The Seraph’s Deceit

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

Nathan was confused; no one had lived in the old Caretaker’s Cabin since the new buildings at Camp Hagios were constructed roughly 30 years ago. The weekly summer camp speakers sometimes stayed there if they didn’t bring any camping gear of their own, but they always seemed to get better sleep if they stayed somewhere else. He could only remember one camp speaker who chose to stay there last year, and the guy only lasted three nights. By the last night, the man was so haggard that he just pitched a tent outside in an effort to get some much-need rest. Either way, it was a Saturday night and the next speaker wasn’t due to arrive until Monday afternoon with the new batch of campers. So even if the next one was a brave soul, there was no reason for anyone to be in there.

When the Forest Service came to Camp Hagios for a surprise inspection three decades ago, they told the camp director that he needed to either completely renovate the old cabins to meet new safety codes or just build entirely new structures if he wanted to continue hosting summer camp. The cheaper option was clearly renovating the older buildings, but the director had insisted that they weren’t to be touched; something about “tradition” and “the Old Ways.” The board uncharacteristically pushed back, citing an overdue need to modernize the camp. After much deliberation, their compromise with the director was to replace the old barracks with a more modernized dormitory and build two larger homes for a Camp Director and a Maintenance Lead, but the Caretaker’s Cabin would be left as-is. He seemed content with this decision; there was a provision in the Forest Service’s directive that meant the old cabin didn’t need to be bulldozed if it wasn’t brought up to code, but rather classified as a “historical structure” so long as there were strict occupancy limits. The Director had taken this precaution to an extreme, outright banning any of the campers or the staff from entering the old cabin unless explicitly told to do so by him and him alone.

The staff who were there before the new buildings were erected slowly phased out and got replaced by fresher employees. Eventually, it just became common knowledge that no one went to the Caretaker’s Cabin; it merely served to add that rustic, woodsy ambiance the camp was known for. Even the old camp director left around eight years ago, although his departure seemed somewhat abrupt from the outside. The board quickly hired a new director to take his place and he seemed eager to comply with their requests for the camp and further modernized the buildings of his own volition. He replaced the inefficient wood stoves in the new buildings with gas furnaces, added Wi-Fi to the director and maintenance houses, and even installed a heated floor in the chapel (that admittedly didn’t seem to work very well). However, for whatever reason, he also insisted that the Caretaker’s Cabin remain a “historical structure,” which the board begrudgingly permitted.

The lack of maintenance on the building had left it wanting, however; the once-quaint log structure had fallen into a state of extreme disrepair. The wood finish had worn away over years of heavy snow and rain, and the foundation had slowly shifted and cracked. It appeared as if it might collapse at any moment for the past decade and the maintenance team endlessly petitioned the new camp director to renovate it into a useable structure once again. He was adamant that the previous director’s wishes be upheld. Honestly, anyone measuring it would have a hard time finding a level surface at this point.

In fact, after a particularly difficult hike towards Tent Town just above the camp earlier that day, Nathan had risked sitting on the front deck to take a break after a long hike. He was in charge of taking campers on “adventure hikes” and it had become his tradition to scout out potential new paths each weekend. This weekend he wanted to explore more of the area north of camp. This route inevitably took him directly past the old Caretaker’s Cabin on his way back and he chose to collapse onto the deck, leaning against the once-crimson front door. He poured his water bottle a little too fervently and the fluid rushed beyond the corners of his mouth, running down his face and drenching his lime green outdoor t-shirt. He rushed to screw the cap back on and carelessly set the water bottle on its side. Immediately it rolled away faster than it should have given the deck’s apparent slope, almost as if it was trying to escape from the abandoned domicile. He hopped off and scrambled after it, cursing and kicking up dust from the path that clung to the new moisture on his shirt.

