There's A Glitch In My Heart by @Kurjin

Ruusuja demoniltaTensecklan päiväkirja[ Yhdeksän päivää ennen päättymisjuhlaa ] Aivan yllättäen koko kylä oli muuttunut aavemaisen hiljaiseksi. Epätietoisuutta seurannut pelko ja hämmennys pitivät asukkaita tiukasti otteessaan päällikkömme käskettyä jokaista painumaan sisätiloihin suojaan. Meidän oli pysyttävä taloissamme kunnes hän ilmoittaisi ulkona liikkumisen olevan jälleen turvallista. Syytä tälle hän ei kertonut. Uskon kuitenkin, että lähes jokaisella kyläläisellä on aavistus siitä mistä tässä kaikessa onkaan kyse. Onnekkaita ovat ne hölmöt, joiden mieleen ei ole juolahtanutkaan että kyseinen tilanne voisi olla sen takana, sillä heillä on säilyvä tietynlainen mielenrauha. Itse pelkään pahinta. Pelkään kenties enemmän kuin kukaan muu. Minulla on tunne, että päällikkö on tehnyt pahan virheen. Päällikön kirjoitelmat[ Yhdeksän päivää ennen päättymisjuhlaa ] Lienee kohtalon ivaa, että historia toistaa itseään näin karmaisevalla tavalla vain juuri ennen kesän päättymisen vuoksi järjestettävää juhlaa. Mahtaako keneltäkään löytyä enää rahtustakaan juhlamieltä tämän murhenäytelmän jälkeen? Vai kohentaako tämä vain väkemme mielialaa juhlapäivän aikana, sillä silloin meillä on syytä riemuita demonin kukistumista jälleen kerran? Toivon vain, ettei tämä eriskummallinen tilanne vaikuta lähitienoon henkiin tavalla, josta seuraisi lisää vastoinkäymisiä kylällemme. Demonin paluun jälkeen on välttämätöntä, että kaikki sujuu juhlan aikana hyvin. On valitettavaa, että tämän piti sattua minun aikanani. Moniin, moniin sukupolviin demonia ei ole näkynyt kylässämme meitä suojelevien pyhien voimien ansiosta, mutta nyt… Syntinen on sallinut vitsauksen päästä keskuuteemme. Kylän päällikkönä olen kantanut vastuuni ja ottanut tilanteen haltuuni. Jäljitin tietäjä Ocironin avulla syyllisen, jotta tämä pahuus voitaisiin kitkeä pois joukostamme. Minut tullaan muistamaan kylämme historiassa miehenä, joka nujersi pahansuovat voimat ja palautti rauhan sukupolvien ajaksi. Aion varmistaa demonin vähintäänkin heikkenevän niin paljon, ettei se kykene vuosisatoihin näyttämään irvokkaita kasvojaan näillä main. Täydellinen turmio olisi mitä ihanteellisin, mutta en toivo liikoja. Syntinen on saatu kiinni ja Ociron tekee parhaillaan valmisteluja demonin hävittämiseksi perinteiden mukaisesti. Kun puhdistavat liekit tulevat roihuamaan ja kurkottelemaan kohti taivaita, pelon on määrä kaikota hirviön mukana. Toivottavasti sisintäni riipova viha ja häpeä hälvenevät niiden myötä. Syyllinen petti meidät kaikki ja asetti koko kylän vaaraan. Tämä anteeksiantamaton teko riittää syyksi vihan kytemiselle, mutta tämänkertainen tapaus on kannaltani mutkikkaampi ja täten sisältää moninaisemman joukon tunteita. Syntinen ei ollut kuka tahansa kyläläinen, vaan oma poikani Balyrym. Hän ei ansaitse enää oikeutta olla päällikön poika. Kylän aikakirjat – ote tietäjä Ocironin merkinnöistä[ Yhdeksän päivää ennen päättymisjuhlaa ] Jokainen meistä tuntee kauan sitten tapahtuneen tarinan, joka yhä edelleen vaikuttaa elämiimme. Eräs kauhistuttava olento, lajilleen ominaisesti häijy ja kieroutunut, riivasi kyläämme. Tuoden mukanaan vain kärsimystä, tuhoa ja ajoittain myös kuolemaa, demoni tuomitsi kylän pelon aikakaudelle. Silloinen päällikkö oli läheinen muuan voimallisen hengen