when we’ve just met.”
“I've heard tales,” Cody started.
“Yes,” the man chuckled, almost to himself. “There are always tales about me, about my kind.”
“So you are not the only one?”
The witch just smiled.
“I've heard,” Cody continued, a bit unnerved, “that you have power over life and death. That you have the power to stop death and create life.”
“I do.” The witch answered plainly.
“I need your help, please. My brother, he's sick; dying. Can you stop it? Will you give him a chance to live?” Cody pleaded desperately.
The man reached up and stroked his fingers over the front of his beard. “There is always a price with me. Why come to me and not a healer, or a physician?”
“He is beyond their help,” Cody said honestly. The battalion doctor had been able to do nothing for Echo when they'd found him, other than treat his wounds superficially.
“The blood infection has spread too far,” the man had answered him sorrowfully that horrible day. “There is little we can do but make him comfortable and hope his body can fight off the infection itself.” In that moment, it had felt like Cody had lost his brother twice over. He’d been so afraid Echo might not even make it home.
“I see,” the witch said sadly. “Well then, there may be something. But it might cost you more than you can bear.”
“I will do anything,” Cody said desperately, falling to his knees.
The witch looked down at him with pity. “You may decide otherwise once you know the trade. Come, it will take time to prepare. While I do, you can decide.” The witch gestured towards the well-built, but small cabin.
The inside was everything Cody had expected, and nothing like he'd feared. It would have looked like a normal home inside except for the unusual dried herbs, growing plant cuttings and jars of unknown substances decorating the long shelves built into the walls.
Numbers and words in other languages were written in empty spots along the walls in what looked like chalk and charcoal. A large circle was drawn in the middle of the cleared floor, runes and symbols written along its edges. The circle was big enough for a grown man to lie down and stretch out comfortably inside it.
The witch walked over to a well-built stove in the corner – it sat next to a long table covered in bowls and implements – the witch stoked the burning embers inside, feeding it more firewood until heat began to curl out from the stove and fill the cool air of the room.
Cody stood awkwardly just inside the door, not sure where to move. If he stepped forward, he'd be inside the circle.
The other man pulled a few clay pots off a shelf, as well as a small glass jar and a few sprigs from various dried plants. Then, the witch turned and stared at him for a moment.
In the dim, smoky light of the cabin, Cody couldn't see those dynamic, light-colored eyes anymore. The shadows on his face made him seem much more... powerful than the witch had seemed out in the open. There was definitely something other about him.
“I will not go and heal your brother,” the witch finally spoke.
Cody began to protest, but the witch cut him off.
“But I can give you the power to heal him. This would be a one-time only kind of deal. If you accept, you will have to face the Force backlash of the spell.”
“What force?” Cody asked.
“I speak of the Force that resides in all living beings. It surrounds us, penetrates us and binds the world together. Without it, life would cease to exist. It is what gives me my power.
“Part of how the Force works is through balance,” the witch continued to explain. “If you take from the Force, you must also give. If there is life, there must also be death of some sort.”
“Balance,” Cody said skeptically.
The witch nodded. “Yes, balance. So in this case, you might be able to save the life of your loved one with the power of the Force, but as a result, you might lose something else you love. I can't really tell what the balance will be at this point. You could lose someone else you love, or something important in your life. You may even lose your own life. Are you prepared to give so much in exchange for your brother's life? A life that by all accounts should end as it is meant to at this time.”
Cody looked down at his hands. “He's my brother,” Cody whispered. “And he's just a kid. He deserves a chance at life. It's not fair for him to die like this,” Cody looked back up at the witch.
“Life is not fair, which I think you know.” The witch stepped closer, his gaze boring through the shadows. “I look in your eyes and I see that you know that. But even though events of this life may not feel just, may not be balanced, the Force always is. Everything in balance, everything must be just. The Force is so just, it may feel almost cruel at times.
“So are you prepared,” the witch continued, “To let the Force find balance through you. Are you ready to lose as much as you could gain?”
Cody licked his lips, his tongue dry, but his lips drier. Could he really answer anything different? “Yes. I am ready.” Echo deserved a chance to live. If it took his life, his limbs, his heart, Cody would bear it for his brother.
The witch nodded. “Alright. Sit in the middle of the circle,” he gestured with his bearded chin. “Take off your shirt and boots. Get comfortable, this will take a little while.”
The witch turned back to the table, bringing out a long dark, stone dish and a cylindrical stone tool that he used to roll and pound the ingredients he'd brought out, together.
