The still-open wounds beneath my armor burned like living embers.
The metal scraped my skin every time I moved, reminding me that my body was a map of cuts, burns and badly healed bruises.
The rain didn't help: every drop that managed to slip through some crack became an icy dagger, hissing against exposed flesh.
It was as if the storm wanted to crawl inside me just to prove there was still pain left to experience.
Each step was a reminder that I was on the verge of collapsing.
I advanced staggering, breathing with difficulty.
The night was cold, so cold it seemed capable of freezing even thoughts. And yet, I had to keep moving. I couldn't stop there, in the middle of that dark forest where any creature could emerge from the shadows to finish tearing my life away.
With trembling hands I took out the small vial of Incendiato match, that burning liquid I had bought days ago.
I held it as if it were a sacred treasure. My fingertips shook, I didn't know if from pain, cold or simple accumulated exhaustion.
The cap was tighter than I remembered, so I uncorked it with my teeth.
And I drank it in one gulp.
The effect was immediate.
A warm fire coursed through my veins, closing open wounds, strengthening weakened muscles, recovering a bit of my magic.
I could feel every fiber of my body rearranging, repairing itself, absorbing that energy as if it were a divine balm.
It was as if a sacred ember had ignited my insides, mending me from within.
—Elma sure sells useful stuff… —I murmured with a tired half-smile.
If that potion saved my life, then there was no doubt: I needed more. And maybe —just maybe— her mother had returned from work. I would be glad to see her healthy, running the shop, scolding Elma for falling asleep during the day… those simple things one takes for granted until they stop happening.
So I would have to set out for the Rotten Burgh.
To the east.
I breathed deeply, feeling the damp air enter my lungs like an icy blade.
The sky was covered with black clouds so thick that the moon looked like a prisoner behind a gray wall. Every now and then, a silent lightning flash illuminated the dry trees rising around me, twisted like the fingers of a dead creature.
The place was dark.
The trees rose twisted, covered in damp moss, and the moon barely managed to slip between the branches to light my path.
The silence was so deep I could almost hear my own breathing.
It was a strange silence, profound, charged with something more. I felt that if I spoke too loudly, something in the forest would answer me.
Leaf, who had been accompanying me since I summoned her in the church, moved light as a whisper beside me.
Her ethereal figure blended with the shadows, barely visible in the moonlight flashes. She seemed more a spirit than a companion.
—Hey… —she said to me in a low voice, almost a murmur— I feel that… a bonfire must be nearby.
Her voice was soft, but there was a strange nuance. Something worried. Something restless.
She pointed to an almost invisible path among the roots. It was a trail anyone would overlook if not paying attention. I followed her without hesitation, trusting her instinct.
And there it was: a small extinguished bonfire, surrounded by wet stones.
The smell of recent ash mixed with the scent of wet earth. Someone had been there recently, but there were no longer signs of life. Only extinguished embers and silence.
I took advantage of the spot and relit the flame to activate the teleport point to the Rotten Burgh.
The fire was born again, dancing in orange and red tones, casting long shadows over the trees.
But when the bonfire ignited…
Leaf was gone.
Her absence was so sudden it almost felt like a bad omen come true.
She had returned to the Sacred Forest without me noticing.
I sighed, resigned, and set off alone.
The warmth of the bonfire enveloped me for a few seconds, but I didn't linger longer than necessary. The Rotten Burgh awaited me.
Upon arriving I advanced through the monster-plagued areas, eliminating them without stopping.
Each creature that fell left a metallic smell in the air. The dark blood mixed with the mud, forming thick pools that smelled of iron and rot.
My footsteps echoed among collapsed ruins and red puddles.
Finally I reached the shop.
The silence on that street was more unsettling than any roar. The windows were closed, the candle lights were out, and the air was heavy with a strange smell. Sickly sweet. Unnatural.
I pushed the door gently… and the smell hit me full force.
A thick, viscous stench, a mixture of damp flesh, rancid perfumes and something much worse.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't of this world.
