Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a world, far from our own, the gods still roam the earth. Though they live off the offerings and prayers given to them by humans, they turn their eye to their suffering. For you see, the gods had grown lazy and complacent, ignorant to the plight of others.

‘Humans are of no importance,’ one arrogant god stated, 'Why should we waste our time on their petty problems?’

No one had an answer. And that was their downfall. The humans were growing irritated, both with the gods and each other. Every day, more and more humans were succumbing to war. Greed and anger spread like disease; the humans stopped their worshipping. What was the point if no one answered their prayers? Slowly, the power of the gods faded. It went unnoticed at first, until the first change happened.

Destiny, the one who knew all that happened and all that would happen, changed shape. Instead of the hooded figure, forever chained to his book, sat a creature, a creature unlike anything ever seen before. His book and chain fell to the ground, echoing throughout the world. As if protesting the sudden power vacuum, the world raged. Storms decimated villages, diseases wiped out families and famine ruined crops.

What once was Destiny watched the carnage, disinterested. It no longer mattered to him. He was gone, but he was not the last.

Other gods left, seeking refuge amongst the humans who once worshipped them. Their plan failed, for the worshippers had become clouded with hate, fuelled by anger, they attacked the gods. The battle was long and bloody, forcing the gods to retreat. They retreated into the forest, hiding, and secluding themselves from a world that rebelled against them. They still reside there to this day, but time has not been kind. For though they are still gods, their powers have waned and many more have changed shape. Terrible shapes. Humans will no longer venture into the forests, not because of the gods there, no, it is because of the demons.

The sun was shining down, warming all who it embraced. Perched on a mountain top, protected from the world around them, sat a village. Though it was tiny and secluded, its people were sturdy. Generations ago, when the great war started, they fought tooth and nail for peace, and their prize was peace. Peace from war, raiders and a king that sought to wipe them out. The little mountain village was going about its day, finishing chores, harvesting crops. But all was not well. Something was in the air, the buzz of anticipation. Circling the village on his red elk, was the prince of the village, Hob. Broad shouldered and strong, with skin kissed by the sun, he was well educated in the matter of protecting his village. Leader and protector, he was a skilled archer and loyal to his people, ready to lend a helping hand or helpful ear. Prince Hob was known for his easy-going smile, the smile hat lit up his soulful brown eyes. It was nowhere to be found now. His face was set in a deep frown, concern obvious in his eyes. He could also sense it. The strange buzz in the air. It was like electricity flowing through him. Scanning the horizon, he saw something in the distance, amongst the trees that acted as a barrier. Hob narrowed his eyes, there was definitely something there. Shifting in the darkness. Quickly, tying his long brown hair into a bun, he clicked his tongue.

‘Come on, Yakul,’

His red elk heard him and he hurried along the dirt road. As they got closer, he recognised his little sister, Roberta, and her friends, they waved him down,

‘Hob! Quick!’

Spurred on by his sister’s insistence, he stopped alongside them, the girls, thought they tried to hide it, were unnerved by something.

‘There’s something in the forest!’ Roberta pointed behind them, all was still but he didn’t doubt her words.

‘I know, the wise woman wants everyone back to the village,’ he gestured over his shoulder, it had been his job to escort everyone back to the village.

‘Something is wrong,’ the other girl, Maya, added, ‘You can feel it, can’t you?’ she shivered, ‘It feels wrong, and all the birds are gone.’

Hob paused, she was right, the birds had stopped singing, in fact, he couldn’t remember seeing any all day.

‘I’ll check with Billy, see if he’s seen anything,’ he looked directly at his sister,

‘Get you and your friends back safely,’

His sister nodded, her own brown eyes resolute. He made sure they were out of the way before moving himself. He led Yakul to the watchtower, the familiar shape of the old man sat at the top. Hob dismounted before Yakul stopped, patting him in thanks. He climbed the watchtower, his weight sending creaks up the old wood, then, he stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He glanced down, staring deep into the forest. His mother, before she died, had often warned him not to stare into the trees. She always said he’d attract the attention of something unsavoury. As he strained his eyes now, he didn’t doubt his late mother’s words. Though nothing moved, something was there.

Staring back at him.

Gritting his teeth, he looked away. He reached the top and found Billy, his gaze fixed at the dark forest, though time had ravaged the soldier’s body, he still had the sharpest eyesight of entire village. Hob already knew the answer but he had to ask anyway,

‘You saw it, Billy, didn’t you?’

The old man nodded, idly stroking his long, white beard,

‘I did. It isn’t human.’

Hob nodded; he figured as much but hearing it confirmed made a chill go up his spine. He shook it off, his priority had to be the safety of his people.

‘The wise woman wants everyone back at the village,’ he held out his hand to the man, ‘Come on, I’ll help you down,’

‘Wait,’ Billy didn’t look at him, leaning over the wood. His whole body was hanging over the railing, Hob, scared of the old man falling, held onto his shirt,

‘There!’

Hob looked, just in time to see something, something he couldn’t describe. It was as if the darkness itself had taken form. Writhing shadows peeked out of the treeline, like a spreading stain. Hob could feel the malice from his high spot.

‘It’s some kind of demon,’ Billy spat, Hob blinked,

‘A demon? You’re sure?’

As in answer, something crashed through the forest, uprooting the trees, and roaring loud enough for the whole mountain to hear. Billy gasped beside him; Hob couldn’t take his eyes off the creature. It was massive, that much he could tell, with rust coloured skin, that continuously rippled. The sight made him sick.

Shaking off his stupor, he called down to his steed,

‘Run, Yakul! Run!’

The red elk didn’t listen, from where Hob stood, he could see the poor animal trembling. He couldn’t blame him, the monster charged towards him.

‘Yakul!’ he tried again, nothing, seeing no other option, he readied an arrow and shot it down, aiming for the wood beside Yakul’s head. The arrow embedded itself in the wood, startling Yakul out of his trance, he ran off, just as the monster reached the watchtower. Finding itself robbed of its meal, it spun in a slow circle, searching, sniffing at the air. This close, Hob got a closer look at the monster, its skin didn’t just ripple, it wriggled. It was as if the monster was made up of writhing, blood red worms. The worms stretched out, moving separately from the monster’s body, wrapped itself around the watchtower and pushed.

It tilted, creaking loudly as the wood gave way, the ground quickly came up to meet the men.

‘Hang on,’ Hob grabbed the old man and jumped, Billy cried out but Hob knew how to make his landing safe. He aimed his body for the brush, the amount of foliage there would be plenty to break their fall. Hob made sure to cushion Billy’s fall, even so, he wheezed as he sat up. Hob followed, trying to hide how winded he was. Another growl made him look up, the monster was just a tiny dot now, charging again. Panic surged through Hob.

‘It’s headed for the village!’ he exclaimed, he whistled for Yakul, and the pair chased after the monster,

‘Young Prince, wait! Be careful!’ Billy called after him, Hob didn’t turn around, even at the next thing he shouted,

‘That thing is cursed! Don’t touch it!’

Hob didn’t care, he’d tear the demon apart with his own hands if needed. He couldn’t risk any of his people getting hurt. He kept his eyes on the beast, urging Yakul to speed up. Its hulking mass shook the ground, he briefly wondered how Yakul didn’t trip. Hob came up to its side, keeping his distance from the red tendrils, still close enough to shout at it,

‘Please! Whatever you might be, god or demon, please! Calm your fury!’

The beast didn’t listen, it didn’t even slow. Hob tried again, he didn’t shoot yet, he couldn’t risk making it angrier. But then, something caught his eye, in the distance, he saw three small figures, his sister and her friends. The demon was charging towards them.

Panicking, Hob tried again, ‘Please, I beg you! Leave our village alone!’

Hob saw one of the girls fall, he begged her to get up,

‘Keep running please!’ he called out to him, she didn’t. She couldn’t get up, even when his sister tried helping.

‘Pick her up! Carry her back!’

Whether his words were lost on the wind, or his sister wanted to prove herself, he didn’t know. He watched as Roberta stood in front of her friends, her stance firm, like he taught her, and she pulled out her knife, staring at the beast head on. Eyes filled with determination.

‘No!’ Hob cried, he fired an arrow, aiming right where he thought the beast’s heart would be. It sunk into the writhing mass, like a toothpick in cotton, but the creature slowed, Hob cut it off, putting himself between it and the girls. He shouted over his shoulder,

‘Go! Get the wise woman!’

Fortunately, his sister listened, with the other girl, they were able to carry the injured girl back.