A soft hum filled the air as the witch worked. Cody realized the sound was coming from the witch, who was humming an unrecognizable tune quietly to himself. It was beautiful and it buzzed through the air in a way that felt powerful.
Cody sat down and watched the other man prepare a strange green paste on the stone. Then once the witch seemed satisfied with that, he turned, holding a long, uneven piece of pale limestone in his hands. The witch stepped up to the circle, bent and began to erase symbols around its edge with the bottom of his robe. Once they were gone, the witch used the rock to write new ones and Cody realized it was some form of chalk. He'd never seen chalk in such a raw and jagged form before, but it seemed to work well enough for the witch.
It was late spring, and Cody had thought he'd be cold without his shirt and boots – sitting on the floor of the witch's house – but the stove seemed to pump out a lot of heat. And sitting exposed like he was, was shockingly comfortable.
Finally the witch finished drawing and went back to the paste on the table, picking up the heavy dish and bringing it over.
“Lie down with your head facing sunrise and your feet facing sunset,” the witch gestured with an elbow and then knelt beside the circle, setting the dish down.
With chalky fingers, the witch collected the paste and smeared vertically down Cody's forehead from hairline to nose bridge, on his jaw from the bottom of his nose to the tip of his chin, on his lower abdomen from his trouser line to his navel, on the middle of his left palm and then he leaned over Cody to do the same to his right palm.
The other man's cloak brushed along Cody's nose as he moved. He smelled like tea and chalk and fresh air and Cody couldn't help but close his eyes and enjoy the witch's scent.
The witch moved back, hunting through his robe for something. The mixture of paste and chalk on Cody's lips made them itchy and he had to fight with himself not to flick out his tongue and lick the paste away.
At last the witch pulled out a very old looking dagger – dull and metallic – except for its edges which were shiny, sharp and pointed.
Cody's eyes widened. He had placed a lot of trust in this man, and if he were to kill Cody now, Cody would feel like the ultimate fool. Maybe the villagers were right, maybe all witches did were kill and hurt and plague his people.
But the other man simply brought the knife to his own left arm and made a lateral slice, not too deep, just far enough to spill blood.
The witch leaned back over Cody, tracing dripping blood over each place where the paste had been drawn.
Cody flinched when the man dripped blood over his lips. His mouth parted slightly in shock and he got a bitter taste of the paste, chalk and blood on the tip of his tongue.
At last the witch stood back, away from the circle. Cody had been anointed with both blood and paste on central spots of his body and both hands. The patterns felt very... balanced.
Cody opened his mouth further to ask what was next, but before he could, the witch murmured something quietly and clapped his hands together, smearing blood along his own cloak.
A low boom echoed through the air, sounding almost like thunder and Cody blinked as his view of the world slowly changed.
Shadows darkened, the light shining through the cracks of the curtain around the window brightened. The fire seemed hotter and the witches eyes glowed through the dimness of the room.
“Go,” the witch said.
No, not witch, his name was Obi-Wan. Cody didn't know how he knew, but he did.
“The power of my blood will not last more than three hours. In that time you must heal your loved one. However, beware the balance in the Force and what it will bring.” Obi-Wan's blue-grey swirling eyes drooped in sorrow. “Until you heal your brother, you still have time to change your mind. If you do, do nothing and the spell will break with time, of its own accord.”
“I understand,” Cody rasped, the air in his lungs felt potent and strong and thick. He licked his lips, the taste of blood, the vegetal paste and chalk coating his tongue.
“Good luck,” Obi-Wan said sadly and turned away.
Cody found his way back home much easier than he had found his way to Obi-Wan's.
The air of the forest felt powerful and raw. It almost made him not want to leave the warmth of its whispering embrace, but a deep tug from inside his navel seemed to guide him back towards his family. It was like his whole body wanted to be near them.
The sick room door was closed when he arrived. His family was still asleep. His mother and Rex were sleeping propped up in chairs near Echo's side, while his father and other brothers had been asleep in various spots around the main room.
Finding Obi-Wan and participating in the ritual had felt like it had taken hours, and yet here was his family, all still asleep as if he'd barely been gone.
As he approached Echo, it was as if he could see his brother's glowing life force slowly draining away. The bright spirit beneath his skin was wane and slowly fading.
Cody stood next to his brother, gently picking up both of the boy's cold hands.
Cody knew he still had time to change his mind, he knew he didn't have to go through with this. But nothing in Cody had ever been cowardly. He was ready to save his brother and face whatever consequences came his way.