kanssa – jopa niin läheinen, että jotkut sanovat hengen olleen hänen jälkeläistensä äiti. Lukuisten epäonnistuneiden karkottamisyritysten jälkeen päällikkö ymmärsi, ettei hänestä tai kenestäkään muusta olisi häätämään demonia pois heidän mailtaan, joten hän kääntyi hengen puoleen, anoen tältä apua kylän vapauttamisessa pirullisen olennon kirouksesta. Henki myöntyi ja auttoi kyläläisiä valmistamaan sielullisen pyhän suojauksen kylän ja koko lähiseudun ympärille. Se toimi kuin näkymätön, täydellinen kilpi, josta demoni ei kyennyt pistämään lävitse. Tämän asettamisen jälkeen henki ajoi turhautuneen ja raivostuneen olennon matkoihinsa. Oli kuitenkin varmaa, että se ei tyytyisi nielemään tappiotaan, vaan palaisi vielä jonain päivänä hakemaan hyvitystä. Kotiamme ympäröivä suoja oli muuten täydellinen yhtä heikkoutta lukuun ottamatta. Vaikka demoni ei omin voimin pääsisikään tunkeutumaan sen sisälle, näin saattoi kaikesta huolimatta käydä, mikäli joku kyläläisistä kutsuisi sen tänne. Tähän kuitenkin vaadittaisiin suurta syntiä kantava ihminen; joku, jonka mieli olisi liian heikko kyetäkseen vastustamaan olennon kuiskuttelemia houkuttelevia sanoja ja lupauksia. Siinä tapauksessa, että demoni onnistuisi solmimaan liiton tällaisen syntisen ihmisen kanssa, syntinen olisi vangittava ja poltettava roviolla. Vain siten tällainen side saataisiin rikottua. Demonin vaikutuksen alainen ihminen toimii kuin ankkurina suojausten sisällä, estäen pyhää voimaa torjumasta helvetillistä olentoa pois maalta, jolta se kauan sitten karkotettiin. Ihmisen kantamat synnit myös ruokkivat ja vahvistavat sitä antaen sille voimaa vastustaa kylämme ympärille asetettuja siunauksia. Syntisen polttaminen roviolla hyödyttää myös turmeltua sieluparkaa, sillä puhdistavat liekit vapauttavat hänet demonin otteesta ja takaa hänen sielulleen turvallisen matkan tuonpuoleiseen. Demoni ei kykene enää ottamaan sitä haltuunsa. Suren kovasti sitä, että meidän aikanamme keskuudestamme löytyi rappioitunut heikko mieli. Ja mikä pahinta, syntinen osoittautui päällikön omaksi pojaksi. Tämä tuli täytenä yllätyksenä meille. Hän vaikutti aina kunnon pojalta. Jokainen meistä oletti hänen jatkavan isänsä jalanjäljissä. Myönnän kuitenkin huomanneeni hänen viimeaikaisen alakuloisen käytöksensä. Sydäntäni painaa syyllisyyden raskas taakka, sillä jos olisin uhrannut hetken omaa aikaani tarkistaakseni onko hänellä kaikki kunnossa, olisin ehkä voinut auttaa häntä ennen kuin asiat olisivat kehittyneet täksi onnettomaksi tilanteeksi. Tämä on raskasta aikaa päällikölle. Hän rakasti poikaansa kovasti ja oli kovin ylpeä tästä. Vaikka hän kätkeekin sen vihalla, tiedän, että päällikön sisintä täyttää pohjaton murhe. Olen yllättynyt ja myös ihailen häntä siitä, että hän kykenee hoitamaan asian hänen velvollisuuksiensa vaatimalla tavalla. Kuka tahansa ei pysty sivuuttamaan rakkautta tehdäkseen sen, mikä on suuremman hyvän eduksi. Kenties jos olisin voimakkaampi, vanhempi, viisaampi ja hallussani olisi enemmän aikaa, voisin ratkaista tilanteen toisella tavalla ja pelastaa Balyrymin. Balyrymin viimeiset sanat[ Kahdeksan päivää ennen päättymisjuhlaa ] Virun kylmässä ja lohduttomassa sellissäni yksin kuolemaa odottaen. Perimätiedon mukaan minua odottaa pelastus, mutta itse näen sen silkkana kuolemantuomiona. Mutta ehkä se on mitä