The sticker-coated water bottle came to an abrupt stop under a dusty running shoe and Nathan almost collided with the person that stopped its trajectory. Instead, he tripped and caught himself by his palms in the gravel just in front of the water bottle, at the feet of the individual. He looked up, but they were backlit by the intense summer sun and he was initially unable to make out their features beyond an outstretched hand. Nathan took it, lifting himself up and saw that it was Marc, a fellow counselor and the camp sports leader.

“Whoa there, Nathan! What are you doing all the way up here?” Marc said with a smirk splayed out across his smug-yet-handsome face.

Nathan brushed his hands off on his rough denim and winced at a sensation of pins and needles. “Just scouting out new potential paths for next week’s adventure hikes.”

Marc looked down at his own hand, and then to Nathan’s. He furrowed his brow and responded, “I don’t know, you might just want to stick to the Plum Creek path across the highway; it’s more scenic and judging by your hands, less dangerous.”

Nathan looked down; in his adrenaline he hadn’t yet noticed that two large pieces of gravel had lodged themselves into his skin at the base of his palms and warm blood had begun running down his hands.

“Yeah, I guess I should go clean this up.”

Marc chuckled, “cleanliness is next to godliness!”

Embarrassed, Nathan scooped up his water bottle and rushed down the hill toward the nurse’s station in the corner of the Dining Hall. Just before he crossed the small creek that ran through the camp, however, he paused and looked back. He realized he hadn’t asked Marc what he was doing up there too, but the other counselor was nowhere to be seen. The ramshackle Caretaker’s Cabin sat on the hillside alone.

---

Nathan was sitting on the balcony of the dormitory after a nap when he noticed the flickering candle in the lone second-story window of the Caretaker’s Cabin. His palms were still raw, but the camp nurse, Mitch, had done a pretty decent job of patching him up. When he heard that Nathan was hiking up by the old cabin Mitch chastised him, saying “there aren’t any good trails up there anyways – maybe try heading towards Sibylla Lake instead.” He then disinfected Nathan’s wounds, applied some gauze and quickly wrapped his palms in medical tape before telling him to “be more careful” and rushed out the door, saying something about heading into town for supplies for the upcoming week. Nathan had meandered back to the dorms and up the long flight of stairs to his room in a daze, sore from his hike and his fall. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his dust-caked t-shirt before collapsing into his bunk bed for several hours and by the time he awoke, it was already dark out.

He had just gone outside for some fresh air, but the mysterious light peaked his insatiable curiosity. He took a sip of crisp mountain water from his now-scratched water bottle, slipped into his sandals, and quietly started down the exterior dormitory staircase. The camp seemed eerily quiet; the creek still babbled, but it was as if the surrounding willows were suffocating its song. This made the creak of each wooden step all the more deafening – maybe it was time to think about renovating the new buildings too. He reached the lamp at the bottom of the steps near the boy’s bathroom and his path turned to that all-too-familiar gravel. As it crunched underfoot, he rubbed his tender hands together and decided to stay off the designated paths in silent protest. This also meant he would be avoiding the safety the lamps’ light provided, but he had snuck through the willows countless times during Camp Hagios’s infamous nighttime capture the flag games and wasn’t too concerned. They seemed innocuous, but stood over seven feet tall and could conceal grizzly bears and moose, let alone a man standing up straight. The larger wildlife generally weren’t too active around the camp at night, and he would be able to hear them well enough in the event that they were behaving uncharacteristically. He crept off the path and out of the light into the dense willows surrounding the creek.

Nathan had always enjoyed the small paths that naturally formed between each cluster of branches; most people didn’t even notice the gaps between the bushes, let alone explore the hidden areas they led to. Whenever he needed to get away from unruly campers or his own thoughts, Nathan knew these hidden nooks would provide the solace he sought. He followed the gentle paths around each bush, occasionally getting down on hands and knees to avoid causing a disturbance by brushing particularly low branches. As he stepped out to cross the creek in the midst of the willows, he heard the cursed sound of gravel adjusting underfoot on the path to his right. Panicked, he snapped his head in that direction to assess the potential threat, but saw that it was a tall, slender silhouette of a human rather than a dangerous woodland creature. Unfortunately, this knocked him off balance and he slipped, his right sandal splashing into the rushing water of the creek. Frozen, he watched as the looming silhouette jerked its head in his direction, mirroring his threat assessment. He nearly called out to the person to let them know it was alright, but he also wasn’t sure how he’d explain why he was crawling around in the willows at night. Rather than hurrying along its way, however, the silhouette suddenly lurched in his direction, running at him and callously snapping the branches in its path.