He tightened his fingers around the limp hands, pushing that seeping life force back inside the boy’s body. He added to it with his own in a way he didn't understand. None of what was happening made sense to him. But his actions felt instinctual, like he was commanding Echo’s life by just his will alone.
By the time Cody felt close to finished, Echo’s life force seemed almost blindingly bright to Cody's eyes. He watched the color and light infuse back into his brother's skin. And slowly, almost hesitantly, his brother began to stir.
Finally the transaction felt complete, Echo's skin and face looked as hale and healthy as he had the day he'd been taken. New life seemed to surge through the boy's body and his eyelashes began to flutter as he awoke.
Tenderly, Cody lowered the small hands back to the bed, watching as Echo's deep brown eyes flickered open.
“Echo,” Cody whispered, “how do you feel?”
Echo's chest shuddered and his mouth slowly opened in fear. “Please,” he gasped quietly. “Please don't hurt me.”
“I'm not going to—” Cody frowned down at his brother.
And then a piercing, terrified scream exploded from Echo's mouth.
Rex and their mother jolted awake.
“My baby!” His mother shrieked and jumped up, ready to protect Echo with nothing but her bare hands. “Don't touch him, you Monster!”
“Mum, it's me,” Cody said frantically, bringing his empty hands up in defense.
His mother's eyes glowed out at him in angry, fierce righteousness.
A short sword swung at him from behind, and Cody dodged away quickly.
Rex was holding his sword out between them, his face twisted in anger and disgust.
“Rex, it's Cody! Stop!”
“Get back, you foul creature!” Rex shouted at him, stepping forward and winding up for another swing.
Cody bolted out of the sick room and into the main room of their home.
“Dad!” Cody called out, “Rex and Mum have lost their minds!”
His father leapt up from where he'd been waking in his favorite chair. “Vile demon!” Jango shouted, struggling to unsheathe his own short sword.
His other brothers, in various states of waking up, all cowered from his visage in fear.
Cody looked down at his hands, but they still looked the same. The paste and blood on his palms had been smeared slightly, but they still looked like his hands.
What was happening?
The sound of a step behind him had Cody turning to look over his left shoulder just in time to see the blade of a short sword come down on his face.
Pain radiated out of his temple and eye, blood pouring out of the new wound and into his left eye as he fell back to the ground.
The shock of the injury had him frozen, prone on the floor of their home.
It was only the sight of another swinging sword and the adrenaline of the situation that had him roll away quickly enough to dodge the next hit and then crawl over to the still open front door.
He was able to get to his feet in the yard, and ran waveringly down the path to the gate.
He only looked back when he reached the road to see his family angrily gathered in the yard, weapons raised in warning. Echo even stood with their mother, clutched in her arms. It was shocking to already see the boy strong enough to stand, when he'd been so close to death an hour ago.
Cody stared out at his family with only his right eye. The other closed shut to protect it from the dripping blood of his wound.
What was happening?
He knew in his heart that this was the balance Obi-Wan had been talking about. He knew he’d agreed to it by continuing with the spell, but he hadn't been prepared for this.
He still stared at his family, who were beginning to make their way towards him, shouting angry slurs and brandishing their weapons.
All Cody could think was that this was too much.
All that he had been, had been taken.
Somehow he made it away from his family and back through the woods to the little clearing.
He didn't know where else to go. He didn't know what else to do.
His sight was wavering in and out. He’d had to stop many times to lean against a tree or rock, lest he let himself fall to the ground from dizziness and blood loss.
But finally he made it to the clearing.
Obi-Wan was kneeling next to the creek, washing out some linens in the flowing water. He turned towards Cody and moved to meet him.
“Oh dear, I'm surprised you're even standing,” Obi-Wan said neutrally, steadying Cody as he plopped onto his knees on the grass. “Let's see if I can help, Mr... I confess, I don't even know your name.”
“My name is Cody,” Cody gasped, the enormity of the situation finally hitting him. “Just Cody. I don’t think I even have a family name now.”
“Cody,” Obi-Wan said warmly, looping his hands beneath Cody's armpits and hauling him up with hidden strength. “Let's tend to your wounds.”
“I don't think anything will ever be able to heal this,” Cody said wetly, his throat thick with emotion. He wasn't referring to the head wound. But a part of him wondered if his left eye could even be saved.
“I understand,” Obi-Wan said empathetically. “Let's get you inside.”
Cody sobbed as the witch led him in.