Chapter 7: The Prince and the Wolf

Theodora and Lucien | Created in Midjourney

Theodora

I breathlessly run toward Elwen and Cordelia’s voices, finally catching up to them near the river. The panic ceases, the energy leaves my body in a rush, and I suddenly sink to my knees.

“Thea!” Elwen exclaims, running over and putting her arms around my shoulders to help me off the ground. “What happened?” Concern rings her eyes as she leads me back over the little bridge back into Murkfell village, beyond the reach of Granny’s shining sigils.

I gasp. “I saw — ”

Help me. His voice suddenly echoes through my head.

“I saw a b-bear, that’s all,” I stammer, before stopping to catch my breath and calm my fluttering heart.

The beast’s eyes still haunt me. Glowing amber orbs, pleading. So human that I couldn’t have the villagers hunting this poor creature. He had spoken to me. So, there is still a human inside, waiting to be set free. An enchantment by that witch, no doubt. I had to help.

Cordelia sighs. I can feel her eyes roll without even seeing her. “I see you dropped your basket,” she points out, sighing. “I’ll go back and fetch it.”

“I can go, Cordelia!” I offer, untangling myself from Elwen’s protective grasp and following Cordelia back over the bridge.

“No, you’ve already caused enough trouble, putting us behind schedule,” she objects. “Go with Elwen.” She dismisses me in a huff and stomps off into the woods.

Elwen smiles and beckons me to follow her. “Come on, Thea, you can help me make potions,” she says, putting her arm around me as I join her.

As we walk into the village, Amity and Jemma rush over.

“Thea!” Amity calls out, breathless. “What happened? We heard there was a ruckus in the wood.” Her face is laced with concern.

“Did you get lost?” Jemma asks. “I got lost my first time in the Windborne Wood too!”

“Well,” I begin sheepishly, “I did wander too far despite Elwen’s warnings. Then I saw a bear, that’s all. I didn’t mean to alarm anyone.”

“Best not stray too far in these woods,” Amity advises. “Many predators afoot! I’m so glad you’re alright though! A bear! How frightened you must have been.” She gathers her basket with a wave and heads off to continue her work.

“Let’s go make some tinctures and potions, Theodora,” Elwen says, pulling me along to the apothecary.

I stop her when I spot a puppet master outside his workshop with his marionettes, giving an impromptu performance to a small group of giggling children. “I want to see this, if that’s alright,” I tell Elwen, already gravitating towards the show with a smile on my face, entranced. One of the marionettes is of a young girl with long, flowing black hair, and was wearing a violet dress, while the other is of a man with pale blonde hair and amber eyes. A quiver of arrows is slung across his back, as he wields a bow in his hand. A simple crown with a small moon on it sits on his head. The craftsmanship is exquisite. The crown is an exact replica of a Moonbright crown.

“…alone she lived, until one morn, a Moonbright prince lost his way,” the puppet master narrates, the blonde marionette coming to vibrant life in his sun-worn, wrinkled hand. The golden crest of Moonbright sits upon the marionette’s chest. “Sun and light, his magic so bright, as bright as the brightest of days…so down she called her ravens so dark to swarm the unknowing prince.” Ravens suddenly swarm the poor, hapless prince. “Taken by surprise, even though so wise, he was never heard from since…”

Now the prince is replaced by a wolf, but the puppet master stops and looks at me. “I’m just rehearsing, miss, so this isn’t the entire tale…” he clarifies. “Are you familiar with the poem of how the Murkwood dire wolf came to be?” The old man’s eyes sparkle, despite lacking any distinguishable color.

All the children turn and look up at me, then realizing who I am, scramble to crowd around me, clutching at my cloak. I smile, patting their heads, then look back at the puppeteer.

Ezekiel, Murkfell’s puppeteer and toy maker | Created in Midjourney

“No, I’ve never heard this tale, but do keep going,” I urge, wishing for him to finish. The male puppet also has amber eyes… just like the wolf I’d met in the forest. I have lived in Moonbright my entire life but have never heard that one of our princes had been enchanted and turned into a wolf. When I was younger, I remember tales of the handsome young prince who had gone on a hunting trip and had fallen from his stallion, later succumbing to his injuries.

Was that old fairy tale the tale of the same prince who is trapped inside the wolf? I wonder.

Had the Moonbright monarchy lied to cover up the truth?

“You’ll see the entire performance at the Red Moon Festival, miss,” the puppet master tells me, “but I’m happy to perform it for you now if you wish.” He tilts his head as if granting me a wish.

“We really must go, Thea.” Jemma suddenly takes my arm and begins to gently lead me away. She turns and waves at the old man. “Goodbye, Ezekiel! We will come to visit soon!”

“He is very talented. Does he make those puppets?” I ask as we head to the apothecary.

“Oh yes, he makes all sorts of wonderful toys for the children,” she replies. “You’d never know by his looks now, but he used to be a woodsman. He would take the scrap wood and make toys for his own children, then he kept up the practice even after his children were grown. Now that he’s too old to cut down trees, he’s content with just making toys. But the puppets are his favorite.”