Fortunately, someone called out and the silhouette stopped its reckless charge.

“Judah, is that you?” the voice belonged to Marc, although it was more subdued than his usual bombastic countenance.

“Yes,” the now-identified Judah begrudgingly hissed back. “I thought I heard something in the creek.”

Relaxing and getting closer to his usual demeanor, Marc said, “it’s probably just a frog – some of the campers might have brought a few back from Sibylla Lake with Carson. Let’s get up to CT before someone sees us – I think everyone else is already there.”

“That’s illegal. If the Forest Service catches wind, they’ll come poking around again. My dad wouldn’t appreciate that,” Judah retorted as he trudged back through the bramble.

“…and this isn’t against the law?” Marc questioned softly.

Judah’s response was immediate and aggressive.

“It shouldn’t be.”

Back on the gravel path and at the edge of the lamp light, Nathan could now see Judah clearly through the willow branches. Judah Harbin was easily six and half feet tall and had a ragged, tawny beard; he was truly the spitting image of his father, offset by a few decades and shades of gray. His father was the new Camp Director and had hired Judah and his brothers in a rich display of nepotism. Even the Harbin’s friends were granted gainful employment, Marc chief among them. Nathan couldn’t help but recoil at the thought of the situation. While he, Mitch, Carson and about half of the other staff members had attended Camp Hagios since they were able to go with the youngest group and worked their way up to become counselors, the Harbins and their friends were all immediately brought on to the team as soon as Trevor Harbin was made the new Camp Director, despite being outsiders. It had always seemed unfair to Nathan, but he never bothered to say anything about it.

Judah and Marc began a hurried jaunt up the path to the Caretaker’s Cabin as Nathan slowly pulled his foot from the cold water. By this point it was almost numb, which made traversing the terrain slightly more difficult. As he progressed toward the lone cabin with its alluring light (was it getting brighter?), he watched his two coworkers make their way up the front deck he had sat on earlier that day. They reached the front door and pulled, its rusty hinges groaning as they twisted from their resting position. Judah was the first to disappear. Marc paused, looking over his shoulder before quickly ducking in after his colleague and pulling the door behind him.

After further crawling, Nathan reached the edge of the willows and feeling had returned to his foot some, although his sandal was still wet. There was a group of pine trees he could stay underneath to remain hidden but would need to venture into the light to make his way up the deck itself. Did he even want to do this anymore? Judah and Marc seemed to indicate that whatever was going on in there could be illegal, and he was wary of that prospect. He looked up at the second story window but could not see beyond the radiance of the candle; it waved and pulsed, lulling him into a false sense of security like a moth to a flame. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and rushed to the edge of the trees’ shadow.

Nathan snuck into the lamp light before the cabin, taking care not to disturb the gravel this time. He reached out for the rough guard rail of the deck and noticed his bandages. Crawling around by the creek had left them soiled and damp and blood had begun soaking through the wraps in the bottom center of his palms. His shirt had only gotten grimier as well, smudges of mud pairing nicely with the dried dust. Choosing to forgo the guard rail in an effort avoid a nasty splinter, he slowly tiptoed up the steps, each one sounding off the tiniest squeak as his weight was applied and lifted. As he reached the door, he noticed that it wasn’t latched; apparently Marc hadn’t fully closed it in his haste to follow Judah. Nathan gingerly pulled it open, trying to mitigate the old joints’ jarring tunes. Once the opening was wide enough to squeeze through, he slipped in, facing outward and pulling the wooden door shut behind him with a small click.