Hob’s arm suddenly felt strange. Something hot wrapped him, squeezing hard. Needles of fire stabbed his skin. He looked down, blood red tendrils wrapped around his arm, writhing and bubbling. Hob gritted his teeth, he couldn’t falter now, he had to protect the village. He readied another arrow; each movement sent another wave of pain through his arm. He fired, the arrow struck the demon in the head, disappearing into the writhing mass. The creature halted, it reared up on its back legs and roared. A mighty roar filled with anger and pain; it brought a tear to Hob’s eye. He had to put it out of his misery.

The tendrils around his arm writhed in time with the beast’s cries, trying to stop him. He tried not to look, feeling sick. The worms that made up the beast rippled like water, then receded, revealing parts of the poor creature within. It wasn’t a demon, not originally, a shiny beak emerged, that of a bird, and an emotionless, black eye, directed at him.

It was a raven god. Tainted by something evil. Its wings eaten away by the blood red curse, its feathers mottled and rotted.

Seeing an opening Hob fired another arrow, it hit the raven right in the eye, with another weak cry, it faltered, the worms shuddering like a dying breath. The raven fell, the ground trembled with shock. The worms reached out, towards him, trying to find another host no doubt. It aimed for Hob, moving too fast for him to move. He brought up his arms, a futile attempt to protect himself.

Nothing happened. He risked a glance, the bundle of worms paused in front of his face, no, not his face, his infected arm. The worms on his arm reached out, trying to re-join, but with the death of the god, it faltered. Their colour shifted, all the vibrant red wasted away, until it turned into bubbling tar. It spilled to the ground, lifeless. Once he was sure the battle was over, his adrenaline finally left him, replaced with dizzying exhaustion. He could no longer ignore the pain in his arm. Hob looked down, and gasped.

His sleeve was in tatters, eaten away by whatever those things were, and his skin, the spot where the worms grabbed him was inflamed. His forearm was bright red and itchy. His fingertips grazed the warm skin, the minor contact made him shudder. He hunched over, hiding his sounds of pain, but of course, his sister heard.

‘Hob!’ she came to his side, helping him down from Yakul, she reached out, as if to take his arm, but Hob stopped her,

‘Don’t!’

Even that small movement had his knees trembling, he fell to the soft earth, clutching his hurt arm,

‘It touched me,’ he told his sister, she came to his side, worry evident on her face. Being the older brother, he searched within for any energy left to reassure her,

‘Don’t worry,’ he even managed to plaster on his smile, ‘I’m sure the wise woman will have answers.’

She didn’t look fully convinced, thankfully, she kept silent, ripping up handfuls of dirt and pressing it to his bad arm. Hob sighed, the cold earth offering only minor relief. Footsteps came up behind him, followed by more,

‘The prince has been hurt!’ it was Billy, unharmed, his own face mirroring his Roberta’s, other members of the village reached them, men, women, children, all enquiring what happened. Hob kept his head down, focusing instead on his sister’s hand, trying desperately to soothe his pain. A memory suddenly came to him, unbidden. The pair of them, in their youth, when Roberta fell from a tree, slicing her leg, any other child would have broken into hysterics. Not his sister though. She simply looked at the wound, blinking fast, and controlling her breathing, before turning her head towards Hob, asking, ever so politely, to carry her home. Hob huffed out an amused laugh, gladly carrying her and calling her brave all the way home.

A shout brought him out of his reverie,

‘Where is the wise woman?!’ Billy again, he looked over the crowd and waved to somebody,

‘Lucienne!’

The crowd turned; a young woman rushed towards them. Wearing red robes, the sacred colour of their village,

‘Everybody back!’ she called out, the crowd followed her words, their respect for the woman apparent as they bowed when she passed. She stopped in front of Hob, not even out of breath, and crouched down, fixing her gold rimmed glasses, she frowned as she inspected his wound.

‘What do we do?’ Roberta asked, Lucienne turned to her, offering a quick, gentle smile,

‘Take this,’ she pulled out a waterskin, ‘Pour it over his wound, slowly,’

She nodded and did as she told. Hob wordlessly held up his arm, cringing when the water made contact. His skin sizzled. After Lucienne made sure Hob was taken care of, she straightened up, and made her way to the demon, still motionless. A guard warned her to stay back, Lucienne waved him off. She stood in front of the giant raven, bowing her head in respect. The air was tainted with a foul stench like rot and old meat, Lucienne kept her face neutral.

‘O nameless god of rage and hate,’ Lucienne started, her voice, strong and steady,

‘I bow before you.’ she raised her hands, palms out,

‘A mound will be raised and funeral rites performed on this ground where you have fallen.’ She glanced up, looking into the raven god’s open eye,

‘Please, pass on in peace and bear us no hatred.’

The village people listened, her words sending shivers up those who listened, it wasn’t just a question, it was a prayer. A prayer to a dying god. No doubt something it hadn’t received in generations. All they could do was wait and hope it would answer.

The raven god didn’t even blink, its beak twitched, opening the tiniest bit, then, a new voice, a woman’s voice. Just like the raven’s scream, it was filled with pain and anger.

‘Disgusting little creatures…soon all of you will feel my hate...’ as the god spoke, her words grew fainter, her beak shrinking with every passing second,                  

‘And you will suffer as I have suffered…’

And with that, she was gone. Her entire body rotting away, a year of decomposition happening within a few seconds. All that was left were bloodstained bones, sticking out of the ground like roots. The sludge that was once the god spread out in a puddle under the body, staining the ground black, like it had been burnt.

Like Hob’s arm.

The heavy silence that followed pressed down on them, like an executioner’s axe, ready to strike. It was only broken by the prince’s pained gasps, clutching again at his throbbing arm.

          Later, in the dead of night, all the elders of the village had gathered in the wise woman’s hut. The blessing of the ground had taken the entire day, and even then, the people gave it a wide berth. The bones still lay there, a reminder of the injustice that happened. The poor raven god was benevolent, one of the few left who were, and it was killed by the humans that once worshipped her.

Hob knew all of this from Lucienne, the evidence was in her hands.

‘This was pulled from the god’s wing,’ she placed it on her table, it was metal, warped from hitting bone, just from a glance he could tell it was man made.

Lucienne sat up straighter, she looked the prince in his eyes, her own eyes held wisdom beyond her years, beyond their little village in fact.

‘My prince, are you prepared to hear your fate?’

Hob took a deep breath, ‘I am, the minute I let that arrow fly I was prepared for the consequences,’ it was true. No matter what happened to him, his people were safe.

Lucienne nodded, she glanced down at the metal ball, looking at it like it some foul insect.

‘The raven god came from the west, driven mad by the bullet embedded in its body, a poisonous hatred that consumed her body and soul, turning her into the demon that attacked us today.’ She looked up, catching Hob’s eyes again,

‘Prince Hob, please,’ she gestured to his bandaged arm, ‘Reveal your arm,’

Never blinking or looking away, Hob took his bandages off, at the sight of his wound, the elders gasped, horrified. Under the flickering light of the wise woman’s hearth, the discoloured skin mirrored the scarred earth. Questions began to be thrown at him, too many for him to answer. Lucienne raised her hand; silence fell once again.

‘I am afraid that same poison infects you now…’ she paused, something flickering in her eyes, when Hob tried, she would no longer meet his eyes,

‘Please, Lucienne, let me hear it,’ the anticipation was worse than the pain.

Lucienne took a deep breath, just one, and straightened up,

‘The infection will spread through you in the same way, your body and soul will be tainted, and…,’ she paused, just for a moment,

‘It will cause you great pain, and then, you will die.’

Hob gave a single nod, he already knew it, somehow. Even now, he could feel that same heat spreading through his body, winding, and twisting like the tendrils. His fate was sealed, it didn’t matter if he begged or rebelled, nothing could change it. That fact that he couldn’t change it left stirred the heat.

A voice spoke up, Billy, fighting for his behalf,

‘Surely there must be something that can be done, Prince Hob saved us,’

‘Do we just sit there and let him die?’

Lucienne never turned her gaze away from Hob, not even blinking at the old man’s questioning,

‘You cannot alter your fate, my prince,’ she lowered her voice, ‘Not anymore.’

‘But you can choose to meet it head on, if you so wish.’

Hob frowned slightly, not truly understanding,

‘How do you mean?’

Lucienne gestured once more to the metal ball,

‘This metal came from the West, that is where the god was injured, and that is where you may find your answers.’

‘You must travel there and see with eyes unclouded by hate. It there where you might find a way to lift your curse.’

Hob perked up, finally, something he could do. He could find his answers, even if he died, it would be worth it, just so he could understand why it happened. Right then and there, he made a solemn vow, he would not die in vain, he refused to let this happen to anyone else, god or human.

‘The journey will be treacherous, you must travel beyond the safety of the mountains and into war territory, if you pass through unscathed you may die either way,’

‘Do you understand?’

