The Forsaken
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

STORIES OF PAST - MELIONE’S TALE

Nightmarish thoughts produce life from within;

make us waver and our courage thin;

their chains bind the soul and the will;

until the last of us, they slowly kill.

Crystals. The young girl with blonde hair calls out; crying for help. Pleading for it. Is there anyone who will share her burden? The once-lively village stands silently covered in white transparent crystals. The faces of fear stand frozen in time for all those who may see. They look alive; they look of misery.

“Someone help,” the young girl says as she falls to her knees with tears in her eyes.

Yearning to be warmly embraced. Only once more.

“You poor thing,” a voice says.

The young girl looks around as she notices a shadow approaching her; hunched and slowly advancing with each step aided by a simple walking stick.

In front of her lies an elderly white-haired woman in rags.

Something inside her triggers a sense of fear, but she does not run; there is nowhere to run.

“It is a miracle you survived this curse,” the elderly woman says.

“Curse?” the young girl asks as she looks at the woman staring at her with a grin on her face.

“This was done by an ancient one. Alas, I tried to stop him, but I am too old and weak,” the elderly woman says as her body shakes in a fraudulent display of weakness.

“Who did this? Who killed everyone? Who killed my parents?” the young girl screams losing herself to her anger.

“Tell me, little girl, do you want revenge? Do you want to kill the one responsible?” the elderly woman asks as she comes closer.

“I will kill them,” the young girl says as she wipes the tears from her face.

“Be warned, the foe you search is ancient and powerful. For you to defeat him, you will need to sacrifice your mind and body to me. To achieve the power for revenge, you will have to suffer beyond your imagination. Can you handle it?” the old woman asks as she smiles.

“I will do everything!” the young girl screams.

“Good. Tell me your name, little one,” the old woman commands.

“I am Melione,” she responds.

“A pleasure, Melione. You may call me Ekateh,” the old woman says as she maliciously laughs.

For each step she makes, she supports it with her walking stick; one step by one step the journey goes as Melione faithfully follows with no questions nor speech until they arrive. Brimming with life in front of them stands the city of Grengrou. Children run past Melione with playful smiles on their faces. The same smiles she once had.

“Is this where we will stay?” Melione asks as she tucks the rags of the old woman.

“No. We will stay on the outskirts, near here. Come now,” Ekateh says as she continues her walk.

A humble wooden house stands upon a small hill. Her new home.

They enter. Melione looks around as she notices many plants in glass containers, books, scrolls, and other strange items scattered everywhere.

“I shall ask you one last time. Do you want revenge? Do you want power? Will you pay a toll of pain and blood? Can you endure?” Ekateh asks as she stares at Melione with a sinister smile on her face.

“Yes!” Melione nods.

“From here on everything that happens will lead you to the path you desire only if you obey me. Will you obey me?” Ekateh asks as she comes closer, staring the young girl in the eyes.

“I will,” Melione answers as Ekateh laughs.

“Drink this and your journey shall begin,” Ekateh says as she gives her a vial of unknown liquid.

Melione takes the strange flask as she stares at the liquid.

“Are you hesitating?” Ekateh asks with a look of disgust as Melione closes her eyes and drinks the liquid in one gulp.

Her eyes grow heavy as her legs quiver; she looks at her hands as the world turns to darkness.

Crystals! A dream of crystals. She knows not it is a dream, for she is dreaming for the first time. She runs covered in tears through the tiny village where everyone has been turned to crystal. Everyone but her.

Melione wakes as she opens her eyes; it is pitch black.

She cannot see.

“Mother? Father? Ekateh?” Melione screams in the darkness. No response.

Melione feels around with her hands as she notices she is confined in a small place; around her lies nothing except a small stone wall all around, a bucket near her feet, and a small piece of wood with an unusual smell. She cannot compare the smell of anything; the only attribute it has is its uniqueness.

“HELP!” she desperately screams.

There is no response only darkness and deafening silence.

Seconds turn to minutes as minutes turn to hours; each feeling immeasurably longer than they are. Melione hugs herself in fear as she does the only thing she can do; she cries.

Eternity extends longer and so forth. Drowning her sanity within the infinite.

Suddenly, a glimmer of hope. The terror breaks as a beam of light pierces inside.

“Here is some food and water,” Ekateh says as she lowers a bucket inside.

“Please! Please get me out of here. I don’t want to be here,” Melione screams with tears covered by the pitch black.

“This is the first step. You must overcome it in your journey to power,” Ekateh says as she sinisterly laughs; she closes the hatch. Darkness descends, again.

“No! I don’t want to. Please,” Melione cries in desperation, but to no avail.

She remains in the inescapable darkness.

Cries turn to plead as pleads return to cries; so goes the never-ending cycle of anguish. Time passes slowly.

***

“I do not want to be alone,” Melione whimperingly says.

“Hello,” a voice says.

“Hello,” another voice says.

“Who is this?” Melione asks in fear.

“Don’t be afraid. We are your friends,” the first voice says.

“Who are you? Where are you?” Melione asks as she turns left and right, trying to see in futility through the pitch black.

“I am... who am I?” the first voice asks.

“You fool you are...” the second voice says as it thinks.

“We don’t know,” the two voices say in unison.

“Where are you?” Melione asks.

“Where are we?” the first voice asks.

“I think we are inside you,” the second voice says as it laughs.

“How did we get here?” the first voice asks.

“I don’t know,” the second voice adds as it laughs.

“Are you going to be my friends?” Melione asks.

“Yes. I will be your first friend,” the first voice says.

“Yes. I will be your second friend,” the second voice adds.

“What are your names?” Melione asks.

The voices remain silent as they think.

“We do not know,” the voices speak in unison as they laugh.

“You need a name,” Melione adds.

“A name?” the first voice asks.

“We need a name!” the second voice yells.

“We don’t have a name!” the voices sadly yell in unison.

“Don’t be sad. I will name you. Since you are my first friend you shall be One and since you are my second friend you shall be Two,” Melione adds.

“One!” One yells.

“Two!” Two yells.

For fear of being alone, the world has provided her with two friends. Melione is no longer alone. This could be her way?

The hatch opens again. Melione looks up as Ekateh stares at her. She cannot determine how much time has passed only feel its effect upon her soul.

“Your time down there is over. Congratulations the first stage is over. Now comes the second stage,” Ekateh says as she sinisterly laughs.

Leaving the hole, Melione struggles as the light outside is too bright; she squints and covers her eyes. The light hurts.

She stands there with a blank expression as her eyes are dim with the light of life- broken! Her hair turned to a snow-white.

“You are dirty and you smell. It is time to clean you,” Ekateh says.

Outside the house stands a tub with water as Melione gets in it. Warm. It feels good on her skin. She hasn’t felt good in a long time. Melione takes her time enjoying this rare opportunity. A simple relief after a lengthy strain goes a long way.

“Out of the bath,” Ekateh commands as Melione leaves the tub.

She stands naked in the warm sunlight as her body drips wet from the recent bath; silk-smooth and pale skin reflects the rays of light.

“We must continue our training,” Ekateh says with a vicious smile as she holds on to a whip; she swings it in her direction. The whip breaks her skin, leaving a lasting scar.

It paints her skin like a white canvas crescent with a red scar. First, but not the last. She smiles as looking at the warm sun in the sky.

This is her story.