I nod, my mind racing, images of princes, wolves, and witches flooding through my mind.

We walk into the apothecary, hanging our cloaks beside the door, and go to the potions room, where Elwen is already busy with her work.

“Is that true what he said about the dire wolf?” I wonder aloud, taking a mortar and pestle and grinding a handful of herbs. “Was he a Moonbright prince before he was enchanted?”

Jemma nod, then clarifies, “Well, it’s the story we’ve always been told, at least. We have no way of truly knowing if a prince is trapped inside the wolf. But the creature is one of Ravyn’s creations, of that we have no doubt.”

I keep grinding, my mind working just as furiously as my hands. “So, what happens in the poem? After the prince is turned into the wolf?”

Elwin looks up, raising her eyebrows. “You’ve never read the poem, or heard the lore of the Murkwood dire wolf before?” she inquires, walking over to some sprouting herbs planted in a pot. “He was a Moonbright prince, after all. Well, allegedly.” She then waves her hands over them, where they suddenly grow to full size.

My eyes widen in amazement, just as Cordelia strides in and stokes the fire by simply waving her hands gracefully in front of it.

“I have to say, your elemental magick is quite something!” I exclaim, touching the herbs to make sure they are actually real. “Very handy. Anyway,” I turn back to my work and the previous conversation, “in Moonbright we were told the prince died due to a fall from his horse while out hunting. That’s it. No evil witches or curses. Just a simple, albeit tragic, accident.”

Even the elemental magick show couldn’t keep my mind off the topic of the prince.

Jemma bites her lip, looks at me, then fills jars with water — with her magick, not by fetching water from the water pump in the kitchen. “Well, according to the lore, the prophecy says the only person who can save him is a Moonbright witch. And here you are, out of nowhere, when we’ve never had a Moonbright witch come to Murkfell village.”

Cordelia scoffed, “Jemma, you silly girl. That story is just a fairy tale! The dire wolf is nothing but a wolf. A large one perhaps, but he’s not a prince enchanted.”

My mind swirls. Something is amiss here. A Moonbright prince was lost during a Murkfell Wood hunting excursion a century ago, and now a dire wolf is stalking the same wood. A dire wolf who can also speak and comprehend language. His words echo in my mind once more —

Help me.

It tears at my heart. I then decide that I am going to find this wolf again to do my own investigation.

Even if it means going back to the Murkfell Wood.

To be continued…

H.R. Parker © 2024 All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 6: The Witch of Windborne

Her moon-gray eyes still consume me, swallowing me whole.

The way she had looked at me before I even spoke… it was like she knew I wasn’t truly a beast. Had she sensed the human trapped within this lupine prison before the words left my mouth?

If her sisters hadn’t come along, I might have been able to calm her, speak to her, tell her my problem, plead for her help.

But when I heard the women calling her name through the trees, I bolted. I couldn’t take any chances. Now the villagers would know that I had been in the Windborne Wood, despite Granny’s wards, and they would begin the hunt.

Unless she didn’t tell. But why wouldn’t she?

Feeling restless, I run up the pass to an overlook with a view of the village. From there I can see three Red Cloaks clustered around her.

Theodora. Her name is like a whisper itself, and I long to call to her again. My mind, like my heart, is racing. I am also concerned. Had I hurt her? If so, I certainly hadn’t mean to. I make a mental note to check later.

Suddenly a dead rabbit thumps at my feet, arresting my attention.

“Fresh kill.”

Granny. I turn around, and before me stands a wizened old woman, her long gray hair interwoven with flowers. Her kind blue eyes, the same cerulean as her embroidered robes, sparkle and crinkle at the corners.

Granny and Lucien | Created in Midjourney

“Hello, Granny. I hope you’re doing well,” I greet then thank her for the rabbit before sitting on my haunches to tear through the flesh of the plump little creature. Despite the human still lurking within me, I have quite the taste for raw meat now.

“You’re welcome, Lucien,” she kindly replies. “What trouble are you brewing in my wood, young man? Why did Ravyn let you out of the Murkfell?” She sits next to me on a stump, taking flowers out of her basket and weaving them together.

“She wants me to kill the new Red Cloak,” I answer in between bites, licking my jowls.

“Why is that? She’s never bothered with them before.” Granny’s gnarled, arthritic fingers work surprisingly fast, weaving the flowers into a crown.

“She came through the Murkfell Wood on the way to the village, unlike everyone else who takes the long way around.”

Granny’s face lifts, clearly impressed with the young woman. “Very brave of her,” she acknowledges. “How did she survive then? Doesn’t Ravyn kill everyone who enters her wood and then blame it on you?”

I sigh softly. “Usually, yes, but she was out of the wood that day. Not sure where she went, though.”

“It’s probably best you don’t know,” Granny adds, then notices the box tied around my neck and inquires about it. She then pokes it with her finger, the knuckle swollen. Her fingers resemble the twisted branches of the Murkfell.

“It’s for the poor girl’s heart.”

Granny shakes her head, tsking. “That Ravyn! Killing an innocent girl! And for what? Walking through her wood to get to her post on time?”

