Melissandra

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

The deep night, silent as the grave, was only disrupted by the clickety-clack within the wooden cabin.

Inside its office, desperation embedded into a man's soul; success ever evading him; a decade since he last tasted it, the critically acclaimed "The Fall of Annallul: Hell's First Layer."

The man typed ferociously, putting his every thought on screen.

But each story he started ended up violently deleted.

Frustration appeared on his face, exposed by the flickering candlelight.

The aroma and bitterness of freshly-made coffee were the only things capable of restoring peace within his mind.

Bookshelves surrounded him, decorated with decades-old books shrouded by dust, witnessing the many failed attempts of a once-promising author searching for long-lost inspiration.

Mice shoot across the dead leaves adorning the uneven floorboards, his only companions. Joining him in this seemingly impossible adventure.

The once-abandoned cabin was previously owned by Elizabeth Gwynne, the woman who inspired him to become a writer as a child.

"Honey," his wife, Amanda, said, trying to gain his attention.

No reply. Her husband's eyes fixed on his laptop's screen.

She tried one more time. "Hey, honey."

Still, no answer.

"Jonathan!" She bellowed, startling him, freeing his attention from the computer's screen.

"The boys are in bed. Are you coming to say goodnight?"

"I'm sorry, babe, but I'm in the zone right now," he replied. "I promise to tuck them in tomorrow night."

"Jesus Christ, Jonathan," she said, visibly upset. "It would take you only five minutes," she scolded him as she returned to the kids' bedroom.

A sudden idea formed in his mind. As if someone had whispered in his ear, he typed furiously once more.

The story of Melissandra.

***

Chapter 1: Melissandra

The mighty wind blew, powering the ship forward towards the town's pier. Imposing its will against the turquoise water, sending its waves crashing onto the boat.

The taste of salt flowing in the air fuses with the smell of spices from nearby towns. As the ship traveled through the waters, those on the boat heard the sounds of excited men after trapping the most impressive frost crab of the season.

As the anchor was unloaded, a young female carefully disembarked the ship, boots crushing the shingle.

Admiring what, for the foreseeable future, will be her new home.

She could hear the town's pulse as she walked along its streets.

Seeing it.

Tasting it.

Feeling it.

All of it intertwined.

The shrieking cry of burning metal meeting the quenching bucket. Traders participating in a never-ending haggling battle. Soldiers' armor clinking with every step they took. The majestic dancers, exuding elegance with every move. The overwhelming smell of piss and ale as she passed the town's tavern, the stumbling of men and women exiting it.

Finally, arriving at her destination. The full-figured woman entered the building.

An irresistible smile materialized on her face as she reached the counter, hypnotizing the middle-aged man behind it.

Her hair was dark as a moonless night. With eyes just as dark, nonetheless full of life. Her skin pale as snow. Soft, like silk. The only exception was from the tip of her fingers to her pale elbows, which were adorned by thin scales, proving her draconic ancestry.

The man stared in a trance, the broad smile still stapled to his face.

She cleared her throat, snapping the man out of his enchantment.

"Oh!" The man said. Finally coming to his senses.

"Good day, malady. I'm Hecktor, owner of the Ale & Inn. How can I be of your service?" he asked, still awestruck by the beautiful woman.

"Hi, Hecktor!" she said enthusiastically.

"My name is Melissandra. I am the town's new sorcery instructor."

"Aw, yes, Ms. Melissandra. We have been expecting you. Welcome to Hillfjord," the man said, extending his arms as a magician does after performing one of his tricks.

"Your room is ready. I hope you enjoy your stay, and please do not hesitate to reach us if you need anything."

"I will! Thank you so much, Hecktor!" she said as she retreated to her room, needing to prepare for the following day.

Always planning ahead.

Always prepared.

The following morning, on the first-day teaching in her new temporary home, as Melissandra began her class, she heard a voice apologizing for his tardiness.

"No worries," she said while turning in the direction of the voice. "We just started..."

That's when Melissandra saw him.

A tall, wide-shouldered man with ivory-colored skin, eyes like honey, and auburn red hair.

The most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on.

His name was Aragon. A former guardsman turned carpenter and wood seller after sustaining an injury to his left leg during a battle, barring him incapable of ever fighting again, causing him to walk with a subtle limp.

He had recently acquired a thirst for all things magic and sought to learn as much as possible.