ansaitsen typeryydestäni… Pian koittaa hetki, jolloin ahnaat liekit syövät minut elävältä, mutta elämäni päättymisen pohdiskelun sijaan ajatukseni kulkevat toisaalla. Joka tapauksessa minä olen jo kuollut. Mitä minulle tapahtuukin… En välitä siitä enää. Kuka ikinä tuleekaan lukemaan nämä viimeiset sanani, haluan teidän tietävän, että otan nöyrästi vastaan isäni ja koko kyläni vihan. Ymmärrän täysin miksi jokainen on kääntänyt minulle selkänsä ja hylännyt minut. Heillä on siihen oikeus. Kunpa vain hän voisi antaa minulle anteeksi… Aivan… Tein sopimuksen demonin kanssa rakkauden vuoksi. Menetin sydämeni väärälle henkilölle. En saisi tuntea näin häntä kohtaan. Yritin kovasti näivettää nämä tunteet pois sydämestäni unohtaakseni ne, mutta ne olivat sitkeitä eivätkä suostuneet kuolemaan. Kiduin rakkauden tuskassa päivästä toiseen… Haikailin usein hänen peräänsä, havahtuen kuitenkin pian karuun todellisuuteen, jossa tiesin, etten koskaan saisi häntä vierelleni. Onko olemassa mitään pahempaa kärsimystä kuin se, ettei voi koskaan näyttää toiselle kuinka paljon tämä todella merkitsee sinulle? Sitten kohtasin sen demonin… Se lupasi auttaa minua pääsemään eroon minua hallitsevista sydänsuruista ja tarjota onnen, jonka ansaitsen. Se lupasi, että tulisin saamaan vastarakkautta armaaltani. En ole eläessäni kuullut yhtä taivaallisia sanoja… Tietenkin tuntien vanhan tarinan pahamaineisesta olennosta olin epäileväinen ja varautunut demonia kohtaan, mutta lienee tarpeetonta mainita, että lopulta se sai minut sanoillaan ja lupauksillaan pauloihinsa. En toivonut elämältäni mitään muuta kuin että minun olisi sallittu olla yhdessä rakastamani henkilön kanssa. Hän tuskin koskaan osaa edes aavistaakaan kuinka hän merkitsee minulle enemmän kuin kykenen sanoilla ilmaisemaan. Miksi näiden tunteiden piti johtaa tähän? Nyt jopa demoni on unohtanut minut. Vaistoan sen läsnäolon, mutta se ei ole täällä lähettyvilläni, vaan vaeltaa ympäri kylää. Luulen, että asukkaiden mieliä täyttävät pelko ja huoli vain ruokkivat ja vahvistavat sitä entisestään. Se olento nauttii tästä isän asettamasta tilanteesta täysin, eikä vaikuta olevan lainkaan huolissaan, vaikka se ehkä tietää mitä pian tulee tapahtumaan. Aavistan pahaa. Rukoilen koko sielullani, ettei se pirulainen ehdi kasvaa liian väkeväksi siihen mennessä, kun välillemme solmittu side katkaistaan. En minä tässä tilanteessa muuta voikaan kuin rukoilla… Tiedän olevani vain heikko typerys, mutta jos olisi olemassa vaihtoehtoinen keino demonista eroon pääsemiseksi, antaisin kaikkeni sen vuoksi, että saisin korjattua erheeni uhraamatta kenenkään elämää. Moputan kirje[ Kahdeksan päivää ennen päättymisjuhlaa ] Rakas äiti ja isä… Minulla ei ole aikaa löytää sopivia sanoja ilmaisemaan, kuinka paljon teitä rakastan. Ystäväni on pulassa ja minun on autettava häntä. Tunnen hänet paremmin kuin lintu taivaan ja tiedän, ettei hän ole voinut tehdä mitään väärää. En voi kuitenkaan todistaa mitään – siksi muiden vakuuttaminen hänen syyttömyydestään tuskin tulee onnistumaan. Minulla on vain yksi vaihtoehto. Mutta tiedän sen olevan oikein. Emme ehkä koskaan palaa takaisin kylään. Haluan teidän tietävän, että tulen aina rakastamaan teitä. Pidän teidät lähellä sydäntäni, minne sitten ikinä kuljenkaan. Toivon tämän tiedon tuovan lohtua teille. Hyvästi – ja anteeksi.