“It’s not that, Granny,” She… She’s…” I hesitate, not knowing if she will believe me. But it’s Granny, my only friend in this world. Of course she’ll believe me.

“Yes, yes, spit it out, boy!”

I hold Granny’s gaze. “She’s a Moonbright witch.”

A sudden hush befalls us both for a brief moment.

“A Moonbright, you say?” Granny gasps. “They usually don’t leave their clan, you know,” she says softly, contemplating me meaningfully. “Ravyn wants the Moonbright’s heart in a box to protect her from the prophecy.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Granny knows Ravyn all too well.

“Yes, Granny, that’s the gist of it,” I confess, before gazing back down at the village. The Red Cloaks are now gone, the villagers milling about.

“Stupid girl!” Granny scolds. “Doesn’t she know there is no getting around a prophecy?” She stands, her knees creaking as she does so. “Come, boy, let’s go find a heart for your darkling witch.”

It takes a couple of hours, but Granny and I found a boar, which I quickly dispatch. I drag it back to Granny’s cottage, high up in the Windborne mountains, where she cuts out the boar’s heart and disappears with it for a time, “To work her magic in peace,” as she always says.

I never argue with Granny. She has strange, powerful, ancient magic, but I have never seen her practice it before; she prefers to be alone.

A while later, Granny comes back with the heart wrapped in black velvet cloth, which she carefully places in the box, then ties it back around my neck.

“Now, go take that to your darkling witch,” she instructs gruffly. “She’ll leave the Moonbright girl alone, at least for a while. And then we can get to work.”

I cock my head, curious. “Work? What work?”

She grins. “Getting the little moon witch to break your curse, of course.”

H.R. Parker © 2023 All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 5: The Wards of Windborne

Theodora

The next morning, I awake late, the sun streaming through the curtains to fall gently upon my face. I smile, excited for my new life here in Murkfell. The villagers are kind, and my Red Cloak sisters have already made me feel at home here.

I dress in my new uniform, the same beige woolen dress and leather corset that my sisters wore the day before, and go downstairs.

Elwen and Cordelia are in the kitchen, a plate of bread, boar, cheese, and apples awaiting me. My mouth waters.

“Thea! You’re up!” Elwin enthusiastically pipes up. “We saved you some breakfast!” She leads me to the table where I immediately dive into the delectable food.

“It’s nearly time for luncheon,” Cordelia intones lifelessly, giving me a side-eye from the counter where she is chopping herbs.

“I apologize for sleeping so late,” I say sheepishly, then inquire after Jemma and Amity’s whereabouts in between crunches of apple.

Cordelia stops her chopping and searches in her apron pockets. “They’re out with patients, and I have a list for you,” she answers, still searching. “Elwen and I are preparing new medicines and potions today. We need help gathering materials.” She thrusts a piece of paper into my hand with different herbs, plants, and flowers listed on it. “You can find these all in the Windborne Wood. Don’t go into the Murkwood again. It’s too dangerous.”

“Okay…but I was fine before,” I object. “I don’t mind going — ”

“Thea, we can’t let you go into the Murk again,” Elwin interrupts, “even if you were safe before. Rumor has it that Ravyn Rathmore wasn’t in the Murkwood the other day, or you would have fallen into some trouble for sure. None of us go there, ever. Stay in the Windborne Wood. It’s protected by Granny’s wards, so Ravyn and her fell beast can’t get to you.” She squeezes my hand and smiles, picking up a basket of freshly picked herbs for distillation and taking them to the potions room.

“Granny? Who is Granny?” I ask, my meal finished. I stand to wash them, but Cordelia quickly takes the crockery out of my hands.

“I’ll take these. You better get going.” Her eyes gesture to the basket on the table. “Granny lives in the north woods, up the Windborne Pass. She has protected us from Ravyn for as long as I can remember. That’s why you’re safe in her wood.”

Putting on my cloak and grabbing my basket, I meet Elwen outside and we walk beyond the chapel toward the river, which flows through the forest.

I gasp.

Beyond the bank of the river, opposite the Murkfell side, is a wall of wards, extending up through the trees from the river. I can’t see where they end. The glimmering white sigils dance their way from the forest floor up to the sky.

“This is ancient magick,” I whisper, in awe of the sight. “I’ve never even seen wards this impressive even in Moonbright!” I exclaim, wondering at Granny’s handiwork. “And I can pass through these?”

“As long as you aren’t Ravyn Rathmore or her beast, you can pass through these just fine,” Elwin replies. “Do you have your list?” As I nod my consent, she continues her instructions. “Keep the village in sight so you don’t get lost. You won’t have to go far to find these.”

I nod again, understanding my task.

“Good. Well, if you don’t have any questions, then I’ll see you soon!” Elwen chirps, heading back to the apothecary.

I take a deep breath and cross the small wooden bridge to cross the river. It isn’t a large river, so the bridge is short, and I cross over into the Windborne Wood with no issues from Granny’s wards, even though I keep expecting to walk into a barrier of some sort.

I look up again at the shimmering wards. The intricate sigils are the handiwork of a talented witch indeed. I can’t wait to meet this mysterious Granny.