Some may say that he gained that thirst as he saw Melissandra walking around the town the previous day.

On the third day, Aragon, wringing his calloused hands, a sign Melissandra would later recognize as nervousness, asked her for private lessons.

She obliged to tutor him, listing all the benefits of private tutoring as if it were her idea.

From then on, they met every day after class for private lessons.

Aragon was by far the worst student she had ever had, every spell ending in disaster. But nevertheless, she praised his willingness to make himself look like a complete fool.

Even if the only positive result was making her face hurt from laughing so much.

As a traveling teacher, Melisandra never had a permanent home.

Despite being a social person, she never grew attached to anyone, seeing it as a waste of time as she knew she would shortly move on to another town, never developing any meaningful friendships and eventually leading to feelings of loneliness. But she didn't count on Aragon being so unbelievably bad at sorcery.

She couldn't move on—not that she wanted to. She had spent more time with Aragon than anyone else in her adult life. She grew fond of him, learning despite being the teacher.

How to live…how to smile…how to fall in love with…

Aragon's dry sense of humor.

His delicious home-cooked meals.

The fashion in which his eyes wrinkled when he smiled.

The way he hummed his favorite song when in thought.

All those things and more made her fall in love with him.

Before long, they saw each other for non-magic-related things.

Until it was all they did, completely ignoring why they started meeting in the first place.

For them, everything made sense; their lives made sense.

Even when Aragon confessed about Ava, the woman he was sworn to marry, Melissandra replied, "I do not care."

Even when he told her that his promised one was expecting a child. Her heart frozen, she replied, "I do not care."

Melissandra did not care who it hurt. She did not care who suffered. All she wanted was him, to spend the rest of her life with him, to have his children, to grow old with him. Aragon's betrothed did everything she could to keep him. But it was all in vain. No amount of begging or reasons could keep him away from Melissandra.

Chapter 2: A New Life

Days later, they ran off to begin their lives together and Left all that reminded them of their life without each other behind. The couple eloped on Riverden, the most fantastic mountain on Ishmar, so that the gods themselves could witness and envy their love.

Within a year, the newly married couple welcomed their firstborn, Harow, with glowing skin like his father's and obsidian eyes like his mother's.

They made a small place in Enbour their home.

Colossal trees, almost as big as mountains, with Eden green leaves to the north; rough waters frothing and crashing to the south; low-hanging clouds covering the peaks east and west of the stone wall cabin.; the cool wind howling between the stout trunks, carrying the aroma of sweet Wildberry, alluring herds of graceful deerborne.

The birds chirping and squirrels chattering welcomed them in the morning.

This was their Elysium. Their heaven.

A short time later, the gods smiled upon them once more, and their sweet girl, Ero, was born. As beautiful as the goddess Sune herself.

They lived modestly, yet Melissandra's heart had never felt fuller.

Chapter 3: The Voice

Still, a harmful predator stalked Melissandra. The figure hid in the shadows. A cloak concealed its identity.

Bruised by the mere sight of Melissandra's happiness.

It Wondered if this could have been them…if this could have been its happiness.

Quietly inching closer and closer until...one night, the cloaked figure showed itself at the cabin's door, taking the shape of their past; Ava.

With dull eyes, the former betrothed stared at nothing; with a shaky voice, Ava tried to summon all her hatred towards Melissandra into one whisper, "I curse you." Her voice monotone, as if nothing but emptiness was left within her.

And as if nothing had happened, she vanished.

No fights, no arguments, no explanations, no apologies.

The shapeshifting beast's willingness to recapture the life stolen from her disappeared that cold, dark night.

The following day, Melissandra had a faint sensation that someone was watching her.

Blaming it on Ava's appearance the previous night, she carried on. Choosing to ignore the feeling.

That night, Melissandra heard a faint voice calling her name from the thick, dark forest.

"Melissandra, Melissandra..." it said. As if hanging from the gallows. Hoarse. Suffocating.

Opening her eyes, Melissandra struggled to swiftly move to the nearest window amid the darkness of her home.

She scanned the mouth of the forest. However, couldn't find what she was seeking.

Again, she blamed it on the strain left by Aragon's former.

But the following night, she heard it calling again.

"Melissandra... Melissandra..." it said, this time closer than the night before.

Again, she opened her eyes, sure she had heard it. She ran to the window facing the woods. She looked for anything that would give her a clue as to who was responsible for causing these sleepless nights.