Garden Of RotTheir ceaseless hate burnedOur souls beyond recognition,Let us bewail and bury theseCharred chunks to the gardenWhere smothered hopesAnd broken dreams lay,Forever decaying. May our seeds of despairGrow into the flowersLike the ones standing there,Forgotten and withered,As we were never allowedTo bloom under this dead,Old frozen sun. The only thing left of usAre our ill-fated remains,Emaciated hands reachingFor a polluted sky they yearned,Here we shall stay and rot,Thrown away from the worldThat never wanted us.

(Not) LonesomeWho cares about a crawlerhiding in darknessand choking onhis own pitiful words? "No words, no worth."That's what the rules state. Loneliness keeps hitting meexcept when he,the one who holds the knife,assures me it's better this way. After all I will alwayshave some company (like him)insidemyhead.

Your Soul Is SickHe came back to his senses slowly, as if waking up from a dream that had continued way too long. First he registered the chilly air that lingered, then how stagnant and a little bit moldy it smelled. He opened his eyes and got greeted by white ceiling and walls. Was he in a hospital? He looked around the room, but it was empty, except for the hospital bed he had been resting on. He got up and swung his legs over the bed, placing them on the cold floor. What on earth had happened to him? He tried and tried, but couldn't really remember anything... apart from a vague memory of a car crash. Had he hit his head really hard on something and lost his memories? But he didn't feel any pain. All of this seemed so strange. He stood up and walked to the door. He placed his hand on the knob and – to his surprise – the door opened. Cautiously he peeked out to see the corridor, like a little mouse that was afraid of meeting a cat. But the corridor was empty, only rows of doors were lined up on both sides. On the other side was just a dead end, but on the opposite end he could see a reception room. He sneaked out of his room, his destination set on the reception room. The room fit perfectly hospital's empty theme, having only reception desk and few withered plants in the corners of the room. Strangely, there were no doors that would possibly lead outside of that rotten place. He scratched his head pensively. What would he do now? This didn't feel real at all. “Can I help you?” He flinched and turned around to see who had startled him. He faced a woman who definitely wasn't from his world. The woman was really tall, easily over two meters in height. But the strangest part was the fact that she had four arms. She was wearing white, clean long coat as if she was a doctor. “Can I help you?” the woman asked again with a calm voice. “I... I...” he stuttered. “What... What is this place? Where am I?” “Oh dear, this must be really confusing to you! Let me introduce you: this is a hospital for lost souls”, she answered and smiled a really unnerving smile. “Don't be afraid, you are welcome here.” “A hospital for lost souls?” he repeated, perplexed by her response. “Am I... dead?” “Only if you think you are”, she said. That only made him feel even more confused. It seemed he couldn't get direct answers from her. “So, umm... Who are you?” he asked. “Doctor Myriad”, she replied. “I am the one who takes care of every soul that ends up in here, including you.” Somebody's crying sound started suddenly somewhere from the corridor. It made the situation feel even more unnerving to him. “So, umm... How can I get out of here?” That question took much more courage to utter out loud than he dared to admit. His heart went wild, pounding his chest like a hammer. It felt like an eternity before Myriad answered: “Oh no, no, no. You're not going anywhere before your soul is cured.” Her disturbing smile only grew wider. “You're not leaving anytime soon. So please, go back to your room and let the healing process begin.”