I begin foraging, the items easy enough to find: dandelion, elderberry, hawthorn, burdock, black cohosh, mushrooms.

I enjoy the cool, crisp, early fall breeze, the sunshine on my skin, the birds chatting away in the trees. It is easy to forget the gloom of the Murkwood here, and my spirit begins to feel lighter than air in this beautiful place with each passing moment.

The trees soar into the sky, creating a ceiling of evergreen above me. I pick a few fragrant needles for good measure. They will make a lovely tea. The sound of the birds and the river are the only sounds I can hear. I feel as if I am in a cathedral.

I spot some lovely mushrooms growing some distance off the path and wander in the area foraging, my promise to keep the village in sight quickly forgotten.

I am kneeling on the ground, gingerly placing the fresh mushrooms in my basket when I hear footfalls through the wood, twigs snapping, leaves crunching underfoot. Maybe Elwen or Cordelia have come to join me. I look around and realize I can no longer see the chapel or treehouses from the village. I had wandered too far.

I follow the sound of the footsteps, looking down as I walk to not trip over the immense tree roots crisscrossing the forest floor.

“Elwen is that — ”

The words freeze in my mouth. My entire body goes still, except for my heart, which is pounding furiously in my chest, threatening to burst.

The dire wolf of Murkfell is standing right in front of me.

The beast is enormous, but terrifyingly beautiful, its thick fur tan and marbled with white and gray, its amber eyes burning into mine. He is as tall as I am on all fours.

How did he get past Granny’s wards? The basket of herbs slips from my hand, forgotten, as I begin to back up slowly.

What do I do?? My breath hitches, the panic taking hold, constricting my chest. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I have no idea if my magick will work on this creature, or within Granny’s wards. I don’t want to wait around to find out.

So, I run. My legs feel like jelly, threatening to collapse under my weight as I jump over tree roots and maneuver around brambles that keep snagging my cloak.

Theodora and Lucien | Created in Canva and Midjourney 

The beast is behind me, crashing through the forest in pursuit. I can finally see the river up ahead, Granny’s wards showing me the way back to the village.

Suddenly, my cloak snags again, violently knocking me on my back, nearly taking my breath. The dire wolf stands over me, slavering, its amber eyes alight with the thought of a fresh kill. I close my eyes and think of my parents, my village, my clan…

I hear a low growl emitting from its throat, so deep and close I can feel it reverberating through my entire chest. It slowly walks around to stand over me, its glowing gaze boring into mine.

There is something about the beast’s eyes. They seem so…human.

He lowers his muzzle closer to my face, and I hold my breath, closing my eyes tightly. I call down my magick, as I have no choice. I feel it coursing through my body, tingling in my hands. I slowly lift my palms, ready to let loose a blast of blinding light, enough to allow me to escape.

But before I can, it speaks. He speaks.

“Help me,” he whispers, human words emitting from his lupine mouth.

My eyes widen, incredulous. The beast is speaking. To me. He doesn’t want to eat me. He wants help. I open my mouth to speak, but I hear my name echoing through the forest.

“Theodora!” Cordelia’s voice rings through the silent wood.

“Thea! Where are you?” Then Elwen’s melodic voice now joins Cordelia’s, almost like two birds singing.

I must have been gone too long, and now Elwen and Cordelia are searching for me.

The beast’s head jerks up, looking toward the village and back at me, his eyes pleading. Then he leaps, running through the forest on silent paws, leaving me shocked and alone, waiting for my sisters to find me.

To be continued…

H.R. Parker © 2024 All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 4: Bring Me Her Heart

Lucien

“Where is she, Lucien?”

Ravyn’s disembodied voice erupts in my ear. I startle and look around. That witch has a bad habit of disappearing for days and then suddenly reappearing.

Then beside me, her ethereal form materializes, like a thick mist. Her long, black hair undulates in the air as if she is underwater. She is projecting, her spirit floating lazily in the air before me, but her eyes, even in this form, are sparking with fury. Her lilac dress, or the hint of it, floats on the breeze, wisps of color in the dark forest.

Where her body is, I know not, but given the ragged appearance of her spirit, she must be out of the Murkwood.

“Who are you talking about, Ravyn?” I inquire, irritated. “And please stop showing up like that. I hate it.”

“Precisely why I do it.” She smirks, drifting closer. “And finding you is much easier if I project, now, isn’t it?”

I back away on instinct. Ravyn is poison, corrupting everything she touches.

“I know there is a Moonbright witch here,” she continues, her expression turning to a scowl. “I can still feel her presence! Why is there a Moonbright witch in my wood? And why did she escape?!”

Ravyn begins to tower over me, growing larger by the second. But after years of her tantrums, she is no more worrisome than a cloudy day. She will never hurt me, her fierce-hearted guard of the Murk.

So I can’t help but taunt her. “Why weren’t you here to banish her, Ravyn Rathmore? Aren’t you the witch of this wood?”

Her form wavers and sputters, no doubt because her anger makes her lose focus as she is projecting. “I can’t always be here, Lucien. That’s why I have you!”

“I can’t be everywhere at once, despite all your impressive spell work.”