Nevertheless, unable to find the culprit.

From then on, she could hear the disembodied voice slowly advancing toward her. Consistently becoming more deformed, sinister, menacing.

"Melissandra... Melissandra...," it said.

This same dream would continue for twenty moons.

Each night calling her name, inching closer and more terrifying than the night before.

One day, while Harow and Ero played outside, Melissandra felt Aragon wrap his arms around her from behind. Pulling her close.

So close, she felt his breath on her neck, realizing the arms didn't belong to the man she married.

The recurring nightmare had leaked into the real world.

"What beautiful children..." it whispered in her ear, holding her tight, her body frozen, unable to move.

What was once a disembodied voice was no more. Melissandra could see its rotten arms around her waist. Smell the foul, putrid stink of its breath.

"I will wring their necks... I will gut their insides... and then, I'll nail them to the trees for your husband to see," it said, finally letting go of her and disappearing.

In a panic, Melissandra sprinted to her dresser, tugging its handle, its contents flying everywhere.

She saw a small translucent stone gleam and manifest itself in the chaos all around her.

She took the stone and conjured a protector spell into the gem. The incantation transferred the evil presence and trapped it within the stone, causing it to lose its light and murdering its beauty.

She tied the now raven-colored stone around her neck, her heart still racing, yet every move felt in slow motion.

At last, reaching the outside world and plunging to her knees, embracing her children, squeezing them so tight, you could hear their bones shifting.

"Mommy...are you ok...?" Ero asked.

Chapter 4: The Beast

...Forty-two moons have passed since that frightful day.

Forty-two days of peace. Melissandra hasn't heard its voice since, but the stone remains dark as iron. An unmistakable sign that the terror still looms.

Another twenty-six moons have passed.

Melissandra saw the evil, twisted figure for the first time in weeks.

Lurking, waiting within the forest's darkness, although the figure remains quiet and distant. Always present.

Two winters have now passed, and a third one is upon them.

Melissandra still sees the shadowy figure in her dreams.

But, for the most part, life has returned to normal.

Harow is now eight winters old, growing into a man right before their eyes.

Ero has become uninterested in princesses or fairy tales, influenced by her father's stories of battle and valor, now wants to become a renowned warrior.

The children have had to do a lot of growing up as the pain in Aragon's leg worsens.

His struggle to walk becomes more noticeable by the day, but his sense of obligation to his family remains strong.

This has led Melissandra to scold him as he tries to do everything for his family.

"There's no shame in letting your family help you!" she bellows at him. "You already have done so much for this family. Rest. You'll get back to work as soon as you heal," she continued while kneeling to get at his eye level.

"Ok," he begrudgingly replied.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," she barked back at him.

"Ok, honey. I'll rest."

"Good!" she said, smiling and kissing him on the forehead.

"Harow, attach the wagon to the horse. Winter is almost here, and we have to chop some firewood," she said.

They left the house, bearded axe, daggers in hand, horse and wagon in tow. The smell of turpentine intensified with every step they took. The soft crunch of layers of dead pine needles and brushwood under their boots. Copper leaves from giant trees fell on their heads. Sweat trailed down their backs.

"Harow, do not stray too far. Stay where I can see you," she said sternly, knowing damn well how curious he could be.

"Yes, mom," he replied.

They found a good spot and began their work.

Chopping and carrying.

Dumping the wood on the wagon.

Making good pace.

With enough wood for the winter and the day coming to its inevitable end, she called on Harow.

No reply.

"Harow," she called, this time louder.

She heard a response, a child's scream.

Panic rushed through her veins. She sprinted towards the scream, bearded axe in hand, cold sweat dripped from her face, the thought of losing her firstborn in her mind.

As she ran closer, she could see fragments of Harow through the brushwood.

His back against the boulders, his body trembling, trousers soaked, doing his best to summon courage, wildly swinging his knife. Hoping, praying to draw the blood of his attacker.

The terrifying adversary prowling towards him, ears back, muscles twitching, tightening.

An explosion of power emanated from the beast, unleashing the energy within its muscles. Forcefully thrusting onto the child.

Harow closed his eyes, arms across his face.

His desperate attempt to shield himself from the oncoming assault.

A powerful scream caused him to open his eyes again. He saw his mother tackle the beast before it could reach him.