None of her words disheartened him, in fact, it filled him with a new kind of vigour, new land, new sights, new people. He would meet them all head on.

‘I do.’

Lucienne smiled sadly, she pushed forward a knife,

‘Then you know what you must do.’

Hob slowly nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show. He reached forward with his uninjured arm, grabbed the knife and his bun of hair. His elders watched in pity, even as his vision was obscured with severed strands of hair, he could see their deep frowns. That was worse than the loss of his hair. He passed the knife and his hair to the wise woman. He knew what was next, with the cutting of his hair, in the eyes of his people, he was officially dead. The thought hurt him more than the burning of his arm. Billy, his old mentor, shook his head, looking more lost than Hob had ever seen him,

‘It's been years since the king destroyed our tribe and drove the remnants of our people into the mountains.’

Hob didn’t need him to elaborate, everyone in the village knew their history. King Burgess had grown envious of their health and longevity and attacked with the sole intent on wiping them out. Lucienne was the last refugee, stumbling into their village all those years ago, bloodstained and refusing to talk about what happened.

Billy continued, ‘We have managed to survive here for all these years, but the blood of our tribe has grown thinner and weaker with each generation,’ he shook his head,

‘The king finally got his wish. Now our last prince must cut his hair and leave us, never to return?’

He hid his face in his hands, muffling his next words,

‘Sometimes I think the gods are laughing at us.’

‘Don’t say that, Billy, I’m sure the gods have it just as bad,’ Hob cracked a smile, Billy even managed a weak chuckle. Lucienne cleared her throat, he turned back to her, trying his best to look sheepish,

‘Our laws forbid us from watching you go or even saying our farewell,’ she swallowed, suddenly overcome with emotion,

‘Whatever happens now, you are dead to us. Farewell, prince Hob,’ and with that, she turned her head, the others followed suit, ignoring their prince as he made his way out of the hut. Hob was barely out the door when he heard two small words,

‘Good luck.’

He didn’t know who said it, and he wasn’t going to risk their being punished by asking, so he kept on walking. He made his way to the stable, finding Yakul, saddled and ready. When he approached, he bowed his head, nuzzling into Hob’s cheek. He buried his face in his short fur, just for a moment, breathing in the scent of his village and climbed up. He headed for the trees, passing over the burnt spot, his arm throbbing the entire time. He was about to enter the trees when he heard a voice call out to him, his sister, running as fast as her little legs could carry her.

‘Roberta!’ he quickly dismounted but made no move towards her, remembering the wise woman’s words,

‘What are you doing here? It’s forbidden to see me off,’

She didn’t answer at first, trying to get her breath back,

‘Do you think I care about that?’ before he could stop her, she threw her arms around him, wrapping him in the tightest hug he ever got,

‘I don’t want you to go,’ she whispered, near tears. His sister had never cried before, not when she was hurt, or when they buried their parents. To hear her so close now, it made his heart break.

‘Hey now, you know the law,’ he tried to be reassuring, even as the tears came to his eyes,

‘You’ll be alright, you’re the leader now,’ he pulled back, patting his sister’s head,

‘You’ll love bossing them about,’ he joked. He knew she would be a good leader, better than him. Roberta looked at him, the moonlight glinting on her tear-stained face,

‘I know you aren’t allowed to take anything, but please make an exception for this,’ she held something out, something shiny. It was a tiny dagger, crafted from what looked like crystal, when it caught the moonlight, Hob was startled to see stars glinting back at him. Roberta’s prized possession.

‘Roberta, you shouldn’t have,’ he tried pushing it away, but she forced it back into his hands,

‘Take it, please…so you’ll never forget me,’ she knuckled her eyes, turning away to compose herself. Hob smiled sadly, closing his fist around the dagger. Roberta found it in the forest one day, claiming it fell from the night sky. Hob didn’t believe it, until tonight. He looked down, seeing the stars reflected.

‘Oh, Roberta, how could I forget my brave, little sister?’ Then, breaking his own law, he hugged her back. Both were quiet, basking in the silence, any words would fail them now, catching in their throat, along with their tears. Then, she touched his shortened hair,

‘…Your hair looks stupid now,’

Hob laughed, hiding the sob built up in his throat, ‘Thank you,’

His sister looked at him, tearfully smiling,

‘Goodbye, Hob.’

He got back on Yakul, letting him nuzzle his sister one last time. He turned; darkness fell over him as he entered the forest. He didn’t want to look back, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. But Hob was never one to listen to his brain, it was what his heart wanted. Risking a glance, he looked at his village for the last time, the tiny lights snuffing out as his people went to bed, safely thanks to him. What would they say when they discover him gone? He hoped they wouldn’t be hard on Lucienne; it wasn’t her fault. He also saw his sister, watching him go, and waving frantically. Hob waved back, even when both her and the village were long gone. Hob sighed; the sound heavy in the dark forest. He urged Yakul to go, if he lingered any longer he might never be able to leave. Stuck between the past and the uncertain future, that was no way to live. No matter what may come Hob would meet it head on, with the same bravery as his little sister.

And with that, the prince was gone, into the unknown.

Chapter Text

Hob travelled through the night, putting him farther and farther away from his home. Misty rain fell through the thick trees, drenching him and Yakul. The chill did nothing to soothe the heat in his arm. It throbbed, pulsing an awkward rhythm, like it was mocking his heartbeat. Yakul galloped until morning came, even through the thicket Hob could feel the rising sun, sensing its single eyed gaze. A new day dawned, bringing with it, a myriad of possibilities, all for Hob to discover. The thought elevated his mood, just a little bit. And the view helped. The forest lit up around him, filling his vision with brilliant shades of green. Even Yakul succumbed to the sight, stopping to nibble on dew covered leaves.  

This was the farthest he had ever ventured from the village. Many didn’t feel the need to leave, not from lack of curiosity, more from preservation. Every child in the village, since they were born, were told of their people’s plight. Their so called legend. It was more of a parable, a warning about the threat of greed. Hob’s village and his people were almost wiped from the face of the earth, because of the greed of one man. A king. Hob could tell the story in his sleep. But he wouldn’t. It was too soon. For now, he carried on.

The first day passed by quietly. So did the second. Yakul trotted along, content and happy, especially with Hob’s head scratches. It wasn’t until the seventh day, when he blinked himself awake, lifting his head from his bed of moss, he felt it. He was being watched. It wasn’t an animal, that much he could tell. He hadn’t seen an animal since his fourth day of travelling, and that was only a bird. Now, there was nothing. The forest was silent, and that was more unnerving. Even Yakul was unsettled. He stared deep into the forest, his brown eyes wide,

‘What is it, boy?’ Hob asked, his hushed words were a cacophony against his ears. Yakul twitched his ears, the only sign he was listening, and wouldn’t tear his eyes away from the forest. Taking the hint, Hob quickly gathered their supplies and left. No matter how much distance he put behind him, he could feel whatever it was following. Even as he weaved through tangles of trees, twisted into knots like rope, or when he bounded over rivers, soaking himself up to his chest, the eyes followed. Hob shivered, he looked back for the umpteenth time, and still, he couldn’t see anything. But it was there. Hiding. Lurking. Watching his every move. He tried his best to ignore it, even as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He rubbed at the skin there, smooth, and unblemished from the protection his long hair had given him. It felt strange, like he was really was a new person. Hob ignored the hurt that the thought brought.

On the tenth day, they finally stopped. Only so Yakul could rest and eat. He ate his body weight in oats, then curled up. Too weary to even glance into the trees. Hob rubbed his head, thanking his friend. He promised him he would treat him whenever they found a town. Hob lit a fire as soon as night fell, his hot tea doing little to soothe him.

The feeling was still there.

Hob sat back, Yakul’s warmth helped, but his eyes refused to shut. Sleep evaded him. Hob rubbed a calloused hand over his face, wishing he could turn his mind off, just for a second. Thoughts bounced around inside his head, like the bullet that ravaged that poor raven god. A bitter sigh rose within the prince. They never even knew her name. Would that have helped? Can you even evoke a dying god? Hob sighed, turning away from the fire. He buried his hand in Yakul’s fur, deftly easing out a knot. Yakul stirred but didn’t wake. How he envied him.  

Besides the occasional throb of his arm, he didn’t feel any different. Physically, he was healthy, mentally…

He thought about his dreams, fractured images filled with blood and pain, dying screams filled his head, and then, through the confusion, he noticed a pair of eyes. Icy blue eyes. Hob awoke in a cold sweat, still feeling the gaze of those eyes. He could sense the hunger in its gaze, just like now, in the waking. The feeling was back, he was being watched. Then, before Hob could react, a puff of hot breath, against his bare neck. Slowly, Hob moved his head. He turned, just as something moved among the trees, coming closer and closer to him. A twig snapped. Yakul shot his head up, wide awake, he let out a quiet whine.