—…Mother? —I heard Elma's trembling voice inside— What's wrong with you? You're… acting weird?
My heart stopped for a second.
I swallowed hard.
There was Elma, on her knees on the floor in front of the counter, slowly backing away.
Her eyes were wide with fear, shining with tears about to fall.
In front of her… an enormous serpentine creature, with dull scales and eyes sunken in a feverish glow.
A lamia.
But not just any lamia.
It was as if someone had taken the body of a snake-woman and stretched her essence until it broke. Her skin, once shiny, was now dull, covered in dark spots, like poison spreading through her scales. Her face…
her face was the most disturbing: a twisted smile, eyes that seemed not to understand what they saw, an expression between tenderness and madness.
—Elma… ah, my little Elma… —said the creature in a broken voice, as if imitating a distant memory—. We'll be together now… you and mother… Lady Cinderella invited me to the ball…
Elma was paralyzed. Confused. Shattered.
—Mom… that… that doesn't make sense… —she stammered, while trying to back away.
But the pitiful creature kept advancing, dragging its long body across the floor, leaving a slimy trail. Its movements were slow at first… until they no longer were.
—Calm down, calm down… I'll take you with me. You'll never feel sad again…
And then it attacked.
The lamia lunged at her with terrifying speed, fangs ready to tear flesh, eyes shining with an unnatural hunger.
Elma screamed.
But I was already on top of it.
My body moved on its own, pure instinct. I unsheathed my sword in a flash and drove it straight into the creature's tail, piercing tough flesh and corrupted scales.
The lamia let out a shrill shriek, so powerful it pierced my ears. I felt the blood vibrate inside my skull. Its eyes fixed on me, filled with blind fury.
—Who are you!? —it growled between spasms— I'm educating my daughter! I won't let a stranger get in the way!
Its words were like blows. Each syllable loaded with a distorted emotion, as if it truly believed that act was something maternal.
Elma's "mother" tried to shake violently. Its tail whipped like a giant lash, trying to tear me off. The force was brutal, so much that my arms tensed to the limit to stay firm.
But I wasn't going to let it touch Elma.
With a quick movement I drew my sword and imbued it with Incendiato flames. The steel glowed intense red, and immediately I cut, burned and opened burning wounds in its body.
Three deep cuts.
Three lethal burns.
The lamia's scream became a choked and monstrous sound. Its skin began to char, and the fire devoured it from the wound to the rest of the body. The smell was disgusting: burned flesh, evaporating venom, bursting scales.
It fell.
Writhing.
Dying slowly.
Elma was on the floor, covering her ears, trembling, crying uncontrollably. Her whole body shook like a leaf. She couldn't bear to see —or hear— what was happening.
—A-aah… m-mom… n-no… —she sobbed, her voice in pieces.
I took a step to approach, to touch her shoulder and calm her, but as soon as I reached out…
—NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Her scream shattered the air.
Elma stood up abruptly, pushed the door and ran out. She fled in terror, eyes full of horror, as if I were the monster. As if the killer there had been me.
—Elma! —I shouted— Wait!
I ran after her, jumping over debris and battle remains. My boots splashed in blood and mud. In the distance, among shadows, I saw her silhouette going down the stairs to the sewers.
I threw myself after her.
The smell there was heavy, damp, laden with suffering. The walls oozed black water.
But when I reached the last step… she was gone.
No traces.
No footprints.
Nothing but echo, dampness, and darkness.
I searched for her through every tunnel, every corridor, every cursed corner of the sewers.
My breathing bounced off the walls, mixing with the constant drip of water. Every corner made me think I would find her there, curled up, crying… but no.
Elma was no longer there.
Finally I emerged back into the forest, soaked, tired, frustrated. I reached Dorothy's little house and sat on the steps, pushed by the invisible weight of defeat.
I looked at the closed door.
And for the first time in a long while…
I felt alone.
And guilty.
Very guilty.