Hadar reached the village at dusk, a collection of hovels huddled together on hard soil, surrounded by stony fields. The sun shone a diluted pink behind the western peaks and wisps of snow tumbled in the air. All the chimneys were dead, except for the one on the oblong building in the middle. The villagers held their meetings there, but Hadar didn’t think they were holding one tonight.
He had been here before, hunting. The young body he now possessed had worked these fields as recently as last month. It seemed the spooked villagers had stopped sleeping in their own houses, seeking refuge together. He imagined the stale air inside, thick with the smell of unwashed bodies, the sound of nervous whispers as they lay in rows, trying to sleep like frightened children while the wind howled outside. But there were worse things than storms to fear, as they’d learn tonight.
Hadar started down the narrow mountain path, gravel crunching beneath his boots, steadying himself with strong arms as he descended. It was a wonderful thing, being young again.
By the time he reached the village, darkness had fallen. A flock of crows, backlit by the moons, flapped lazily into the sky. He passed empty hovels and approached the central building. The windows were shuttered, but light seeped around the woodwork and under the door.
He paused, hearing hushed voices from within. Perfect; they were all gathered. He practiced his smile before knocking.
The voices silenced abruptly, and for a moment, only the wind whispered through the mountains.
“Who’s there?” someone called, voice shrill.
“It’s me, Glen,” Hadar replied.
The voices resumed, hushed but hurried, likely debating whether to open the door. It would be easier for everyone if they did.
Footsteps approached.
“Is it really you?” a woman’s voice, wet and almost weeping, asked. Hadar made a calculated guess and said, with half a laugh:
“Don’t you recognize your own son’s voice, mother?”
The door cracked open, and a watery blue eye peered out. He felt the tension of everyone inside holding their breath. The woman’s eye twitched, and then she flung the door wide, wrapping herself around his neck, sobbing against his ear.
He smiled, patting her back.
“There, there. Everything’s going to be all right, mother,” he lied.
The villagers crowded at the door, crying and praising the gods. An old man with a grey face touched his arm, as if to make sure the boy he knew as Glen was really there.
Glen’s mother let go, stroking his face with rugged palms, lips trembling, her eyes radiant with joy.
“You came back to me. I knew the gods couldn’t be that cruel. You’re back with us, my son, and I’ll never lose you again.”
They led him to a long table near the firepit, where Glen’s mother placed a bowl of watery soup before him, urging him to eat. The villagers huddled around as he dipped a wooden spoon into the soup. Potato and cabbage by the looks of it.
“Where have you been?” Glen’s mother asked.
“Did you see Mejka?” a man with a patchy beard and desperate eyes asked.
“I did not,” Hadar replied.
“Or Heli?” a woman asked. “She disappeared the week after you.”
Hadar shook his head.
“But where have you been?” Glen’s mother pressed. “When I went to your house that dreadful morning, the door was open, the table overturned, and your blankets on the floor.”
She sobbed again, rubbing his shoulder as she did. Hadar spooned the soup, realising he was hungrier than he’d thought. This young body needed far more food than his old, broken one had.
Across the table sat a girl with milky white skin and intense red hair, about Glen’s age. She watched him with a suspicious frown. Hadar assumed she and Glen had known each other, and that they had known each other well. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back.
Hadar glanced around at the gathered villagers.
“I was abducted by an evil mage.”You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Gasps filled the room, and hands covered mouths.
“An evil mage?” Glen’s mother repeated, her eyes wide with fear.
“Yes, a foul necromancer, a collector of souls. He kept me in an abandoned fortress high in the mountains.”
“And you didn’t see anyone else there?” the man with the patchy beard pressed.
Hadar shook his head again.
“But why?” an older woman with a woollen scarf asked. “What did he want with you?”
“He wanted my soul, to kill me. If not for a good friend who helped me escape, I’d still be up there.”
“Who was this friend?” the man with the beard asked, eyes narrowing. “You just said you didn’t see anyone. Was he one of ours?”
Hadar smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet him soon enough. He’s on his way and should be knocking any time now.”
Glen’s mother stroked his arm again.
“But, Glen, who is he? Is he someone we know?”
“Don’t call him that,” the red-haired girl interrupted, her green eyes hard as glass.
“Call him what?”
“Glen,” she said. “He’s not Glen. He might look like him and sound like him, but listen to his words. He’s <i>not</i> Glen.”
Glen’s mother gave a shrill laugh, rubbing his arm.
“Don’t be silly, girl. Of <i>course</i> he’s Glen!”
The girl locked eyes with him, her mouth a bloodless line.
“What is my name?”
Hadar smiled, then laughed.
“Well, <i>braaavo</i>.” He clapped slowly, his applause echoing in the tense silence. “<i>Braaavo.</i> Head on straight with the young one over there.”