‘It’s alright, boy,’ Hob whispered, his words broke the uneasy silence, Yakul just stared. He followed his gaze, and he saw it.

A pair of eyes stared out of the darkness, aimed right at him. The same ones from Hob’s dream. He couldn’t tell if it was human or animal, god, or demon, but it was hungry. Slowly, greedily, the glowing eyes roamed up and down Hob’s body. As discreetly as he could, Hob pulled out his dagger.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you…’

The voice was rough, stirring up every bad memory Hob had. Yakul whined beside him, curling closer beside him.

‘What are you?’ Hob asked, his lips dry. The thing, whatever it was, just chuckled. The gasp of a dying man.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he heard a sound, under the words. Like nails scratching against wood.

‘Doesn’t it?’

Keep this thing talking, Hob thought, keep it talking and maybe he could attack.

‘Can’t I know who disturbs my slumber?’

The being chuckled again, the grief-stricken wail of a mother. In the blink of an eye, it moved closer. Hob thinks anyway, it was hard to tell with just the eyes. Just beyond the flickering light of the fire, it stared. Never taking his own eyes off the thing, Hob threw more wood onto the fire. Keeping it blazing. The darkness writhed.

‘Well, I mean no offence,’ that was a lie, as an edge crept into his voice, ‘But if you have no business here, then I must ask you to leave.’

For emphasis, he flashed his dagger. The thing chuckled again, his warning nothing more than a joke to it.

‘Oh, foolish, little prince.’

Hob’s breath caught in his throat, the thing continued,

‘What do you expect to find here in the forest? Humans are not welcome, you should know that,’ the smile in its voice was obvious.

‘Why not return home?’ A low sound crept into its words, not unlike a growl. ‘Return to your limited life, distract yourself with drink and women, until Death pulls you into nothingness.’

‘No one will remember you, or the life you lived. You are simply a drop in the ocean of life.’

Despite the raging fire, Hob shivered. His fingers trembled as the being’s words washed over him. No matter what he would do, how he acted or lived, none of it mattered in the end. Not when the same fate met all humans. To be spirited away into the unknown by an uncaring force of nature. It wasn’t fair, and Hob’s own descent would be filled with pain.

He gripped his throbbing arm, blinking hard. The glowing eyes disappeared, only to reappear even closer. Inches from the edge of his fire, the eyes were horrible, bulging, bloodshot and, for some reason, knobbly.

‘What will you do then, little prince?’

Yakul whined, pulling Hob out of his deep thoughts. He looked at Yakul, right into his kind eyes. Yakul, loyal, sweet, Yakul. He had been there for Hob since he was born. Running after him on his awkward, newborn legs. Hob looked back up at the strange eyes, staring into them, and then, taking a huge breath, he did the only thing he could think of.

He laughed. A deep, raucous laugh that filled the forest with its mad sound. Yakul looked at him, worried he’d suddenly lost his mind. Even the creature seemed unnerved, its eyes dimming slightly.

‘You call that a threat?’ Hob wiped away his tears of mirth, ‘I’m already marked by death,’ the eyes, somehow all knowing, flickered to his cursed arm,

‘Death can no longer surprise me. I have nothing to lose,’ Hob gritted his teeth,

‘But I have everything to gain,’ he took another breath, steadying his nerve,

‘When death comes for me, I will not go easy. I will fight and make sure I find my answers; do you want to know why?’

The creature didn’t answer, its gaze wavering, only slightly,

‘Because death is a mug’s game.’

In the span of a heartbeat, Hob threw his dagger, it hit something with a satisfying thud, and the eyes disappeared. He heard the retreat of heavy footsteps, fading into the darkness. Silence returned, bar the crackling of his fire, only then did he relax. Hob sank back down into Yakul’s side, offering him a tight-lipped smile,

‘It’s ok, Yakul, we’re ok.’

Yakul answered with snort, nosing his palm. Despite his words, neither closed their eyes for the rest of the night. The fire blazed on, until the night receded, Hob waited until the sun was right above him before heading out. As they passed the spot where he saw the eyes, he found his dagger embedded into the tree, and on the damp grass, sat a human eyeball. Fresh and bloody. Whether it was left there as a warning or what, he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. He led Yakul past the spot, keeping his eyes ahead.

Nothing followed.

Chapter Text

After a week of travelling, he finally left the forest. He blinked his eyes, blinded by the sudden sunlight. He was still alone, no animals, and no creatures, or whatever was prowling his campsite that night. Shaking off the thought, he looked ahead. He still had a way to go to make it to the river, his canteen hung empty by his side. He ignored his dry lips and urged Yakul on. He descended the mountain, and although he was out of the forest, he could still feel its presence. The trees that burst from the ground, the plants left uneaten by humans and animals, shivered as if a strong burst of wind passed through. The only problem with that, there was no wind. There hadn't been wind all day. Hob ignored it. Then, just as he made to leave the rocky path, he spotted something, thick bellows of black smoke, rising into the air.

‘A battle?’ Hob asked aloud, Yakul slowed, he didn’t want to risk a stray arrow hitting either of them. As they got closer, the smell hit him before the sight. It hung thick in the air like the smoke. Blood. It was a village, or, what was left of the village. Wooden huts reduced to matchsticks, and masses of people huddled on the ground in front of them. Hob took a step, a question ready on his lips, but he stopped. They were no longer people. Piles upon piles of bodies, tossed unceremoniously onto the dirt. Mothers clutching their children protectively, even in death. The once green grass under them dyed deep red. There was nothing left. Stripped, battered, and burned. 

‘No. A massacre.’

Hob had heard rumours of the carnage infecting the land, seeing it first hand was something else. Hob had been trained from birth to be a warrior, a protector for his people, and he knew the difference between honourable and dishonourable warfare. This didn’t even deserve to be called warfare, this was slaughter. He should bury them; it was only right. Just as he was about to dismount Yakul, the thundering of a horse approached.

‘There! On the hill!’ came a voice. Hob had just enough time to look down as an arrow flew past his face. Bandits, no doubt the cause of the massacre.

‘After him! Don’t let him escape!’

The voices followed him even as Hob urged Yakul to run.

‘Bring me his head!’

More arrows flew past him, missing him by inches. Yakul ran and ran, effortlessly bounding over the rocky path. Then, up ahead, he saw something that made his blood boil. A bandit, dressed in stolen armour, attacking a defenceless woman. Deaf to her cries of pain, the bandit brought his weapon, a misshapen club, down on her back, again and again, until her bones no doubt broke. Wasting no time, Hob urged Yakul to speed up, and pulled out his own bow and arrow. He waited, getting himself closer, close enough to see the terror in the woman’s eyes, and the hate in the bandit’s. Heat rose within him. Why? Why would this happen to a defenceless woman? Where was the justice in that?

The faint throbbing in his arm spiked. Just as Hob let loose an arrow. The pain in his arm reached a blinding point, wrenching out a gasp. His arrow whistled through the air and hit the bandit in his outstretched arms.

With a wet, sickening sound, the arms were ripped out of his sockets. They embedded themselves into a nearby tree, hanging limply like a grotesque decoration. The bandit just looked on in horror, blood streaming from his wounds.

Hob gasped. This was not his strength. He clutched at his arm, the skin writhing and crawling under his touch.

‘What is happening?’ he gasped through gritted teeth, the pain was white hot now, burning up his entire arm. More bandits came, attracted by the noise. Another arrow flew dangerously close to Yakul’s head. Hob quickly fired back. He knew the arrow made contact from the gasps, what he wasn’t expecting was for the head to come toppling off. Falling into the dirt, followed by the tumble of the bandit's now useless body.

Bile rose in Hob’s throat. He urged Yakul to speed up, he had to get far away from there, before he caused any more damage. As he passed the dying woman, they locked eyes. Through a mask of bruises, her eyes flickered, flickered with fear, fear towards him. Even though he still clutched his arm, her expression bothered him more than the throbbing pain.

The pair rode until they were drenched in sweat. Eventually, Yakul slowed, his breaths coming out in huffs. He waited until he was sure they weren't being followed, and dismounted. Yakul, though exhausted, nuzzled at his hair. Hob’s lips twitched, but it did little to help. He buried his face in Yakul’s neck, the fur a welcoming, warm refuge from reality. Even as he hid away and clenched his eyes, he could still see it. The blood, the fear in that woman’s eyes. Was it his curse? Or, was it the land corrupting him?

Yakul stepped out of his reach, wrenching him out of his reverie. He blinked until he saw why. They finally found the river. Yakul drank like he was trying to drain the entire thing. Hob chuckled, patting his side,

‘Take your time, boy, you deserve it.’

