I don't know what exactly possessed me to follow the sound of a child crying. Maybe it was the echo of my own humanity, or maybe—just maybe—I was really that foolish. Either way, Puss and I, shoulders stiff and hands near weapons, crept deeper into the twisting halls of the mansion.
And with every step forward, the sound alternated between soft sobs and high-pitched giggles that bounced off the rotting walls like ghostly echoes.
"You hear that, right?" I whispered.
Puss, tail flicking nervously and ears twitching, nodded. "Sí. And I do not like it, amigo."
The walls were lined with dusty portraits—none of which had eyes. Literally. Either gouged out or painted eyeless to begin with. The wallpaper curled like dried skin, and the wood beneath our feet creaked with the complaint of something old and alive. I kept my hand near my blade, though I had a feeling steel alone wouldn't solve anything in here.
Then the voices started. At first, they were soft, like whispers you weren't sure you heard. Then louder.
"Come play with us..."
"Run away…"
"I see you…"
Puss muttered something in Spanish I didn't catch, but his fur bristled up like a scared kitten's. I tried to laugh to ease the tension. "I think we've found the right place."
"Camden," the voice slithered through the hallway like wind. "Are you scared?" That made me stop cold. "It knows my name."
"Of course I do..." the voice giggled. "You're just in time for dinner." The lights flickered and died. Total darkness.
"Stick close," I said.
"Too close and we'll trip over each other," Puss muttered.
We moved with only the faint glow of some strange green fungus along the baseboards. It gave just enough light to cast shadows, and somehow, that was worse.
We approached a grand staircase that spiraled downward into the darkness. The sobbing had grown clearer now—definitely a child. Against every sane bone in our bodies, we descended. One slow, agonizing step at a time.
But we never reached the bottom.
Because just as we neared the lowest step, something fast—faster than either of us could react—lunged from the wall. A shadow? A hand? I couldn't tell. All I knew was I was yanked sideways and slammed against something cold and damp.
I blacked out for a second. When I came to, I was tied to a chair. Arms bound tight, ankles locked down. I could move my head and barely that. The room was pitch black, save for a faint blue flame flickering from a hanging lantern.
"Puss?" I called out groggily.
"I'm here!" his voice snapped, followed by a loud tink tink tink sound—he was trying to saw through his ropes with his claw. "But I am very much not enjoying this situation!"
The room smelled like wet soil, iron, and... herbs? Maybe burnt sage, maybe burnt hair. I wasn't sure. Then came the voice again. Singing now.
🎵 "One little child all snug in her bed,
Two little hands and a heart full of dread,
Three shall run and four shall cry,
But five shall scream until they die…" 🎵
From the corner of the room, a figure emerged. She stepped out from the shadows like mist—tall and thin, with limbs too long and a back slightly hunched. Her face was a twisted parody of youth and age.
One side looked smooth, fresh, almost pretty. The other… melted. Wrinkled. Burned? Her hair was a messy knot of black and grey, and it trailed the floor like a curtain of ash.
She smiled. The kind of smile that made your skin crawl. "Well, well… what pretty little rats have found their way into my pantry?"
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.
She dipped into a low bow that seemed more like a cracking stretch. "I am Baba Yaga, boy. The crooked one, The eater of disobedience, Keeper of forgotten children. And you, my sweet little intruders, are trespassers."
Puss puffed out his chest despite the ropes. "We came here to find the children you've stolen!"
Baba Yaga clicked her tongue. "Such harsh words from such a tiny thing." She took a step forward, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. "I've given those children purpose. Better than what their parents offered. They play with me forever. They are mine."
"Let them go!" I snapped. "You're no saviour—you're just a witch with a hoarding problem!"
That earned a shrill cackle from her. "Oh, I do love when they talk big before the breaking begins." She turned to a large, rusted cauldron in the corner. "But don't worry, you won't die. Not yet at least. Not until you've entertained me."
She waved a bony hand, and two massive dolls—life-sized, human-shaped, but stitched and stuffed like nightmarish scarecrows—lurched out of the darkness. Their eyes were shiny black buttons. Their mouths sewed into eternal smiles.
"Puss—any ideas!?" I shouted, yanking at the ropes.
"I have several!" he replied. "But none of them work without my sword!" One of the doll-creatures reached for me—fingers stuffed with straw, but sharp as needles.
Then a spark crackled down my arm. "Okay," I muttered, "we're done playing your games." I focused on the fire aspect of my magic and let it rip. My ropes lit up burned to cinders in a flash.
Before Baba Yaga could react, I slammed my hand to the ground. A ripple of force blasted outward, knocking the dolls back. Puss, now freed by the loosened ropes, dove for his sword. "Now this is more like it!"