Landing hard on the forest floor, and rolled into the nearby wildberry bushes.

Melissandra quickly stood and grabbed her axe, putting herself between Harow and the horrifying creature.

Adrenaline evicted the panic that once rushed through her body.

She Felt a slight pain in her upper chest caused by the beast's claws.

She realized that her necklace was gone, forever lost.

As the beast rose, reeking of rotten flesh, its meat ejecting pus and sick.

Its red eyes now focused on Melissandra as it opened its mouth.

The beast's fangs and claws oozing, paralyzing saliva, capable of incapacitating its prey within moments. Allowing the creature to eat most of its victims while they were still alive. Its victims feeling every painful bite of the wretched beast.

"A corpsetigre!" she said, terrified.

"It called my name, mom!" a tearful Harow said. "It sounded like you."

The corpsetigre's ability to mimic the human voice, luring and confusing its prey, pretending to be one of their loved ones. The most terrifying weapon in its arsenal.

The beast paced, waiting for the right moment to strike. Its eyes always fixed on its prey.

Melissandra stood her ground. Standing between the beast and Harow.

Her eyes fixed on the predator.

Her vision blurred. Now only able to see its shape.

The beast's poison taking effect.

The corpsetigre made its move, determined to make them its next meal.

With cloudy eyes, she noticed the beast had run out of patience.

She settled her feet and hardened her core, her hands white-knuckled around the axe's hilt, raising it to shoulder level.

Summoning all the strength from her exhausted body, letting out a massive roar, twisting her hips and swinging the bearded axe.

Connecting with rotten flesh. Followed by a heavy thud of the beast hitting the forest's floor.

Melissandra collapsed to her knees. Her breath shallow, her eyesight almost completely gone.

Harow rushed to his mother.

"Mother! What is wrong?" he shouted as he helped her up.

Melissandra, struggling to speak, replied, "We have...to get to...the wagon."

Harow, using himself as a crutch, hoisted his mother and tried to move as fast as he could.

As they made their way to the wagon, Melissandra could hear the voice that had tormented her for so long once again calling her name.

We need to get home. I don't know what will happen now that I don't possess the necklace. She thought to herself.

They soon reached the wagon.

Harrow unloaded all the wood from its bed and helped Melissandra as she crawled on.

He hopped on the wagon and pulled the horse's reins.

As the sky turned raven, and with horrible thoughts attacking his mind, Aragon waited outside of the stone wall cabin, torch in hand.

Finally, hearing the rhythmical clip-clop of a horse's hooves reaching nearby.

"Harow, Are you ok?" he bellowed. "Where is your mother?!"

"Father, mom needs help," Harow shouted back. "She can't talk or move!"

Aragon rushed to his wife, anxiously attempting to get Melissandra to respond. Yet, there was no reply.

He picked her up and took her to their bedroom, gently laying her on the bed.

Harow told his father what happened; how his mother saved his life by defeating the terrifying creature.

Luckily, Aragon had dealt with corpsetigres during his days as a soldier and knew how to neutralize the poison. But it was the dead of night, he would have to wait until the following day and make a long trip to the forest to gather all the materials to make the antidote.

Chapter 5: Esmerée

When he returned home, Aragon saw Melissandra as if nothing had happened, showing no signs of any ailing effects from the poison.

"Melissandra?" he asked.

"Hi, honey!" she replied, walking towards him and kissing him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, still in shock over the miraculous recovery she had made.

"I have never felt any better," she said as she continued to kiss him.

"How?" he asked.

"I don't know, honey. I just woke up feeling a lot better," she replied. "Aren't you happy I'm feeling better?"

"Of course, my love. I was just terrified of the chance of losing—" he said, stopping midsentence. "Never mind. I'm happy that you're ok."

"Oh, I almost forgot, the kids and I have a huge surprise for you," she said. "But, no peeking allowed, so I have to cover your eyes."

Melissandra put her hands over Aragon's eyes, an enormous smile illuminating his face, as she guided him, exiting the cabin, towards the back of their home.

Within seconds they reached their children's big surprise.

"Ok, I'll count to three and uncover your eyes."

"One..."

"...Two..."

"...Three!!"

As Aragon opened his eyes, his huge smile faded.

His eyes widened, witnessing what felt like an awful dream.

His chest tightened; breath uneven; his body frozen in place; his head shaking, slowly swiping from side to side in denial. As he prayed to every god that the scene in front of him wasn't real. That his eyes were deceiving him.