“Tell me of the girl!” I’ve made her impatient. “What was she doing in my forest?”

Ravyn’s face suddenly hovers in front of mine, her violet eyes sparking, the purple mist around her puddling around my paws.

“It appears she is a Red Cloak heading to Murkfell, or possibly Windborne,” I confess. “She made her way quickly enough and was gone before I knew it. I had no reason to hurt her.” I lay down in the leaves, now dried and itchy on my belly without the morning dew. I begin to lick my paws casually, knowing that my casual, calm demeanor is angering Ravyn even more. I relish it.

“She wasn’t just any Red Cloak!” she objects. “Her Moonbright stink is all over my wood.”

“How was I to know she was a Moonbright?” I stand and sit back on my haunches.

“Didn’t she use her powers while she was here? Couldn’t you feel her magick?” Ravyn demands, her spirit twitching as she floats through some branches.

Of course, I felt it. “No, she walked quickly through and was on her way.”

“Did she see my cottage? Or try to look for it? Or for you?” Ravyn’s paranoia persists, a constant thorn in my side.

“No one in the Murk is just ‘passing through,’ Lucien.”

“Well, it appears that she was. She never deviated from the road that I saw,” I clarify. “Now, if you don’t mind, duty calls.” I stand, shaking out my fur, and head south to patrol the forest, away from the village, although I long to head north to see if I can catch a glimpse of the young woman once more. Her beauty and light had haunted me ever since I first saw her, nestled in the roots of the oak…

“Go patrol the Windborne Wood,” the witch suddenly orders.

Ravyn Rathmore | Created in Midjourney and Canva

I can’t believe my luck. My head snaps around at Ravyn’s demand.

She never allows me into the north woods. They are on the north side of Murkfell village, across the river, just beyond Ravyn’s reach — out of her self-claimed jurisdiction. And Granny keeps Ravyn’s foul magick out of Windborne. But this patrol means I could see her again, I could find the Red Cloak…

“The Windborne Wood? You never allow me out of the Murk. And that’s Granny’s — ”

“I’m fully aware of Granny’s influence in the north woods,” Ravyn interrupts, “but I need you to see about that witch. See if she’s in Murkfell or possibly Windborne,” grumbling and clenching her fists. “I can’t have a Moonbright witch skulking about.”

I smile wryly. “Still superstitious about the prophecy, are we?” I ask, goading her, knowing full well I, too, believed fully in the prophecy, as it could mean my freedom.

“Do as I say!” she bellows, again swooping down right in front of my face, her eyes afire. “Now go! Find the witch!”

“And what shall I do when I do find her?” My calm is an accelerant, only stoking Ravyn’s fiery anger further.

“Bring me her heart.”

Suddenly, an ornately carved wooden box appears, tied around my neck. My heart sinks. This Moonbright was my only hope to break free of Ravyn’s bonds.

“What?” I gasp. “She’s an innocent girl, I won’t — ”

“YOU HAVE NO CHOICE!” she thunders as the fell purple mist explodes around me and creeps into the trees around us. “You are my huntsman and my enforcer, wolf. You are my predator and the executioner of my will. Forever bound to my word.”

I start at the sudden display of power. It’s a good thing her physical form isn’t here.

“Besides,” Ravyn adds, gesturing towards me, “a Moonbright witch will be the most delicious prey to you, right?”

The irony of her words is cruel, but I slowly nod, playing along. How will I get out of this one?

Ravyn’s form soon fades away, and I am left padding through the forest on silent paws in my incessantly silent world. The Red Cloak once again appears in my mind as I make my way to the Windborne Wood. I long to hear the music of her voice, like when she whispered to the woodland creatures. I need music. I need noise.

I need life.

The Murkwood is my coffin, and the rising of the Red Moon will be the last nail to secure it.

The one loophole in my curse is a Moonbright witch breaking the curse, nullifying it before the rising of the Red Moon. This phenomenon is a significant event that amplifies magick, including spells that can void others, no matter who the caster is. And the power of a Moonbright witch would be…more powerful than I could ever imagine. But after the Red Moon, I would be Ravyn’s pawn forever.

There will be no going back to being a human, no going back to my old life. And how I long for it, especially after seeing the young Red Cloak, so full of life, light, and love. She represents everything I have longed for since being trapped here so long ago…I can’t tell the passage of time any longer. How long have I been here? A decade? A century?

Ravyn had been but a girl when she entrapped me, her youth and supposed innocence allowing me to fall victim to her wiles easily. I had been lost, and she had been there to be found.

Ever since, I’d been praying for a Moonbright witch to break the curse, to defeat Ravyn so I can be free, so all the denizens of the Murkfell and its surrounding environs — all its living creatures, human and animal alike — can be free.

We are all her prisoners to a certain extent.

I began to despair as the years passed, and the only humans that set foot in this forest were hunters. Hunting me, the allegedly vicious creature of the Murkwood.

I am not the vicious one. I haven’t killed a soul since I’d been here.

It is all Ravyn.

As if the villagers and outlanders don’t fear her enough, she has created lore about her ferocious wolf guard of the Murkfell. She rips apart bodies with expert care, leaving entrails scattered just outside the Murkwood, so the villagers can see “my” ferocity.