The two of us stood back-to-back as Baba Yaga hissed. The dolls lunged again, but Puss danced between them, slicing clean through their stitches while I blasted one with a bolt of lightning that turned it into a pile of smoking straw.
"You dare fight me in my own home!?" Baba Yaga screeched, raising both hands. The shadows around the room shifted—longer, darker. "I am the curse in the woods! The fear in your blood!"
"Ya'aangath!!" Baba cursed, her words turning into a stream of magic, hitting me straight in the chest. I spat out blood and grinned.
"That all you've got, you crusty old hag?" I coughed.
Baba Yaga, all sharp angles and shifting shadows, floated just a few feet above me, her long wiry arms spread wide like the crooked limbs of a dead tree. Her eyes glowed with a sickly green hue, and her voice screeched out like rusted hinges scraping open.
"You insolent boy! You think a bit of showy fire and sparks can harm me? I was twisting souls while your bones were still dreaming of forming."
"Yeah?" I said, slowly rising back to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Well, lucky for me, I'm more than just bones."
The moment I moved, she flicked her bony fingers. A wall of wind blasted across the chamber like a hurricane scream, knocking back tables and scattering old relics. I braced myself, pushing against it with sheer will as lightning began crackling along my fingers. Her spell pushed hard, but my fire pushed back harder.
My magic flared to life burning the very air around me. I dragged my palm through the air and left a burning trail that ignited like a comet's tail. It burst forward, slamming into the witch's barrier. Her shield crackled and trembled but held.
Of course it did. She was a thousand-year-old monster in a house that breathed with her curses. This wasn't going to be easy. Meanwhile, behind me, I heard the sound of slashing steel and the enraged cries of animated puppets.
"Camden! Little help here, amigo!" Puss shouted.
I spared him a glance.
The puppets Baba Yaga had created from ragged dolls and children's toys had come to life, chittering and snarling, crawling on walls and lunging at him. Puss spun and danced like a flame in a storm. With every elegant step and leap, a puppet fell to bits, but there were just so many of them.
I focused back on Baba Yaga, just as she hurled a ball of black ichor at me. I twisted away, the substance hissing as it grazed my arm. Pain flared like white-hot fire, but I gritted my teeth and planted my palm against the floor.
"Let's turn up the heat."
A ring of fire erupted around us. The floor cracked and groaned under the pressure of the spell. I raised both hands and summoned a whirlwind of flames. The witch hissed, flinging spell after spell, dark curses in ancient tongues, words that chilled the air and sent spectral hands clawing at my chest. My own magic burned them away.
We were locked in a deadly dance, a clash of ancient power and raw will. Her body morphed, shifting grotesquely with each spell. Sometimes her limbs were like branches, sometimes she towered over me like a great shadow.
I stayed nimble, dodging and weaving, retaliating with bolts of fire and surges of lightning.
She wasn't invincible. I saw it now—her spells were powerful, but they drained her, just like mine drained me. Magic always came at a cost.
I launched into a full sprint and leapt at her, fire swirling around my fist as I slammed it into the shield she conjured last second. The barrier shattered like glass. She screamed and reeled back.
Her mouth opened unnaturally wide, black tendrils shooting out toward me. I ducked, rolling beneath them, and with a shout I drove my palm into the floor beneath her.
From the earth rose chains of burning light—my spell, custom-made for soul-binders like her. They coiled around her arms, legs, neck. The chains tightened, glowing brighter as her scream rattled the mansion's very bones.
"You will regret this!" she shrieked.
Behind me, Puss finally landed a final twirling strike, cutting down the last puppet. He panted, puffing out his chest.
He jogged up next to me and watched the witch writhe in the glowing chains. Her form began to flicker, distorting.
"Finish it, amigo." I stepped forward, hand glowing.
"You took children," I said, my voice low and trembling with fury. "You twisted their laughter, turned this whole place into a nightmare. I don't know what you were before, but you don't get to walk away."
She laughed, sputtering, "Foolish boy. You think this ends me? There are others… always others..." But I was done listening.
I pressed my hand to her chest and whispered the spell of unmaking. Fire poured into her like light into glass—too much to hold. Her body exploded into ash and cinders.
But then, something strange happened. The fire flickered, sputtered—and there, lying where the witch had been, was not the monstrous hag, but—
"Marelda?" I whispered. "What the—?" I breathed.
Puss rubbed his chin with a gloved paw and muttered, "I told you she was creepy."
[A few minutes of silence later]
We stood in silence for a while. The room smelled like smoke and old wood, and the air felt heavier now that everything was over. Marelda's body—what remained of her—was just still.
The kind woman who had offered us food and a place to sleep, who had smiled as she served sweets... now I wasn't sure if any of that was ever real. Or if it was just the witch wearing her skin, playing her part.
