The Haunts

On unsteady knees, Levy rose up and gazed around as his armour faded, exposing his head to the horrible, sweet aroma of burning fat. He cupped his palm over his surviving right ear, which rang incessantly. He then discovered a couple gushing wounds on his face. In his stupor, he staggered about and discovered the horrible remains of the Hag Giant, which lacked a head. Further inspection revealed that the giant's top half of its shoulders had been seriously destroyed in the blast. He had unleashed a great destructive power by touching the alchemical rings together, clearing a broad region of the witches' haunts for acres around. Scattered traces of trees and plants, as well as shredded plant matter and trash, scattered the park's cleared regions. He noticed the hag giant's surviving breast cavity, which had flipped over on its side. What was left of one of its arms flopped and jittered with irregular vitality, unable to stop him from approaching her.

The dagger in his hand did nothing when he flipped his wrist. He looked at it with anxiety. It hadn't transformed into a full blade just before the blast. It was scarcely illuminated at all. It appeared to be about to sputter out like a fading light bulb. The unnatural forces that made it all possible had either been interrupted or completely cancelled out. But, although his blade was no longer functioning properly, his own Hell-born armour, strangely enough, had started to thicken. He was finding it difficult to move. But he had to keep moving, or his body would become immovable. His legs had begun to stiffen. If this continued, he would lose the opportunity to reach the hag goddess in time. He would have to act fast to slay his old nemesis.

He noticed her stuck in the rotting giant's baby-fat flesh, clawing her way out of the huge chest cavity. She hesitated as he approached, wondering what he would do.

"Here," he stabbed deeply into the yielding skin, limping down to the giant's chest and cutting an incision just large enough for Cailleach to extricate herself. "Better now?"

Cailleach fell from the giant's chest into the world like a newborn baby. Her aged, exposed skin sparkled as it slid to the cold, hard ground. She gulped for oxygen and vomited whatever was left in her stomach. She panted for a moment before looking up at Levy without saying anything.

She knew her time had come.

Levy stood over her and bent low to whisper in her ear.

"I've waited a long time to end your reign of terror." You will no longer steal people's children and pets. You will never torment another person again, because I am here to ensure it."

"Look at you, the boy who grew up to be a man." Cailleach cackled at him after chuckling. "I assume your time in the other world moulded you into the man you are now." She ran her fingers through what was left of her filthy, long hair. "Sad, I was hoping to do that for you," the hag god shimmered as she transformed into Sheryl.

"You can't entice me with your parlour tricks, witch!" Levy tightened his grip on the dagger, ready to strike her.

“Fine.” Cailleach sighed over his hatred for her and changed back to her usual self. She knew the feeling of vengeance and how much it consumed people to the perfect boiling point. They’d give so much of their innocence to forge their hatred into a weapon. But like it or not, Levy was her weapon. She made him the hero he had to be.

“I’ve outlived everyone I’ve ever loved, and that has loved me,” She pushed upwards and looked up at Levy. “I cannot bear to take my own rotten life; I’ve worked so damn hard to get you to take mine.”

“It doesn’t explain why you preyed on others.”

The Hag shrugged, “All gods have their vitiation.”

"I waited a long time to do this," Levy said as he raised his dagger, but before he did, she looked at him and offered him a tiny pursed grin.

"You know, you and I share a lineage."

"Yeah, I guessed we had," Levy admitted, "or you're just trying to buy yourself some time."

"Aye," she said, waving her finger at him and attempting to stand, but her legs were damaged and she couldn't. She just caressed them and nodded. "Look into your heroic heart, and you'll see the truth." I, too, was once the family line's defender; I was revered as an ancestral godmother."

"Maybe back then, but now you are most filthy," Levy said bitterly.

“Oh, I will admit to that,” Cailleach cackled, “but look how I took a scared little boy and made him into a hero. Now you must do one last thing for me…”

“And what is that—witch?”

“Give me my gift!” She lunged out and grabbed his foot. “The pain of living is too much!” She moaned, “Set me free from this mortal coil!”

The drain from the Hell-born armour was starting to take effect on Levy. It, like the festering poisoned wound he had suffered, was a poison on his body. He bent his knees and clasped her hand in his. He carefully opened her hand and dragged the dragon blade across the open palm, drawing blood. The wound welled up and ran down her arm, through her fingers. Her skin, like his, quickly acquired a blue colour.

Levy flung the blade away, woozy from the poison in his veins, and sat down to pull her close. In his embrace, she felt like a lover. She glanced up at him, and they exchanged a tearful embrace. Cailleach Bhéarach was no longer a threat to Levy, but rather a close relative. For a split second, he realized she was his ancestor's godmother. The goddess whom his people worshipped, adored, prayed to, and offered offerings to. He clutched her and sobbed for the past and the unknown future. She struggled in his arms as the poison coursed through her veins and the armour Levy wore began to encompass them both. Both became entombed in an endless embrace as the Hell-borne tree armor's roots bore deep into the earthen soil.