The door now closed, Nathan turned and took in his surroundings: no one was here. It was dark, but he could make out a small kitchen to the left with a circular dining table, an old couch to his right, and the start of a narrow flight of switchback stairs leading to the second floor in the center. He looked to the couch and upon further inspection, the fabric was covered in dark stains and tears. The cushions began to writhe as he looked on with apprehension. Through one of the gashes, a group of mice burst through and ran to the other side of the couch before disappearing into another rip in the cotton. Nathan shuddered and crept forward to the base of the stairs.

Nathan could hear the faint murmur of conversation as he started his ascent. To his surprise, they were far less creaky than the ones on the deck. As he rounded the corner of the switchback, he noticed an orange glow emanating from the crack under the door at the top of the staircase and the murmur developed into a more rhythmic tone. After some processing he realized it wasn’t conversation but a deep, ethereal chanting. When he was about three quarters of the way up the stairs and the bright beam passed over his eyes, the dissonant chorus came to an abrupt stop. Nathan paused at the last step as Judah’s raspy baritone suddenly proclaimed, “as our fathers and their fathers once did, we offer this life as penance for our transgressions.”

A quick slashing noise followed, and then an animalistic scream erupted from the room that quickly fell silent with a wet thud.

Nathan waited with his hand over his mouth, but there was no further sound from the room. He took a step backwards, but the stairs were no longer as muffled as they had been on his climb and let out a deafening croak. Without warning, the door burst open and he was blinded by the flood of light into his retinas. He turned, sprinting down the down the stairs and taking the switchback with a deft pivot. He could hear a storm of feet and shouts behind him, but was determined to reach the safety of the woods and made a mad dash for the front door. To his horror, the front door had been locked behind him. Maybe Marc had left it unlatched for a reason. As he desperately shook the handle to escape, a swarm of hands grabbed at him, pulling him in by his hair and dragging him back towards the staircase. Something hard struck him on the side of the head and just before he blacked out, he noticed dark liquid dripping through the ceiling above his head.

---

Nathan awoke, a blunt pain in his left temple forcing his return to the present from the void of unconsciousness. He looked around and noticed the candle sat on the nearby windowsill, its flicker intensely waggling. He desperately attempted to touch the side of his head, but was met with the resistance of a roughhewn rope; his injured hands were bound behind him. In the center of the room sat a small pile of wood and the source of the shrieks that had startled him; a young doe was splayed out, its head twisted at an unnatural angle and its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Its eyes were cloudy, bulbous flies touching down on their unblinking surfaces before lazily humming around the beast. Its throat was clearly split open, blood pooling on the floorboards beneath its head and disappearing into the cracks between them. Nathan let out a pained cry, but the pitiful sound was muffled by a gag that had been callously shoved into his mouth and firmly tied in place.

The small sound was enough to rouse his captors, and a group of them approached him from the shadow of the room. They were robed and hooded with a tall, gaunt figure leading the group. As they drew near, an unmistakable wispy beard poked out from the darkness of the leader’s cowl.

“So he wakes. You should not have come here, Nathan.”

Judah’s unmistakable groan rolled out as he peeled back his hood, revealing a tousle of auburn hair and strange, rust colored markings on his face. “We are protecting the future of this camp.”

As the group came to a stop in a semicircle around him, Nathan noticed the tips of blue athletic shoes poking out from the bottom of the nearest figure’s robes; he looked up and could just make out Marc’s features, a worried look displayed on his also painted face. He made eye contact with Nathan and stepped forward.

“What should we do with him? He’s already seen too much,” Marc whispered to Judah.

“What should we do with him, indeed,” Judah responded darkly. He looked over Nathan, pondering their predicament before exclaiming, “I will offer you a choice, Nathan.”

The rest of the group shuffled nervously as Judah took a breath before launching into a speech.