But I am no killer.

I just need help. I need to be set free.

And the Red Cloak is my only hope.

To be continued…

H.R. Parker © 2023 All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 3: Out of the Darkness, Into the Light

Theodora

When I awake the next morning, I am covered in vines and night-blooming flowers that have wound themselves around me. Two does and a stag had also provided warmth and company during the cold, lonely night. Some of the trees had seemingly leaned over me creating a sort of shelter, while others still seemed to shrink away from my presence. It is a strange mystery I haven’t yet unraveled.

I gently unwind myself from the plant life and the deer scatter as I begin to wake and stretch, shaking off the night’s broken, unsettling dreams.

I kept dreaming of the creature, its eyes haunting my every step, but each time I cast my light there would be nothing there, exactly as it happened the night before. I know the creature had been standing in front of me on the road, but as soon as I cast my light, there was nothing there. Even the animals had felt its presence and scurried away. They wouldn’t have imagined it there as I might have. I had searched for close to an hour for the creature, never venturing too far from the path, but fatigue had forced me to end my search and take my nightly rest on the cold and unforgiving forest floor.

Although I long for the cheerful warmth of a crackling fire, I don’t want to waste time on it, and it is too damp besides. I hastily eat what is left of my bread, cheese, and dried venison, take a sip of wine, and I am on my way again.

It isn’t long before I begin to see tendrils of sunlight gently weaving their golden threads through the branches of the trees.

Sunlight!

I have to be close to the edge of the Murkfell. The knowledge of this quickens my pace, and the birds start twittering around me, the deer begin to frolic, and the chipmunks begin chittering away happily as we make our way to the light. They are as happy as I am.

My eyes squint as the light grows brighter, and I find myself running, my leather boots silent on the damp leaves of the forest floor.

I can see the border of the forest and the world of light beyond. My red cloak trails behind me, blood in the wind, my feet carrying me further away from this vile place.

The trees gradually thin out, and I explode into the light, my face upturned to the sky, reveling in the warmth of the sun. The animals rejoice alongside me, and I can’t help but laugh and give the deer a fond pat on the head before resuming my walk to the village. I can already smell the smoke from the village chimneys as it snakes its way into the sky.

I glance back at the border of the Murkwood, so dark and uninviting. Chills run up my spine as I think I glimpse a glowing pair of eyes watching me through the branches.

Eyes forward, always keep your eyes forward. New future, new life. I can't be concerned with what might be living in the Murkfell Wood. I have many other living creatures in the village to tend to. Shaking off the chill of the Murk, I turn back to the road and continue my journey.

Before long, I can see the smoke itself, curling incessantly upward. My mouth waters at the thought of a home-cooked meal after eating cheese and dried meat for the last week during my journey. I hear the sounds of life, children screeching in excitement, the melodic tinkle of women’s laughter, and the booming bass sounds of men greeting each other as they start their day. I self-consciously begin to smooth my dirty, wrinkled dress and unbrushed hair, afraid the villagers will be appalled by my appearance. It wasn’t the best first impression, but what can I do?

After walking through a clearing, I am again on a forest path, but this one is bathed in light. Following the sounds, Murkfell village seems to be deep in the woods.

When I come around the bend, I see the first cottages, cozily tucked among the trees. I certainly wasn’t expecting such a quaint village after the tales of the Murkfell Wood I had been regaled with before my journey. The animals had left me, no doubt searching for a new home outside of the cursed perimeter of the wood.

Sunlight pours into the center of the village, and some people mill about chatting, some are hanging the wash, the blacksmith is stoking his fire, and somewhere beyond the buildings, I hear the soft mooing of cows and the bleating of goats.

The main buildings are clustered around an open clearing, neat and tidy: the chapel, the blacksmith, the local watering hole, the mill, the bakery, and a few others I can’t make out yet. It looks like any other cheery village I have visited, except for the delightful houses that span out from the village proper into the towering trees.

While the buildings of the village are on the ground, many of the cottages are built into and around the trees, built from the strong, dark wood of the Murk, with inviting circular porches with rounded or arched doorways. In the distance, I can hear the rush of a river. How had I not heard that in Murkfell Wood?

It had been as silent as the grave in there.

“She’s here, she’s here!”

I am jerked out of my reverie by the calls of a small girl in the middle of the village, pointing toward me. Suddenly, all the villagers’ heads swivel toward me. Some of the women drop their laundry baskets to run toward me, their faces beaming with joy, their small, dirt-smudged children in tow. Old people shuffle out of their houses, and before I know it there is a withered man and woman, on their knees at my feet, weeping and kissing my feet and the dirtied fabric of my plain brown dress as if I were some kind of saint.

“You’re here! You’re really here!”

“She’s going to save us all!”

“We’re finally free of the witch’s doom!”

“She survived the Murkfell! She is a Moonbright witch for sure!”

Hardly knowing what to say or do, I feel frozen to the spot, thankful for the appearance of another Red Cloak who appears in the throng of people.