“Say her name,” Glen’s mother urged, laughing nervously. “Just <i>tell</i> her, Glen. Make her stop saying these awful things about you.”
Hadar chuckled, turning to her.
“I don’t think I can, Mum.”
Glen’s mother paled, and a low murmur spread around the table.
“You’re tired. Exhausted, even. You need a night’s rest and tomorrow everything will be well.”
“You can’t say my name because you don’t know it!” the girl screamed, rising. “Whatever happened, you wouldn’t forget me. You’re not Glen, demon!” She pulled a knife and pointed it at him. “Do you even know the name of the woman next to you – your mother?”
Hadar met Glen’s mother’s pleading eyes and shook his head, still smiling. “I must confess, I cannot.”
People rose from the benches, eyes wild with fear as the truth dawned on them. Their murmuring edged toward screams, then three heavy thuds on the door silenced them.
“There’s my friend now,” Hadar said. “Why don’t you fine folks let him in?”
“No! Don’t open it!” the red-haired girl shouted, her knife trembling in her hand.
“If you didn’t want him here,” Hadar grinned, spreading his hands, “you really should have locked the door.”
The doorknob began to turn. The villagers froze, staring at it.
Then the door swung open.
In the doorway stood the hooded hulk that had once been Hadar, its face burned to a snarling mask, eyes milky white. A young boy screamed, a high-pitched wail rising until it cracked. The red-haired girl stared, knife trembling in her hand.
“By the gods,” the man with the patchy beard mumbled, backing away.
Pandemonium erupted. The villagers screamed, clawing at each other to escape, but there was only one door, and the Seed already stood in it. As it entered, desperation spiked, and some fell to their knees, pleading to the gods. Glen’s mother clung to Hadar’s arm, her clawing frantic.
“Please stop it! Please! My son!”
Hadar ignored her, his focus on the Seed. He knew what would come next, but he had yet to see it for himself.
The Seed halted, leaned forward, and opened its mouth. Hadar leaped over the table, knocking the red-haired girl to the floor. Her knife spun away with a faint scrape against the wood. He jerked her to her feet, clamping his hand over her mouth.
“Mpfh!” she uttered, wriggling and trying to kick back at his knee.
Her teeth bit into his palm, but he ignored the pain and pressed her closer, hissing in her ear, “I’m doing you a favour, girl. Just watch.”
The Seed’s mouth opened, not naturally, but as if cracked apart, unhinged like a snake’s jaws. Its eyes narrowed to slits, then it spewed a dense cloud of flies. A vibrant buzzing filled the room. The girl went limp in his grip, her jaw slack. Villagers shrieked as the flies formed writhing tendrils, darkening the room. Their screams faded to coughs and whimpers as they sank to the floor, clawing at their throats, mouths wide open.
Hadar watched with excitement, shuffling sideways with the girl to get a better view of the man with the patchy beard. He lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, one leg kicking feebly, his face covered in a glistening mass of flies crawling into his mouth. After a moment, the flies fell silent and dropped. The Seed straightened, its mouth closing, expression blank.
The girl stirred, hot tears wetting Hadar’s hand. He removed it but held her in place, forcing her to look at the villagers on the floor.
“I spared you this,” he said. “You have a more important task. You will receive the smoke, not the flies.”
“You demon! Why did you kill them?” she cried.
“I haven’t killed them. I’ve given them immortality, made them part of something greater – a part of <i>me</i>.”
“You’re mad,” she said, anger hardening her voice. “You think you’re some kind of god, but you’re not. You’re just mad. Now, let me <i>go</i>!”
“Wait,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s happening. These are second-generation seeds. It won’t take long. Any time now.”
As if on command, the bodies began to stir, limbs rustling through the dead flies. Glen’s mother was closest to them. Her doughy face tensed, started twitching like the face of a sleeping cat. Her fingers tapped and rattled against the floor as if playing some morbid tune on a clavier. The girl stopped breathing in his arms.
Glen’s mother sprang her eyes open.
They were completely black, as if injected with ink.
“Oh, by the gods,” the girl said with a shudder, all her feisty strength gone. “Please let this nightmare end.”
“As you wish, my dear,” Hadar grunted, spinning her around.
He pressed his lips to hers and exhaled the smoke. Her body stiffened, chest rising before she staggered back, wiping her mouth with disgust. Then her shoulders relaxed as the tension drained away. She looked up through strands of red hair, and she smiled.
“We did well,” she said. “This body is perfect for our objectives.”
“It is. Now make haste. You know what to do.”
The Seed grunted from the doorway.
“Yes, you and I have other things to take care of, more seeds to plant. Mount your beast and head for the plains.”