Gilbert ran over to the clearing, followed by Corvus Junior, who swooped overhead and came to a rest in front of the large tree, which was gradually growing taller and taller until it reached the sky. Gilbert identified it as a Giant Sequoia, a type of Redwood tree that could grow tall and thick, but its bark was black, rather than the usual reddish brown for such a beautiful tree. He moved up to tap it and, strangely, pressed his ear to the bark. The Hag Giant's body had rested against it and had begun to decay in the morning light. Its fatty tissue dissolved, causing a foul sludge to ooze and pool outward.

“Where did they go?” Corvus Junior changed back into his human self as he landed on the cold, cleared ground. “I thought they would be here.” His eye caught a glint of metal, and he went to rescue it from the ground. “Hey! There’s my father’s blade.”

“This tree–” Gilbert deliberated and shook his finger thoughtfully at it. “I swear it wasn’t here before the blast.”

“So,” Corvus Junior was looking over his father’s old blade for a hint of damage. “They have to be close by. That is unless they were both got obliterated by the blast.”

"I don't believe that..." Gilbert, in his human shape, glanced all around the rotting behemoth, then he turned his attention to the coniferous tree. "Can you see that he had to have been alive after the explosion?" He pointed to the giant's chest cavity, which bore an enormous slash mark that extended all the way down to the area where its navel would have been had it been born in the traditional manner. "This area was only recently cut."

“So if that’s the case–” Corvus Junior noted the blackened redwood tree, “Funny, I don’t remember there being one of those in this park. I’d remember something as unique as this.”

“It’s growing rather quickly,” Gilbert noted with concern.

“How can you tell?”

“Well,” Gilbert got up close to the coniferous tree and gazed up. "First, this tree wasn't here because at the age it would be, it would be covered with all kinds of fungi, mushrooms, and insects-"

“I get you,” Corvus Junior went up to inspect the bark, “also this bark looks a lot like the Hell-born armor Levy wore.”

“Exactly,” Gilbert deduced, “thus, I think they both are trapped within this tree.” He tapped at it and pressed his ear to the tree to listen.

"How long do you think they've been in there?" Corvus Junior rushed up and began stabbing with his father's dragon blade, but it couldn't even pierce a piece of the bark. The sword, in fact, shattered like ice. Sharp teeth splitters fluttered around.

“Son-of-a…” Corvus Junior jumped back and glanced at Gilbert for answers. “What the heck just happened?”

“The explosion of those two realm rings must’ve had some kind of fallout,” Gilbert started removing his constrictive armor then watched it drop to the ground. “It also means that everything in this area is losing its magical properties.”

"So, what's up with that murderous tree?" Seems to me like it's growing very fast for something that had its magical properties removed by the blast, as Corvus Junior pointed out.

“But is it?” Gilbert looked at Corvus junior, “we already know that plants can prosper in a radioactive environment. Why can’t a Hell-born tree do the same with anti-magical fallout?”

“All of what you just said, it hurts my head,” Corvus junior held a hand to his temple.

“Strangely enough, mine too.”

“No, I mean this conversation is giving me a headache.”

Gilbert squinted at the young man, “humor me and change back into your bird form.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Like I said: humor me.”

Corvus junior, at first looked annoyed, and then he found that he could not.

“Just as I thought,” Gilbert nodded and rubbed his shaggy grey beard. “We are all going to be affected by the fallout here.”

“How long is that going to last?”

Gilbert looked at Corvus junior and gave him a brief smile, “I really couldn’t tell you.”

“You’re starting to age a bit,” Corvus junior pointed out.

“So that’s why my joints are starting to ache.”

Corvus junior started to fret, “Then, I think we’d better skedaddle.” He took Gilbert by the arm and led the way.

Gilbert pointed back to the redwood tree with his arthritic finger, “What about Levy? What about Cailleach Bhéarach?”

“If they’re both trapped in a magical tree hard enough to break a blade I say they’re as good as dead.” Corvus Junior started to feel the tightness of his clothes. His aging body had started a growth spurt.

“Whose dead now?” Gilbert mumbled.

Corvus Junior looked at Gilbert as he, too, was aging at an accelerated rate. “These effects better stop once we’re out of range,” Corvus persisted. “Or we’ll age to death.”

“So where are we off to now?” Gilbert gummed his lower lip and squinted around. “Why, we’re in a park?”

“Come on Grandpa,” Corvus Junior kept leading his mentor down the path that would lead them out of the park. “We’re heading home.”

“Can we have pudding? I would love some right now.”

“If that is what it takes to get you to keep up.”

— The End —