The Dark Flower Will BloomA lightning split the dark heaven for a moment, only to disappear as fast as it had appeared. A merciless rain which originated from the black clouds was pouring down and unfortunate were those wretches that had to travel around that night, getting soaked by the cold water. The winds played their part too and harsh were their fangs as they traversed across the land, gnawing at anything that came in their way. The weather conditions surely were abysmal that night, forcing most folks to remain in a shelter, waiting for the storm to pass. However, in a concealed tower, built from black stone, there was a boy who was attempting to tame the storm. He was standing at the very top of the tower, on a circular platform that had no railings or anything else that would ensure the safety of anyone who would make their way to this part of the building. There were just a handful of columns that supported a roof that did give a little bit of shelter from the awful weather. The boy was protected from most of the rain, but this just agitated the winds and they were being even more cruel to the child, grasping his clothes and wanting to pull him down from the tower altogether so he could experience a gruesome end. But the boy ignored their howls and snarls, focusing only on one thing. There was someone else on the platform at that moment. A man was quietly observing the boy's movements, every single motion the child made with his hands and feet. He watched how the boy beckoned to the clouds, bending them to his will. And indeed, he managed to gain control of them. The black masses would take any shape the boy desired and in a short period of time, different kinds of entities were running around the tower, from horses to dogs, from rabbits to even mythical beasts. Never did the boy lose his focus and he controlled his creations like an experienced mage. And after watching the child's performance for a while, a slight smile appeared on the man's face. “Very good, Nokhi”, the man praised the child. “Are you sure this was your first time shaping the storm clouds? To me it seems like you've been doing this for a good while already.” Nokhi released the black clouds from his control and they were quickly swept away by the winds, their shapes mangled and torn apart. The boy turned to face his master and was clearly very pleased with himself. He had a radiant smile on his face as he gave a quick and respectful bow and said: “Thank you, master Jeskel!” “Now, let's go back inside”, Jeskel spoke, gesturing with his black wooden staff towards the set of stairs that were in the middle of the circular platform, leading down to the insides of the tower. The man was the first one to begin the descent, but Nokhi wasn't far behind. The stairs spiraled down for a little while and there were a handful of ghostly blue flames scattered around the walls of this section to emit some sort of illumination. They did contribute in giving an eerie atmosphere for the stairs, especially since they ignited and extinguished themselves depending on the position of Jeskel and Nokhi. In the earlier days, Nokhi had found these flames to be a little unnerving, but nowadays, they didn't bother him at all. Eventually the man and the boy came to a black wooden door, decorated by golden imprints that mimicked various plants. Jeskel made a quick motion with his staff and the door swung open, granting Jeskel and Nokhi an access to their dwelling. Carefully placed candles were keeping away the darkness, along with strong flames that danced in the fireplace. Countless books were piling up in every corner of this place, some of them neatly stored in various bookcases, but quite a lot of tomes that all had something to do with magic were just left lying around in a disorganized manner. Various other objects shared the same fate as books, not really having an assigned place and were just sitting wherever Jeskel or Nokhi had dropped them. This included different kinds of trinkets, skulls of small animals, jars that contained several strange contents ranging from body parts of mysterious beasts to weird liquids. All of these things together created a rather messy environment, but they also made it home for Jeskel and Nokhi. This was their little safe haven, a place where they could be themselves, not persecuted by the outside world. “You should warm up a little before heading to bed”, Jeskel said as he walked towards a desk that was almost completely hidden from view by stacks of books and parchments. He sat down on a chair and left his staff to lean against a wall. The man took a blank parchment and grabbed a quill, dipped it in an inkwell and started to scribble down what had happened that day and to document Nokhi's improvement. Meanwhile the boy was sitting on the floor by the comforting fire, his hands reaching for the flames, yearning for the warmth. After being out in such awful weather, the heat of the fire felt like a great blessing and indeed, Nokhi was grateful for having a warm shelter at that moment. It hadn't always been like this for him. If it wasn't for Jeskel, he would probably be in the streets getting utterly soaked, most likely then getting very ill. He hadn't gotten a great start for life, but he was getting in a better direction. For a moment the room was almost completely silent. The raindrops were heavily striking the windows, the