Ero and Harow nailed against the stone wall of their home.

"What...is...happ—" A sharp pain in his abdomen interrupted him as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Both burning and frozen sensations within him.

Blood pouring from his mouth.

As he looked down, Aragon noticed a bloodstained hand piercing his body while a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"Our children are so beautiful, aren't they?" Melissandra asked, pulling skin as she removed the now crimson hand from his midsection.

"...Melissandra...?" A confused Aragon asked, falling to his knees; blood flowing from his abdomen.

"Oh, honey. Melissandra isn't here," she replied. "Forgive my manners; I should have introduced myself before putting a hole in you."

"I am Esmerée, Lord of Annallul, the first layer of hell," she said. Healing Aragon's wound, just enough to allow him to live for a few more minutes.

"A... demon?" Aragon asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, aren't you clever for a man."

"Your former betrothed sends her regards."

"...Ava?"

"Oh, yes, my sweet, stupid man."

"You caused so much damage to the poor, miserable creature," the demon continued.

"Ava was pathetic after you abandoned her. So desperate to make those who ruined her life pay." An evil smirk formed on her face as she resumed. "seeking me. So out of the kindness of my heart, I offered her a deal..." Her smirk transformed into a murderous grin. "...A fair deal... a thousand souls, including hers and her child's, YOUR child."

"What an exciting creature she was. She did not hesitate to sign the contract, nor did she hesitate to kill. Young or old, rich or poor, she did not discriminate. All she wanted was retribution for the pain you caused."

Aragon's stared as the onslaught commenced.

Attending his children's execution as he bled to death.

The demon released Melissandra from its grasp as its claws met her children's flesh. The beast forced her to see and feel how she murdered them.

To feel her lineage's blood raining on her, the stench of iron, and the metallic taste of bloodshed going down her throat.

Thrusting the misery of hurting her own children like dagger to chest.

Each slash fracturing her heart as she attempted to stop herself mid-swing.

"I TOLD YOU I WOULD KILL THEM!" the demon bellowed as she slashed them.

"I TOLD YOU!!"

"I TOLD YOU; I TOLD YOU; I TOLD YOU!!"

Each slash more violent than the one before.

Killing them just to revive them. Then, starting the cycle all over again.

Each sequence shattered Melissandra until she became a shell of herself.

"Ah, this isn't fun anymore," the now bored demon confessed as she released Melissandra from its shackles.

Melissandra covered her mouth at the sight of her family dead.

Her skin no longer icy white; now clothed in scarlet, her heart hollow.

Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to free her children from the magic still clamping them against the stonewall.

Letting out a strangled sob once she couldn't release them.

Stumbling to Aragon's side, "Aragon...please... get up!" she begged, her voice cracking, weak. "Our... children...they... need... your... help!"

Receiving nothing but silence as a reply.

Melissandra searched Aragon's motionless body, finding his dagger on his belt.

With nothing else to live for, Melissandra raised her weak arms, dagger in hand, blade pointed towards her, and with a quick downward motion, she tried to pierce her numb body.

Blood flowed from her as she waited to die; Esmerée's voice sounded out loud, "No, no, no, you miserable creature. You aren't allowed to do that." The demon continued, "We wouldn't want you to skip all the suffering, right?"

Followed by a maniacal cackling from the Lord of Annallul.

Melissandra just knelt on the now ruby-red grass, motionless, staring at nothing, her body limp.

Destined to live in suffering, reliving this moment until the end of times, unable to end it all.

Chapter 6: The lmxkeckeckce....mslwmdl

***

Jonathan had fallen asleep on his chair, his head resting on the old wooden desk. His hands occasionally hitting the keyboards on his laptop.

"Honey, wake up. It's 3 am," Amanda said as she gently shook him, waking him up. "Come on, let's go to bed."

As they made their way into the bedroom, what sounded like a child's laugh came from their kids' room.

"Guys, it's late; you're supposed to be asleep," Jonathan bellowed, entering the children's room, his eyes still heavy.

Finding words on screen bleeding into the physical world...

His children nailed against the wall.

A voice whispering to his ear, "This is the last time you dare to use my name in one of your silly stories."

A horrifying scream from the cabin followed, turning the raven night crimson.

The candle flame on the cabin's window flickered and died.

Eternally extinguished.