Hob sat down beside him, splashing cool water on his face. He dried his face on his sleeve, then stopped, a shape caught his eye. A familiar shape.

A body. Floating down the river. Another one followed, and another.

Hob, stunned, quickly stopped Yakul from drinking. Was the river poisoned? No, he recognised the clothing. They were from that village, tossed into the river like they were nothing more than trash. A bitter taste filled Hob’s mouth. This waste of human life, snuffed out for no reason, it sickened him. And yet, he was no better. He thought back to the men he ruthlessly killed, the dying woman's fear.

The pain in his arm reared its head again, without realising, Hob loosened his white knuckle grip on his sleeve.

Yakul sniffed, gently nipping his shoulder. Hob turned, Yakul was trying to get his attention. Edging further down the river’s edge, down where the river was at its shallowest.

‘Whoa! Wait a minute, boy,’ the last thing he wanted was for Yakul to hurt himself. He followed after, carefully hopping over the rocks, only slipping once. Yakul stopped, looking back at him, then looking at something at his hooves. At first, Hob thought it was a mass of rags, then maybe a barrel. No, it was another body, a man, limbs sprawled like he had fallen from a large height. Hob glanced at Yakul,

‘Ok?’ he gestured helplessly, ‘And?’

He figured they’d both seen enough bodies, then, miraculously, he saw the man’s chest rise, ever so slightly. Quickly, Hob fell to his knees, checking his pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

‘Oh, good boy, Yakul!’ he ruffled the elk’s fur, grinning when he preened.

Hob prided himself on his strength, he was the strongest in his village in fact, it came with being a protector he reckoned. But this man refused to budge, even when Hob got his arms under his shoulders. It was like trying to move a felled tree. It didn’t help that the water kept making his feet slip. Eventually, somehow, he managed to drag the larger man out of the water, and onto the dry grass. Hob knelt beside him, panting, trying not to feel jealousy at the larger man’s frame. Even crumpled to the floor, he could tell that this man would tower over him. His arms were thick as tree trunks, rippling with muscles and fresh scars. His hair, fiery red, hung loose from his ponytail. Hob, without thinking, pressed his ear to the man’s chest.

He was checking for water in the lungs, he told himself. The man’s chest was hard like marble, but warm. He couldn’t hear any gurgling, but, he couldn’t hear any breathing either. Panicking, he lifted his head, preparing to tell Yakul the bad news. Then, with a strangled yell, the man shot up. In the span of a breath, his hand fisted itself in Hob's shirt. Hob was pulled down, with such force it was a wonder his shirt didn’t rip. He came face to face with the man, eyes bloodshot and burning with fury. Hob’s mouth went dry, at an obvious disadvantage. Then, as clarity slowly returned to the injured man, he blinked, every second taking more and more fire out of his eyes. His eyes were blue, Hob noted numbly, bright blue like the sky. He released his hold, Hob fell back with a grunt. The larger man coughed, bringing up river water,

‘Apologies,’ he managed to choke out, ‘My mind was elsewhere.’

Hob breathed for a moment, waiting to make sure he was no longer a threat.

‘Understandable,’ Hob managed to say, ‘Considering I found you in a river.’

The other man chuckled, Hob could tell he had a deep, booming laugh, one that started at the base of the belly, even when it ended in another gasp. Hob helped turn him onto his side, helping him bring up more water.

‘I think your arm may be broken,’ Hob told him, gingerly touching the muscular arm,

‘Most likely,’ the other man coughed, ‘But I’ve broken worse,’ his blue eyes swivelled to meet his, he held out a hand, Hob took it, his own hand dwarfed in their clasp. Even though the man’s body was designed for warfare, there was a soft side, hidden around the edges. Hob could tell by the other man’s eyes, it was the crinkle of laughter lines. They introduced themselves,

‘I’m Hob,’

‘Olethros,’

At Hob’s confusion, the other man laughed,

‘Or Ollie will do,’

Hob nodded, gratefully, ‘It is a strange name,’

‘Right back at you.’

His friendly smile dipped when he tried to sit up,

‘Whoa! Hang on there,’ with one hand, Hob searched his bag, pulling out bandages. He made the man as comfortable as possible, before the unfortunate process of setting his bones. Besides the arm, his leg was also broken, snapped at the knee at an awkward angle.

‘These breaks are serious. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get so injured?’

Ollie grimaced, blinking as the memory came back to him,

‘It was…it was during a job,’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I am a soldier,’

Hob paused, his hands stopping midway through a knot,

‘Oh…’

Not sensing his unease, or ignoring it, Ollie continued,

‘Yes, I was protecting my people, the mountain pass is dangerous especially when carrying food. I fought off bandits and…and others…,’

Hob frowned at his pause, but what was he going to do? Stop and just leave him there. He had no right. There had already been too much death.

They lapsed into silence, not the comforting silence of being with friends, this was more awkward, like waiting for bad news. After Hob finished binding the man’s injuries, setting up a fire beside him, and offering some of his food. It was Ollie that finally broke the silence,

‘Thank you for your kindness,’

Hob paused, the crackling of the fire the only sound. He thought for a moment before answering, ‘Don’t thank me...I do not deserve it,’

‘No?’ Ollie took a gulp from Hob’s canteen, ‘Not many would rescue a man they found in the river, especially a soldier,’

Hob smiled a humourless smile, ‘Well, I guess I just recognised my own kind,’

‘Yes, but why?' Ollie prodded, 'Why would a soldier save another soldier? Seems pointless, doesn't it? What are the odds we won’t try to slay each other on a battlefield later on?’

Hob thought for a moment, then shrugged, ‘Well, I have plenty of things to do before that, as I'm sure you do too.’

Ollie barked out a laugh. Yakul sat between them, near to the fire, not protesting when Ollie scratched his head,

‘So, Hob was it?’ he turned his gaze back to Hob, something flickering in his gaze,

‘What’s the story behind your arm?’

Hob blinked, looking down, he had been subconsciously gripping his cursed arm again.

‘I-I was in a battle,’ he didn’t want to say anymore than that, but there was something in Ollie's gaze, something that told him he already knew. Or, maybe he was just overly curious?

‘It was with a demon,’

Ollie made a surprised sound, ‘Not a god?’

‘No, well, she used to be, I think’ Hob looked down, ‘Something changed her, poisoned her,’

‘I followed her trail west but…’

‘You lost it?’

Hob nodded, almost sheepishly, he half expected the bigger man to bark out another laugh. Clap him on the shoulder and say hard luck, instead, the Ollie just shrugged, grimacing as he did,

‘Such is life.’

Hob blinked at him, Ollie took another drink, then pointed up above them, back to were the village was,

‘See that place up there? Few years back, it was a lovely village, some of the nicest people I met were from there.’

Hob nodded, shoulders sagging form an unknown weight,

‘And now look, they’re gone, it’s gone.’ Ollie turned his head, staring out into the distance,

‘These days, there are angry ghosts all around us.’ Sadness tinged his voice,

‘Dead from wars, sickness, starvation, and nobody cares.’ He turned to Hob, something flickering in his face that Hob didn’t like,

‘So, you say you're under a curse?’

Hob had not mentioned the curse.

 Ollie shrugged, continuing on, ‘So what? So's the whole damn world,’ he said it so nonchalantly, like he was merely commenting on the weather,

‘And there’s nothing we can do about it.’

Hob was bothered, not because he mentioned his curse, Hob didn’t pick up on that, it was the lack of hope in the man’s voice. The hopelessness seemed to spread to him, because suddenly without meaning to, Hob’s shoulders sagged,

‘I shouldn’t have gone to that village, because of me, two men are dead,’

Ollie shrugged again, nothing like jovial man from before, ‘Just some thugs, you win some, you lose some,’ all the mirth vanishing from his face,

‘Everybody dies, as my older sister loved to remind me, some now, some later. Death comes to us all, from brothel girl to the emperor. Although,’ he leaned forward, grimacing as he did,

‘I’ve heard rumours, Emperor Burgess is offering a hill of gold to whoever can grant him immortality.’

He barked his booming laugh again, ‘Can you imagine? Humans will do anything to try and trick death,’ again, his smile faltered, ‘It’s sad, really,’

Hob, having had enough of the depressing conversation, spoke up,

‘I think it was a human that did it, somehow,’ he searched his pockets, pulling out the misshapen metal,

‘This was pulled from her wing,’ with a nod, Ollie picked it up, he held it up to the light, inspecting it like a jeweller,

‘Iron,’ he nodded, he handed it back to Hob, then, a thoughtful look passed over his face,

‘My town may have some answers,’

‘How can a town recognise a single ball of iron?’