flames were cracking in the fireplace and the quill's scratching on the parchment were the only sounds a human being could hear. At some point, Jeskel got a little distracted by a thought that crossed his mind and he stopped scribbling for a second. He gazed at the boy who was still enjoying the warmth of fire and he thought to himself how Nokhi's messy black hair reminded him of a raven. And just like a bird, the child had managed to soar. Then an idea struck the man's mind. “Nokhi, would you like to learn to fly?” Jeskel asked. Nokhi turned to look at his direction and Jeskel could see excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Really? You really could teach me that?” “Of course”, Jeskel responded, smiling at the boy. “And I think you will learn it in no time.” “Thank you, master Jeskel!” Nokhi's eagerness was something that just warmed Jeskel's soul. He was always ready to learn new things and he was always respectful. The man had found a great apprentice. “Well”, Jeskel said as he dipped his quill into the ink again, “I think you should go to sleep now.” “Yes, master Jeskel”, Nokhi replied and he raised his little body from the floor. The boy headed to his own living space, which was just a corner with a purple curtain serving as a door. It was small, but cozy and Jeskel had let him decorate it however he liked. “Good night, Nokhi”, Jeskel said as he began to scribble again. “Good night, master”, the boy answered and disappeared into his room. The man was left alone to write his thoughts down regarding the boy. He was impressed with his progress, especially when considering Nokhi's young age. The child had seen probably eleven summers. Jeskel himself hadn't been able to do half the things Nokhi already mastered in that age. And the little boy hadn't even known that he was bearing the gift of magic… In Jeskel's mind, it was truly fascinating to observe how the child's abilities kept growing stronger. There was no doubt about it, he could become an extraordinary individual if he continued to study magic. A moment passed by as Jeskel was scribbling his notes. The length of the scattered candles had shortened quite significantly when he was finally done. He put the quill down and stretched his arms a little as his position had been quite stiff. The man scratched his dark brown beard; though some of the hairs had already turned white. Unlike many other men of his age, he wasn't afraid of growing older, he was beyond that. While the ordinary men had to come in terms with their mortality, Jeskel was only thriving. One of the reasons was his apprentice; not even a single second of his time felt wasted as long as he was able to teach someone as special as Nokhi. Jeskel attempted to arrange his messy desk a little bit by stacking all the parchments he had written about his apprentice. They were the perfect record of the two years Jeskel had been teaching magic to the boy. Flipping through them was like diving back into the memories. And what a story these scribbles told… Jeskel placed the parchments as a neat stack on the desk. His gaze wandered to one of the windows and for a brief moment he just stared into the darkness, recalling back his earliest memories with Nokhi. They met each other by pure accident on the streets of a town. The boy hadn't had an easy childhood and it was pretty clear from the way he acted. Nokhi had told that his mother never wanted him and he had no idea who his father was. He had been on his own a couple of years living in the streets, just trying to live to see the next day. Nokhi had become distrustful towards people and arrogant as well. He didn't owe anything to anyone. But just by a mere glance, Jeskel could tell that the child was gifted; it was an instinct which common men didn't have. Of course, when the man had brought forth the idea of him teaching magic to the boy, Nokhi had just laughed at him, thinking that he was messing with him. However, after Jeskel had shown him a few simple tricks using magic and telling him that he could possibly do the same exact things, Nokhi suddenly became interested. Jeskel had then taken him to his tower; a place that was built on the same soil as the town, but it was concealed by magic so ordinary people couldn't see it. Following Nokhi's first visit to Jeskel's tower, the boy grew even more intrigued and soon began his apprenticeship. The crude shell Nokhi had put on in order to survive was shed after some time and he learned to be respectful towards his master. But Jeskel wasn't just a mentor, he had also become the father figure he had never had. The man had given him shelter, food and clean clothes and the boy had told him how grateful he was for that. It seemed like the little boy's life was finally starting. A smile spread on Jeskel's face. Truly, Nokhi was like a rare and spectacular flower, grown from a cursed soil. But despite his origins, one day he would bloom like no other and then the world would surely know his name. He just needed guidance and nurturing and of course, Jeskel saw himself as the right person for that task. The man would be the rain and the sun so the dark flower could flourish. He would make sure that the boy would learn to embrace his inner darkness and remain fearless in front of the black-hearted beings. In the following years, Nokhi would surely become one with the forces the common men misleadingly