Puss moved first, stepping over a few scattered puppet limbs, brushing dust off his boots with the edge of his tail. He gave the room a slow once-over and let out a breath that sounded more like a frustrated sigh than relief.
"That was not the vacation I had imagined."
I sat down on what was left of a broken table, wiping soot from my sleeve and trying to catch my breath. "You and me both."
There was this low creak as the house settled—or maybe groaned. It had stopped trying to scare us now that its mistress was gone. Everything was starting to feel less cursed, but not exactly normal.
The walls were still crooked, the windows were still darkened like someone had painted over the glass. Whatever spell held this place together wasn't completely broken, but the heart of it was gone.
"Think that's really it?" I asked, not looking at him, just studying the patterns in the dust on my boots. "That she's gone?"
"If she's not," Puss said as he sheathed his sword, "then she's going to need a few years to pull herself together. I may be many things, my friend, but a liar is not one of them. And I told you she gave me the creeps."
"I should've listened," I muttered, getting back on my feet. "I mean, I kind of felt it too. But... I don't know. I guess I wanted to believe she was just a nice old lady in a creepy village."
Puss flicked his ears. "And you're a young man with a soft heart. That's not a bad thing, but sometimes it clouds the eyes. Especially when witches are involved."
We made our way out of the mansion slowly, each step creaking beneath our feet as if the house was trying to remember how to be just a house again, now that the terror had been stripped from its bones.
The moment we pushed the front door open, sunlight filtered through the dense, dead trees. It wasn't much, but it was the first natural light we'd seen since stepping foot on this property.
Outside, the sky still had that weird, washed-out color, like a badly painted backdrop, but it didn't feel as suffocating anymore. It felt like something had let go.
"I don't think anyone's going to miss this place," I said, turning back to look at the mansion one last time.
"Except maybe the termites," Puss replied, flicking his hat back into shape. "Let's be gone before something else shows up. I don't trust forests that go quiet like this. Too many stories start that way."
The walk back was slow and quiet for a while. I think we were both just decompressing, letting the adrenaline wear off in silence. My magic had worn me out more than I'd expected.
The fight had taken more out of me than I let on—every spell cast by Baba had hit deeper than it should've, and my limbs felt heavier with each step. But I kept walking, letting Valor trail behind us at a steady pace, reins in my hand, hooves crunching softly over the leaf-littered trail.
Puss, ever the curious type, was the one to break the quiet again.
"You always this good with magic?" he asked, eyes forward but tone casual. "Not to say I was not impressed—because I was. But I've seen wizards hurl themselves into trees trying half of what you did back there."
I gave a small shrug, stretching my arms behind my head a bit before answering.
"I had a good teacher growing up. Not that I listened much. It just... stuck with me, I guess. Some things felt more natural than others. Fire and lightning especially. They're easy when you're angry."
Puss let that hang for a second before replying. "You don't seem angry."
"I'm not. Not anymore. Back then I used to be. At my dad, my brother, myself, mostly. Felt like I was born into the wrong skin or something. But it faded. Or maybe I just burned it all out."
Puss nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. "Well, you burned something, that's for sure." We both chuckled lightly at that.
When the village came back into view, the homes still looked the same—old, broken-down, abandoned, but it wasn't like we left if before. We didn't hear doors slamming or shutters clacking this time.
We stopped in front of Marelda's home. I didn't go in, I didn't really feel like digging around for anything that might answer the rest of the questions I had. Some things didn't need answers. Some things just needed to be left behind.
Puss looked up at the sky and gave a long, theatrical sigh.
"So, my tall and occasionally broody companion, what now? Do we find another village? Another witch? Perhaps a dragon? I'm due for a good dragon tale."
I ran my hand down Valor's mane and looked down the road stretching out of the village.
"I'm thinking we keep heading west. There's a river I heard about from a merchant back in Eldoria. Supposed to be lined with towns that actually like travelers."
"A civilized road, huh?" Puss said with mock surprise. "No haunted forests? No demon puppets? No soul-sucking witches in disguise?"
"Not if I can help it."
"Well," Puss said, adjusting his sword and hopping up onto the saddle behind me. "I suppose I'll come along until the next life-threatening encounter, or until you run out of money to pay for my meals."
"I don't pay for your meals."
"Exactly."
I didn't bother arguing.
I just clicked my tongue, gave Valor a gentle nudge with my heel, and we started off down the road once more. The air felt clearer out here, less heavy. I didn't know what the next stop would be, or how long we'd be on the road before trouble found us again. But at least I wasn't alone. And at least, for now, the road ahead looked open and peaceful.
That was good enough for me.
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A/N; Anyway, that's done. The next character to meet will be one of the most iconic and memorable characters I have had the pleasure of seeing. I do roulettes for these characters (since I dont plan anything).
Imma have fun with this next one.