‘It’s called Iron town,’

Hob blinked, ‘Oh, ok.’

Ollie gestured over his shoulder,

‘It’s a place high in the mountains, you’re actually quite close but I must warn you,’ he looked side to side, like he was expecting someone there to be listening in,

‘It is a dangerous place, more dangerous than this place with its bandits. The spirit of the forest dwells there, and others. It’s a very dangerous place for humans,’

‘And yet, humans live there?’

‘Yes,’ Ollie barked, ‘Of course, to enter there is certain death, as if that would be enough to dissuade humans,’ he chuckled again,

‘You said spirit of the forest?’

Ollie nodded, a knowing look in his eye, ‘I’ve been told the beasts there are all giant, and strange,’

‘Stranger than a giant raven,’

‘Yes, but I’m sure you will see soon enough.’

And with that, the larger man tried getting to his feet, forgetting about his leg. With an yelp that was unlike the rest of him, he fell back down, cursing as he did. Hob got to his feet,

‘Wait, please, let me help you,’

Ollie tried waving him off,

‘You will need your wits about you, an injured man will only slow you down,’

Hob stubbornly shook his head, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not leaving you here.’

No one else was going to die today, not if Hob could help it. With Hob's strength, and Ollie’s good leg, they managed to get him to mount Yakul, and off they went. Ollie it seemed to loved to talk, not about anything useful, no, he had to comment on every little thing. The colour of the leaves, the lack of wind, the types of birds above them. Hob didn't mind at first, thinking the man would just tire himself out. But no, he didn't even pause for breath. Not even a shattered arm and leg could slow him down it seemed.

They weren’t even travelling for an hour when Yakul stopped again, ears flicking like he sensed something,

‘What is it, boy?’ another casualty. He headed towards where Yakul stared at, away from Ollie's inane prattle, and stopped in his tracks. He could hear noises, they were not human. Through the brush, there was a spot he could look through. Dropping to his knees, Hob peered out.

He saw a normal forest scene, trees, plants, and the furred mass of an animal. He couldn’t tell what It was at first, it was curled up like it was asleep. Fur rising and falling. Its black fur shone like metal, it even seemed to sparkle when the sunlight hit it. It was only when it raised its head that Hob gasped. It was a massive feline, like a panther, but with more glorious fur, and tufted ears. That wasn't what made him gasp, no, what made him gasp was the liquid spilling from its neck. Hob considered going to help, just as he was about to jump up from his hiding place, another animal came into view. A wolf, fur just as black as the giant feline, but the kind of black that absorbed all colour.

Following the wolf was a person, a normal looking person. Walking by its side the way you would with a loyal dog. Hob couldn’t see their face, only their pale limbs, poking out of their silver grey furs. The person walked like a noble, their steps sure and steady, but when they saw the other bleeding animal, Hob saw the worry in their movements. The person rushed to the bigger animal and, surprisingly, wasn’t attacked. What was a human doing with beasts? Were they disguising themselves with the animal furs? If they were, it was working. Hob watched as the person pressed his face into the feline’s fur, the spot of the injury no doubt, and began spitting out some of the blood. The feline, even though it was in pain, allowed the person to do so. As Hob watched, he noticed the wolf sitting by, waiting patiently, and above them, the greatest shock of all, that day, was a tiny rainbow coloured dragon. Hob blinked, rubbing his eyes hard. When he opened his eyes, the dragon was still there, in fact, with a puff of purple smoke, it hovered and settled on top the wolf’s head. The wolf didn’t react. It even wagged its tail.

Then, the feline turned, growling in his direction, almost like they could sense his presence. The figure, a young man, snapped his head to look as well.  All the air left Hob’s lungs. A pale face stared back at him, the most stunning face he had ever seen, unmarred by the blood that painted his face. His blue eyes, shiny like sapphires, were hardened into a glare, rosebud lips twisted into a frown. Not thinking, as usual, Hob jumped up from his hiding place,

‘Excuse me, forgive my trespassing, but are you a god?’

No answer. The man just glared, blue eyes piercing his soul,

‘My name is Hob! I have travelled far from lands to the east. Are you ancient gods, and have I come at last to the realm of the Spirit of the Forest?’

The pale man, still glaring, spat out a glob of blood. He tilted his head, as if conversing with the animals beside him, and jumped onto the wolf’s back.

‘Leave this place,’ the pale man ordered, and with that, they were gone, both him, the wolf, the feline and the strange dragon. Hob didn’t realise he fell to the ground until his knees stung. His heart hammered behind his chest, head empty except for one thing.

That voice. That deep, baritone voice.

Hob would have loved nothing more than to sit there and repeat it over and over again. He would have, if Ollie hadn’t interrupted him. His exclamation enough to rattle the whole mountain. Hob sighed, something heavy settling in his chest. He glanced back one last time before heading back to Yakul.

Chapter Text

Hob came to find Ollie, the mountain of a man, shrieking, shrieking like he was being murdered.

‘Look! Look!’ he exclaimed, Hob looked to where he was pointing, and smiled. Sitting on the rock was a tiny, pale figure with a blank face. Two black eyes and a space for a mouth. On anything else, it would have been creepy, but the tiny figure was just sitting, cross legged, the way a child would sit, listening to a story. It tilted its head.

‘No need for such a reaction,’ he told Ollie, ‘It’s just a Kodoma.’

Hob, though he never saw one in his life time, had heard the stories. His mother often regaled him of the Kodama’s little adventures, using shadow puppets to re-enact certain points. Even as she lay on her death bed, still holding her son's face, she told him that the Kodomas would guide him, as long as he never lost his hope.

‘They’re just tree spirits, it means the forest is healthy,’ Hob told him,

Ollie wasn’t convinced, leaning so far away it was a wonder he didn’t topple over,

‘No!’ he shook his head, biting his lip in fear, ‘Where there’s one, there’s more,’

‘More? You mean like the big cat I saw?’

Ollie looked at him, frowning, then, he gasped,

‘It disappeared!’ he scanned the surroundings, and shrieked again. Atop Yakul’s head, nestled between his ears, sat the Kodoma. It just stared blankly at the men, Hob could feel no malice from the sprite, and Yakul snacked on leaves, calm as anything.

‘Well,' Hob put his hands on his hips, 'Yakul doesn’t seem to mind, so, I think we’re fine.’

Ollie, eyes wide, just stared at him, ‘You think?! These things are dangerous, we’re lucky there’s only one of them.’

As if on cue, two more appeared, hanging off Yakul’s ears like dangly earrings. Ollie loudly gulped. One Kodoma lost his grip, Hob, with his warrior instincts, reached out and caught it in time. The Kodoma landed on his palm. It weighed nothing but Hob could feel the slightest chill where it touched his skin, like a rain drop nestled on his palm. The Kodoma righted itself up, looked up into Hob’s face, and waved. Its stubby little arm no bigger than Hob’s fingernail.

Hob smiled, ‘Hello, little one,’ he kept his voice quiet, worried his normal voice would startle the little thing,

‘Forgive us for entering your forest, but would you mind showing us a way out?’

The Kodoma did nothing, then, with a sound like the rattling of bones, it vanished. Hob blinked, listening out for the sound. In the blink of an eye, it reappeared across the river, waving at him.

Hob nodded, patting Yakul,

‘Seems like it wants us to follow him.’

‘Of course,’ Ollie clutched his broken arm, ‘Why wouldn’t it?’ 

The trio crossed the river, following the Kodomas, even when they appeared in the leaves of the trees, swinging to and fro. Hob just smiled, thinking back to the children of his village, calling for him to pick them up and swing them around. Roberta just shook his head, even though she was one of the first to demand him to pick her up, high over his head, just so she could climb the trees. A pain in Hob's heart made him think of something else.

As they descended the mountain, poor Yakul’s legs began to tremble, unused to the large weight of Ollie. He pulled his gaze away from the offending tree spirits and looked down at the red elk,

‘You know…I don’t mind walking,’ he patted Yakul’s neck, ‘I hate seeing an animal suffer,’ before Hob could stop him, he jumped from the elk’s back. There was a horrible sound when he landed, all colour left the giant man's face. Ollie’s leg twisted and collapsed beneath him, somehow, the man only grunted, just the slightest shiver radiating throughout his body.

‘Whoa, there!’ Hob exclaimed, rushing to his side, ‘We don’t want you passing out.’

Ollie glanced up, face twisted, ‘…Too late,’ he muttered. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, falling back to the ground. It was only Hob’s quick reflexes that saved the man's head from dashing against a rock. No matter how hard he shook the man, or shouted at him, he wouldn't rouse. He was out cold.

Hob glanced at Yakul, the elk shook his head, taking a step back,

‘Don’t worry, boy, I’m not going to force you to carry him.’