called wicked, and when he would take the dive into the depths of his dark powers and shatter the fragile border that lingered in between the being's consciousness and the hidden black part of the soul, that would ultimately become the day when the greatest mage in history would emerge from the shadows. And that was the day Jeskel wanted to see and experience. The boy just needed to be guided to the right path. Jeskel would make sure that it would happen. The man stood up. He grabbed his staff and slowly walked across the small living space. Just like Nokhi, he had his own slice of personal space as well, but unlike the boy's little corner, he had an actual room – even though it wasn't spacious, either. It was located right by Nokhi's quarters, the door to Jeskel's room was a couple of meters away from the curtain of the boy's living space. Once the man was by the black wooden door that guarded the access to his room, he could hear faint snoring coming from behind the curtain. The sound of a sleeping child… It was something Jeskel had got used to only recently. Jeskel waved his staff a little and in unison, all the candles got snuffed out and the flames in the fireplace simply vanished. All that was left were curls of smoke dancing in the dark air. The man opened the door to his little residence, then carefully shut it behind him as he didn't want to wake the boy. After all, he was still a little child. He needed his visits to the land of dreams. The time for tainting them with nightmares would come soon enough.trophy

The Candle BoyDespair and darkness, hand in hand, together they ruled the town with an iron fist. They had banished the sun, making the sky turn black. And because even the sun couldn't do it, there was no way that the moon could penetrate its way through the dark clouds. The air felt heavy and it was hard to breathe. It was like the sky itself was suffering. But it was not only the sky. Water had turned somewhat contaminated, making it taste pretty rusty. The town was also experiencing a famine, since the crops wouldn't grow without the sun. This also meant that there was not enough food for the animals and their numbers were getting low day by day. These events were giving plenty of anguish for the townsfolk, but there was also something else that was making their lives a living hell. They were sick. Tons of blisters would appear on their skin and they were painful. Some who hadn't yet become ill were living in fear and wouldn't come out of their houses. Those who were infected hoped that death would come soon and put an end to their suffering… but in vain. It seemed like that even death itself was avoiding that town. These poor people were living in a nightmare. Had they offended the gods since they were being punished like this? Or had this realm always been protected by these deities, but for some reason they had abandoned this town and so it had turned into this nest of darkness and despair? No one knew the answer. There was only fear – fear that this place had become a land of agony, permanently. And there was no way out of there, since there was nothing beyond the borders of the town. However… There was a tiny spark of hope in darkness. Some people had seen a little boy wandering around the town. He seemed pretty normal, and yet at the same time, not quite. He was pale and had dark hair and wore a weary expression on his face. In his hand he carried a candle – its flame was small and weak and by the look of its flickering, it seemed like the darkness would crush its life at any time, extinguishing it. But even though his essence seemed rather feeble, he also appeared as the most powerful being in the town. No one had any idea where this mysterious boy had come from or who he really was, but that didn't really matter. The most important thing was that he brought hope into the misery ridden hearts. Who knows, maybe he was an answer for the prayers. Some had seen it happen: the miraculous power of this boy. He would approach someone with that horrible sickness and just by touching them, he could give them their strength back. He hadn't cured the disease, but he had given them power to follow him. Because that's what he was doing. Everyone who he had gifted with strength would come along with him. Then he would lead the way out of that death trap. Those who had been seen walking with that boy at that point were never seen again. That wasn't considered as a bad thing, though. At least they could escape from this pit of hell. Of course, there were also those people who wanted to benefit from this boy, since they wanted so desperately to get out of town. But could you really blame them? It didn't matter, though. No matter how hard they tried to chase the boy, they would eventually lose a track of him – the darkness would ensure that. It could be said that if he doesn't invite you to be his company, you should save your time and leave him alone or else you will be lost in shadows. Those who are wise will wait for their turn. Because now that people have something to believe in, now that they have figured out that there is a method to escape, the everyday pain feels a little bit more tolerable. There shines a light of hope in the darkness. You just have to wait that it will come to you and then it may help you get free from the torment.

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