“This camp was once under the protection of higher powers. However, over time we have strayed from the Path, and the Old Ways are all but forgotten. The sins of the many can be covered by the blood of the few; the Ancients knew this. Through the efforts of the board, this camp has lost its way, despite the counterefforts of my father and the director before him. The Caretaker did more than just watch the grounds in the off-season; he ensured the safety of this camp through painful sacrifice. Sin has a price, and he paid it tenfold to secure our future. The bill has come due again, and we must return to the Old Ways if we are to continue residing on these Hallowed Grounds.”

Judah paused, allowing Nathan to take in this new information. It would inform his answer to Judah’s next question.

“I offer you this choice; you may join our ranks, devoting yourself to the Old Ways, or you may leave, vowing never to return to this mountain.”

Before Nathan could offer his response, a loud voice erupted from the window behind the group.

“NO.”

The group flinched, backing up and parting to reveal the candle; its flame was now bent at a right angle, as if a great wind were occupying the room despite the eerie stillness of the air.

Rather than going out, the flame grew in size and brightness; a wave of heat washed over the room as it unfurled and sweat began to drip down Nathan’s face. The ominous glow contorted unnaturally, writhing and twisting. Paralyzed, Nathan had a hard time making sense of what he was seeing; one moment there were faces in the fire, then all features but the eyes rapidly faded into darkness. The eyes began to simultaneously multiply, grow and rotate, their bright gazes piercing into his soul from all angles. Many great wings spanned out from behind it then folded inward, covering the horrifying eyes with their fans. They melded into one form as several faces rematerialized in the center; the bulk of the flame snaked back to the candle in a point and Nathan thought there might be the glimmer of scales in the midst of it all.

As its unknowable form loosely stabilized but still subtly and randomly shifted, the remaining faces spoke in tandem.

“HE WILL NOT JOIN YOU. I HAVE SEEN HIS HEART. HE WOULD REVEAL THINE SACRED RITE AND END THINE HOLY MISSION. YOU MUST OFFER HIM TO ME AS YOU HAVE DONE WITH THIS SACRIFICE; HIS BLOOD WOULD BE WORTH A HUNDREDFOLD THAT OF THIS LOWLY BEAST.”

The room continued to warm as The Seraph fell upon the doe, consuming it with a terrible ferocity. Nathan couldn’t tell if the being was burning the creature or eating it with its many mouths; perhaps both. The Seraph lifted with a beat of two wings, revealing a charred mess of bones where the deer had been. The acrid scent that ensued was overwhelming and Nathan’s eyes began to water.

“As you command,” Judah proclaimed without hesitation. He lifted Nathan by the elbow with a vicelike grip and dragged him towards the pile of bones, ash, and wood. Desperate to get away, Nathan planted his heels into the sagging floorboards and wildly scrambled to gain momentum in the opposite direction. The blaze of The Seraph continued to increase in anticipation as it shuddered above them and Nathan was now sweating profusely. In a moment of clarity, he jerked his elbow inwards, the grime lubricating his escape, and threw his shoulder into Judah’s side with a snap. Judah awkwardly stumbled forward from the impact, crying out in pain as he slammed into the wall beside the candle. Nathan landed on his side and looked on from the ground next to the remains of the previous sacrifice, the sticky blood cloying to his jeans. The candle teetered on the edge of the windowsill for a moment, then fell as Judah looked on in horror, jumping after it in a last-ditch effort to stop the ensuing chaos.

“What have you DONE?!” he exclaimed as the candle crashed to the floor.

“WHAT HAS HE DONE, INDEED!” The Seraph exclaimed as it fell upon them all.

---

Mitch drove into camp around midnight, his trip into town for medical supplies complete.

However, as he drove under the Camp Hagios sign and up the front road, he didn’t find the peaceful babble of the creek or the infinite beauty of the clear night sky. He was instead greeted by the blazing light of the Caretaker’s Cabin and the mad scream of a boiling kettle inside, the historical structure burning beyond all hope of renovation.