It still left the question of how they were going to transport the large man, and they had to move fast, the Kodomas were leaving them behind. The throbbing pain reared its head again, Hob glanced at his arm. Squatting down, he got his arms under Ollie, and heaved. It was like trying to shift a boulder, he awkwardly threw him over his shoulder. He staggered, but didn't fall. Instead of the crushing weight on his shoulders, he focused instead on the pain in his cursed arm, throbbing with every step, mimicking his heartbeat. He followed the little spirits, Yakul trotting along behind him.

They walked and walked, Hob sweating an cursing under his breath. He gained a new respect for Yakul, having to cart his lazy arse everywhere. The Kodomas waited, rattling, and when Hob reached them, they took off like mice.

‘Hey, fellas?’ Hob chuckled, ‘You aren’t trying to get us lost, are you?’

No answer, not that Hob was expecting one.

He kept his eyes on the retreating Kodoma, watching his little feet kick up dirt. Then, he noticed something. With every blink, the Kodoma got fainter and fainter, slowly vanishing from sight.

‘Wait!’ but even as he called out, he glimpsed it through the trees. A town. A massive town, big enough to swallow his little village ten times over. Surrounded by a body of water, it was encased with thousands of logs. No doubt the reason for the numerous broken stumps behind it. It was loud, and vibrant, and alive. It set Hob's sense alight, even from where he stood. He turned back, the Kodoma was already gone. Instead, he directed his gratitude to the trees, knowing they would pass on his message. Inches from his hair, a hot puff of breath, followed by a groan.

‘Ah, you’re finally awake,’ Hob greeted, he adjusted his hold, Ollie groaned again.

‘Hell’s teeth,' he muttered, '…Where’s death when you need her?’

Hob rolled his eyes, ‘Don’t be so dramatic, look,’ he gently nudged the man, urging him to lift his head,

His eyes widened, ‘I’m home!’

‘So, this is Iron town’

‘Yes, isn’t it marvellous? Built from nothing, courtesy of the good Lady Constantine. Why, without her, these people would have nowhere to live, nowhere to thrive, or create.’

Hob had to agree, ‘It’s like a fortress,’

‘Well, it is protected, you wouldn’t believe how many people want to get their hands on the place.’ With a shaking hand, he pointed to the water, the shallowest part.

‘The amount of iron we pull from the sand would bring the emperor himself to his knees.’

Hob said nothing, enraptured by the sight. As they made their way towards the fortress, people came spilling out. Ollie, from his awkward angle, called out,

‘Hello there!’

The boom of his voice almost made Hob drop him. Hob watched, ignoring his ringing ears, as a man broke off from the group and rushed over. As he neared, Hob noted his long coat, his serious face. Ollie called out to him,

‘John! Greetings, my friend,’ he held out a massive hand, John merely glanced at it, not even commenting on him being carried.

‘So, you survived then,’

‘Yep,’ Ollie cheerfully said, ‘Sorry to disappoint,’

John simply huffed, the sunlight caught his hair, making it look like spun gold, 

‘And you’re injured, we’ll have to waste supplies on you,’

‘Oh, there’s really no need for that.’

Before John could respond to that, a woman’s voice called out,

‘Ollie!’

The injured man perked up, straining to look over Hob's shoulder, ‘Inanna, my love.’

A tall woman came into view, towering over John and Hob, dressed in a simple red kimono, brown hair peeking out from her white headscarf. Even with her simple attire, her beauty was obvious, her skin was kissed by the sun and her hazel eyes were vibrant as they looked Ollie up and down. In an instant, her look of relief switched to one of annoyance,

‘That’s just great, Olethros, now, who will drive the oxen?’

Ollie’s smile disappeared, ‘I-I will heal, you know I will,’ he insisted,

Inanna just frowned,

‘Yes, in a week, or two knowing your lazy arse,’

‘But my little flower-,’

Inanna jabbed a finger in Ollie’s face, ‘Don’t you “little flower” me, I wish those beasts had eaten you, then, maybe I could have found a real husband.’

Despite her harsh words, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes, glowing brighter at Ollie’s discomfort, and his mumbled, ‘Can we discuss this later?’

A sigh from behind them grabbed their attention,

‘Inanna, save your sweet nothings for another time,’ John said, sounding bored. Inanna swung round, fast enough to make her earrings clatter,

‘And as for you, John Constantine,’ she uttered his name like it was a joke, lips pulled back in a sneer,

‘Some captain of the guard you are, all you do is strut around and bark orders, only showing up when the hard work is over.’

Although his face didn’t change, his own voice mirrored Ollie’s cowed mutter,

‘That’s unfair and untrue.’

Inanna sighed, shaking her head at the excuses for men she had. She looked up, finally catching Hob’s eye. He was hard to see, half hidden under her husband's body. His breath faltered, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t unnerved by the woman. The way she carried herself and dished out disapproval, he suddenly missed his sister.

Hob waited, trying hard not to look away. Instead, she gave him a friendly smile,

‘Thank you, stranger, my husband’s an idiot,’

Ollie muttered something under his breath,

‘But I’m glad he’s safe.’

Hob's shoulders sagged with relief, ‘That’s good, I was starting to think I did something wrong,’ he easily joked. Inanna laughed, thanking him again. Two more people came over, helping Ollie down from Hob. He gladly gave him up, rolling his shoulder to ease the pain. Two more had to come over, just to support the weight of the larger man. As more and more people spilled out from the town, shooting Hob curious glances, the chatter suddenly stopped. All the sound had been ripped from the world. A predator was nearby. Hob’s fingers itched to grab his knife, still, even when he saw the reason for the reaction, he slowly got into his fighting stance.

A woman stood at the mouth of the town, her dark red kimono, reminiscent of spilled blood, irked Hob. He already knew who this was, Lady Constantine, the leader of Iron town. Her dark hair was tied back in a pink ribbon, and though her intelligent eyes looked down on Hob with curiosity, there was something else in her gaze, something that sparked across his skin like electricity.

His bad arm throbbed again. Another woman stood close by, dressed similarly, clutching a naginata, despite the appearance of the weapon, she smiled down at Hob. Her smile was genuine, so, he graced her with his own.

Lady Constantine, ignoring Hob, spoke instead to John, her voice commanding,

‘John, bring the stranger to me later,’

At John’s confused expression, she simply smirked,

‘I would like to thank him personally.’

That look returned, something was hidden in those brown eyes. Whatever it was, Hob would meet it head on. Perhaps sensing his thoughts, the lady turned to address Ollie,

‘Ollie, please forgive me, your injured state is because of me,’ her smirk returned, ‘I am glad you’re safe.’

Ollie blinked owlishly, ‘Um, thank you, my lady,’

Inanna let out a groan beside him,

‘My lady, you really shouldn’t say things like that,’ she reached over and ruffled her husband’s fiery hair,

‘His head cannot get any bigger.’

Ollie whinged but said nothing. Lady Constantine just smiled her strange smile,

‘You must forgive me as well, Inanna, I should never have let this happen,’ though her words were remorseful, the tone she spoke in was fake. No one else but Hob seemed to notice.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that, my lady,’ she waved away her words,

‘If you weren't there, the beasts would have eaten everybody,’ she laughed,

‘Then, we’d all have to find new husbands.’

The woman next to Constantine giggled, at last, warmth seeped into the lady’s face, turned slightly to watch the other woman try, and fail, to hide her mirth. It was the first time she looked human.

‘Still,’ she turned back to Inanna, ‘Forgive me, it was not my intention to lose anyone.’

Before anyone could say anything else, she turned, her dark cloak whipping behind her, the others followed, like she was a beacon. Hob didn’t know what to think, he ran a hand through his hair, shaking it out, and working through any tangles. He turned to see Inanna, staring at him,

‘Oh my! You’re downright gorgeous,’

Hob blushed furiously, ‘Um, what?’ he intelligently said, she grabbed his arm, squeezing his muscle in delight,

‘Come with me, my sisters will love you,’

Hob dithered, the woman effortlessly pulling him forward like a errant child,

‘Um, actually, I really should be going,’ even as the words left his mouth, he watched Yakul come up beside him, no doubt enticed by the delicious smells coming from the town.

Hob sighed, resigned to his fate, for once. As he entered the town, watching the massive door, pulled by many strong people, slowly fell, he felt those eyes again. Following his every move, until the door finally fell, shielding himself from the forest.

Chapter Text

The first thing that hit Hob was the smell. It was delicious, street venders vied for his attention, roasted honeyed meat, salted trout, and best of all, golden brown pastries that oozed jam. Not only that, stalls selling spices and perfumes, battled for dominance in his nose. His head swam, he had never experienced such decadence, and he wanted to try it all. He tried edging away, following the scent of a certain sizzling steak, but his path was blocked by curious bystanders. All women.