“Please step aside! Give her space, she’s only just arrived!” The Red Cloak, who seems irritated with the villagers, gives me a huge smile, takes my hand, and pulls me out of the curious multitude.

“Come this way, the Red Cloaks are down at the end of the village proper,” she gestures back the way I came into the village. “We’re one of the first buildings you passed on the way in. We like it quiet. I’m Amity Shadowend. And obviously, the whole village knows who you are, Theodora Mourningbeam! Are you all right?? We were so shocked when we heard you were traveling through the Murk instead of around it like everyone else!” Amity looks me up and down as if to ascertain if I had any injuries. “But you are a Moonbright, so I am not surprised you made it through the Murk unscathed.”

“I’m fine, just hungry and tired. Grateful to be out of the Murkwood.” I push back my hood and gratefully drink in the breeze flowing through my unbound locks.

“I apologize for the villagers. We don’t get many new people here, especially witches. And never a Moonbright! Your people usually never leave your kingdom, right?”

I shake my head as we pass by the smithies, the smell of coal, leather, and wood swirling in the air. “It’s all right. I was expecting to the subject of curiosity, just not so much.”

Murkfell Village | Created by author in Midjourney

“The apothecary, which is us, is down this way, closer to the river.” Amity gestures to a small building, which looks like a house. Above the door is a wooden sign with a red cloak painted upon it. “This is the apothecary, and the house next door is where we all live together. It is small, I know. There are five of us now, so you and I will have to share a room, but you won’t mind, right?” Entranced by her huge smile, I couldn’t help but feel welcome as pulls me into the apothecary.

Two young women swarm me as soon as I walk inside, the earthy smell of herbs and the acrid smell of smoke assaulting my nostrils. One of the Cloaks is still sitting in a rocking chair by the fire, eyeing me suspiciously and knitting quite furiously.

They are all dressed alike, in simple beige wool dresses, leather lace-up boots, and brown leather corsets cinching their waists. Three red cloaks hang on a coat rack by the door.

“Theodora! We’re so glad you’re here!” A raven-haired beauty with ebony skin throws her arms around me, kissing me on the cheek. “I’m Elwen Riddle, earth. Amity is air — did she already tell you that? And Jemma Keeling here is water. The sourpuss over by the fire is Cordelia Bloodworth, who is our resident fire witch.”

Cordelia glares at Elwen, then returns to her knitting. “Pleased to meet you,” she mumbles at me, still not looking up from her work.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you all!” I exclaim, surprised at my warm reception (except for the fire witch). “I’ve not been around many elemental witches; I can’t wait to learn about your magic!”

“And we yours,” says Amity as she takes my muddy, dirty cloak. “We’ll get this washed for you. We have a spare you can use until then.” She leaves the room as Elwen pours me a cup of tea and sits me down next to the fireplace.

I sit heavily and sigh, rubbing my aching feet, wishing I could remove my boots. Elwen places a steaming mug in one hand, and a plate of warm bread, honey, and cheese in the other. “Oh, bless you! What wonderful refreshment!” I tuck gratefully into the bread and took a sip of the warming tea.

“This tea is a specialty of mine. It helps weak constitutions. You’ll feel refreshed in no time!” Elwen smiled, sitting down next to me.

Jemma, the water witch, sits down on the hearth, looking a bit shy. She looks younger than the rest of us, with radiant chestnut locks, golden amber eyes, and golden skin the color of toasted acorns. She is breathtakingly beautiful. “We’re so glad you’re here. There are usually only four of us, one for each element. But when we received your letter asking about employment — a real live Moonbright witch — we couldn’t turn you down!” Her cheeks, two shiny ripe apples, pull up into a grin. “A natural-born healer! You can heal by just touching someone, right?”

“What made you leave Moonbright to come here of all places?” Cordelia interrupts before I can answer, leaning against the door jamb, glaring at me with her bright blue eyes, a stark contrast to her dark hair.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I was born with healing powers, so it was a natural calling to become a healer. I love helping people.” I almost tell them about the dreams I have always had about this village, but I don’t know them well enough to confide that. Would they think me strange? I focus once again on the conversation with my new Red Cloak sisters. “So here I am.” I blow on the tea and take a dainty sip to not burn my tongue. It tastes of clove, anise, and honey. It was blissfully warming, and a pleasant change from the wine and water I’d been drinking the last week during my travels.

“Well, whatever your reason, we’re always happy to have another Red Cloak. We needed another set of hands to help us with the villagers who live deeper in the forest and up into the mountains.” Amity squeezes by Cordelia and also comes to sit at the table.

“So, we must know, Thea, is it alright if I call you that?” Without waiting for an answer, the loquacious Elwen continues. “Did you see the dire wolf?” Her eyes widen in excitement and suspense.

I almost tell them the truth, that I had seen something, but I decide to keep that knowledge to myself. I don’t want news of the dire wolf to spark a hunting frenzy on the poor creature. “No, no wolves. Just a few woodland creatures when I got closer to the Murkfell road.” I focus on putting more honey on my bread lest they could see the lie in my eyes.

“No one ever comes through the Murkfell Wood to get here. They take the long way round. Why did you brave the Murk when entire groups of men who are twice your size refuse to set foot in that forest?” Cordelia is still leaning against the door jamb, her eyes stabbing into mine.