‘My word, look at him,’ came one elderly woman,

‘Very muscly,’

‘He came from the forest, you say?’

‘The forest? With the demons?’

‘He can’t be a demon, he’s too handsome,’

‘Too hairy.’

A brave hand wandered to his front, he swatted it away, aiming a glare in that person’s direction. Inanna frowned, eyeing up the women that surrounded them,

‘Alright ladies, calm yourselves,’ her hazel eyes flashed, silence fell upon the crowd,

‘It’s not like you haven’t seen a man after all.’ They all chuckled, Hob felt overwhelmed. He sought out Yakul, a few steps behind him, accepting whatever treat was offered his way. Hob sighed, jealous of his steed. His stomach chose that moment to make its hunger known. His cheeks flushed, worse when Inanna turned to look at him,

‘Was that you?’ she slapped her forehead, ‘Gods, where are my manners? You must be starving’

Hob wanted to politely reassure her, but he also wanted to eat.

‘Just a smidge.’

Inanna nodded, turning on her heel, closer to the smell of food. They stopped outside of a wooden hut, already full of people, devouring their own dishes. Hob’s mouth watered at the sight of the meat. He waited until Inanna found him a spot, right next to the hearth, and gestured for him to help himself,

‘You make yourself at home,’ she smiled politely, ‘I’ll come find you when Lady Constantine is ready,’ just as she turned to leave, weaving her way through the hungry folk, she turned back,

‘Young man?’

Hob paused, meat skewer half way to his lips,

‘You didn’t see anything…strange in the forest, did you?’

Hob immediately thought of the thing behind the trees, with the weird eyes. He forgot about it, how on earth did he forget? Despite this, he found himself shaking his head,

‘No. Not that I’m aware of anyway,’ he doesn’t know why he lied, but it felt right.

Inanna gave a slight nod, then, with a quick glance at those around him, she leaned down, her hair tickled his ear, she smelled like honey, and she breathed into his ear.

‘Keep it that way.’

Hob blinked, but before he could ask anything else, Inanna was gone, disappearing out of the hut. He frowned, thinking that he should chase after her, demand answers, then, he tasted the meat, and it banished all thoughts from his head. It fell apart in his mouth, grease dribbled down his chin, he didn’t care. He grabbed more, and more, tearing into the meat with such gusto that he attracted attention,

‘Gods, who let the beast in here?’

Hob’s head shot up, seeking out the joker. A man, barely older than him, with a face like a baby, scowled at him,

Hob raised an eyebrow, ‘You got something to say?’ he asked, feigning ignorance,

The other man scowled more, and, perhaps at being caught out, spat, ‘I’m saying that you should get some manners,’ he crossed his arms over his chest, trying and failing to make his muscles bulge,

Hob let out a mirthless chuckle, ‘Well, forgive me…sir, but, after travelling for weeks on end, I tend to forgo table manners,’ he punctuated his words with another greasy bite. Others were watching, eyeing up the encounter with a different kind of hunger. Hob shrugged, they’d be getting a dinner and a show. 

The other man scoffed, ‘You know how many of our people died bringing this food. You’re nothing but a stranger we let in, show some respect.’ Annoyance burned in his eyes, Hob noted the way he toyed with the dagger at his belt, Hob wasn’t worried, he was no more irritating than a horse fly.

Hob smirked, ‘A stranger that brought back one of your men,’

‘Yes, “one” of our men,’

‘Well, if you had kept a better eye on them, instead of lecturing about manners,’

‘I did my best!’ the other man was on his feet, Hob was quick to follow, getting in the other’s face, though the other was a head taller, Hob was broader, he refused to step down.

‘I wasn’t expecting those things, out there, they warn us about gods and demons, but they refused to mention how many there were,’ he trailed off, staring into the distance,

‘All my friends, fell like they were nothing more than toys, becoming food for those things, and that pale man,’

Hob blinked, his hostility fading,

‘Pale man? Did he have blue eyes?’

The other man blinked, until a hand gripped his shoulder,

‘That’s enough, Malcolm,’ he glared at the younger man, wordlessly ordering him to sit. With one last useless glare at Hob, he sat back down, hunching his shoulders. The other man sighed,

‘Pay him no heed,’ he told Hob, holding out his hand,

‘Thank you once again, young man,’

Hob, suffering whip lash at the tonal shift, just shook his head,

‘There’s no need to thank me, really,’ he lowered his voice, ‘I only wish I could have done more,’

‘You did what you could.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear,

‘Call me Isaac,’ he pointed at the grumpy man, ‘Him you already met,’

Malcolm glared at them, that was all he did.

Isaac pointed at the others huddled around the hearth, ‘That there’s Henry, Tony, and William,’

Hob smiled at each name, though his head began to swim,

‘There’s so many of you,’ his own village paled in comparison, and here Hob thought his 40-odd people surviving was an achievement. The people of Iron town, though wary of the outside, didn’t let fear rule their lives? All around him, people flourished, living their lives. He witnessed young couples, sharing their first kiss, he saw fathers lifting their young children high above their heads, he saw an aged woman, laughing a full bellied laugh, not caring who saw.

It was life, no, it was humanity. Thriving.

A twinge in his arm chased the warm feelings away, reminding him about his own end. It was coming, and he can’t stop it. Hob was yanked out of his reverie by Malcolm once again running his mouth.

‘Hey ladies, keep it down!’

Hob turned to see who he was yelling at, at the door of the hut, a large group of women peered in, cramped together but jovial, calling out to any who would listen. They were strong, vibrant, dressed in either fine silk or leathers. Instead of cowing down at Malcom’s words, they simply scoffed,

‘You keep it down, Malcolm! You’re nothing but a pup,’

‘Yeah,’ another woman giggled, ‘A hairless pup’

‘How long did it take to grow those whiskers?’

Hob hid his smile in his goblet, watching Malcolm turn bright red,

‘You should show some respect,’ he nervously rubbed at his peach fuzz chin, ‘A lot of good men died to bring you that rice,’

Unimpressed, the women called back, ‘Yeah, and who made the iron that paid for that rice?’

Malcolm had no answer, he turned away, refusing to meet their eyes. taking advantage of Malcom’s loss, Hob turned to women, offering his brightest smile,

‘Excuse me, ladies, if it’s not too much trouble, may I see where you work?’

An excited gasp rose through their ladies, dissolving into rushed chatter,

‘Did you hear that?’

‘We’ll need to dress up tonight,’

‘Anyone got any spare lipstick?’

Before they collapsed into more giggles, they took off, calling after Hob to not forget.

Isaac huffed, drawing Hob’s attention once again,

‘You should really ignore them,’ he poured them both more wine,

‘They’re spoiled things, courtesy of Lady Constantine,’

His words made Hob bristle, he thought of his younger sister, headstrong and courageous,

‘Happy women make a happy village,’ Hob offered, wishing he could leave,

Isaac scoffed, along with a few other men, ‘Those women? It’s a scandal having them here,’

‘Their very presence taints the iron,’

‘It’s all because of Lady Constantine,’ Isaac gulped down his wine, ‘Her and that Moodie women buy up the contracts of every brothel girl they find,’

‘Everything turned upside-down since that woman took over, she’s mad, not even afraid of the gods, that woman,’

Isaac smacked his red stained lips, ‘You should have seen the way she dealt with Jessamy,’

Hob, who had been drifting off from the conversation, suddenly perked up,

‘Who?’

‘You never heard of Jessamy? She was the god that ruled this hill before we came along,’ he shook his head at the memories, ‘This was her mountain, and she guarded it with her life. She tore down entire armies with a mere swoop of her wings.’

‘She breathed fire from her beak, fanning the flames with her mighty wings, no one could get through, then, our Lady Constantine found a way.’

Hob saw it all in his mind. That godly raven, desperately fighting to save her home, her massive black wings framed by the night sky, moonlight glinting off her sharp beak. fighting to keep the humans from cutting down her trees, only to be felled by a human. Poisoned and chased her off her land.

Hob saw it all, and it hurt. His arm burned, sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to keep in his anger,

Isaac blinked, taking in his demeanour, ‘Young man, are you alright?’

Pain surged through his arm, shooting up and down,

‘Is your arm bothering you?’

Hob blinked, loosening the grip of his cursed arm. His fingers cracked, blood flowing back to his extremities.

‘No,’ he said, voice hollow, ‘I was just thinking of that poor god, and how she must have suffered.’

Those that listened merely laughed, thinking he was joking. They went back to their conversations, not sparing another thought to the murdered god, content to dine on her carcass like rats.