“She’s a cosmic witch, Cordelia! She has the power of light, so naturally, she can scare away all the fell creatures of the dark!” Elwen says before I can answer. She rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind her. You’re terribly brave, coming through the Murk the way you did. Most outlanders come the long way round, up the mountain and down Windborne Pass to get here.”

“That would have taken an extra week, and my posting started today. I had no idea the coachman would leave me like that! He said he would take me all the way to Murkfell,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

“He did take you all the way to the Murkfell. Just not through the Murkfell. Did he ever say Murkfell Village? There’s the rub,” Jemma says quietly, clearing my empty plate.

My mouth hangs open slightly with the realization. “That horrid little man! No wonder everyone in the tavern laughed when he said he’d take me to theMurkfell.”

Amity laughs, the corners of her mahogany eyes creasing. “Old Mr. Crowe. He’s a sneaky one.”

“Come on, Thea, let’s get you settled in your room! Cordelia is heating water for your bath, and then you can have a rest.” Elwen takes my hand and leads me over to our shared house, my new living quarters.

“Don’t I need to start my work today? I’m not too tired — ”

“Nonsense! Today, you rest. But tomorrow — your new life in Murkfell begins.”

To be continued

H.R. Parker © 2023 All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 2: The Direwolf of Murkfell

Lucien

That was close. She had almost seen me when she cast her light. But I, like the other animals in this dismal forest, am drawn to her light. I had to take a closer look.

Ravyn hadn’t warned me anyone was coming through the Murkfell today, much less a Red Cloak. She should have seen it in her scrying mirror. Besides being healers and midwives, the Red Cloaks are witches with elemental powers themselves, but none that rival Ravyn’s. According to Ravyn. I have never met a Red Cloak.

Until now.

I am walking the perimeter of the Murkfell as I usually do, when suddenly, through the murk, I see a light glowing, soft, warm, and beckoning.

I creep toward the source of light, lest they be more hunters trying to pilfer their glory by killing the Murkfell dire wolf. Me. But I feel no malice from this light.

From between the trees, I can finally see a young woman, dark hair cascading out of her red hood, walking purposefully yet carefully down the path toward the village. The poor creature, braving the Murkfell to get to her post on time instead of going the long way around. She looks small and harmless enough to me, carrying a battered old carpetbag in one hand and a lantern in the other.

But upon closer inspection, the light emanates from her hand, not a lantern…

Could it be?

I follow her on silent enchanted paws, stalking unheard. My camouflage makes me undetectable by the regular human eye. But this Red Cloak is no mundane.

She is indeed a witch. And not just any witch.

I follow her for what seems like an eternity through the forest. She never feels my presence.

A witch with the power of goodness and light

can overcome Ravyn’s darkness and might.

The lines from the children’s poem come unbidden to my mind, where shattered memories would lie dormant until triggered, like now. Though I had not grown up in Murkfell, I had heard the rumors as a child about a darkling witch of the wood before I made my way through the Murkfell Wood that fateful day.

Then Ravyn herself had told me of the prophecy: of a witch from Moonbright who would one day cause her downfall. It wasn’t until she entrapped me that the poem was written. How long has it been? A decade? A century? I have no sense of time here.

The Dire Wolf of Murkfell | Created by H.R. Parker in Midjourney

Beware, young child, the witch of the wood,

Who makes the Murk so fell;

So wicked was she

She had to flee

The light of the tolling bell.

She built her house in the murk of the wood

A most unwelcoming sight

Shields and spells

Darkness and bells

Her house in the Murk was a blight.

Alone she lived, until one morn

A handsome young prince lost his way

Sun and light

His magic so bright

As bright as the brightest of days.

This golden prince, thought the darkling witch,

is more powerful than I

For the light is bright

And drowns out my might

He must be destroyed by and by.

For she remembered the prophecy that haunted her so

From each tortuous night til day:

A witch with the power of moon and light

can overcome Ravyn’s

darkness and might.

So down she called her ravens so dark

To swarm the unknowing prince

Taken by surprise

Even though so wise

He was never heard from since

Her ravens swooped, her ravens swarmed

The prince was now her own

With a flourish of spells

And witch’s bells

A wolf he now is, fur to bone.

Beware, young child, the witch of the wood,

Who makes the Murk so fell;

Step not ye near

Or Ravyn will appear

And put ye under her spell.

If this Red Cloak has the power of light, might she be the one to defeat Ravyn and banish my curse? She has to be a Moonbright witch. No other witches have the power of the cosmos except Moonbrights. And Ravyn.

I stop and sit in a dense thicket as the young woman nestles in the roots of an oak, surrounded by woodland creatures, who no doubt have also been attracted to her just like I was. I am a beast, after all.

Entranced, I watched her silently, barely breathing. It has been years since I have seen another human like this one. Ever since Ravyn had bound me to this beastly body, I had only been in contact with her and the arrogant hunters who wanted my head as some sort of gruesome trophy to prove their bravery and courage. Foolishness, more like. The other villagers are too afraid to enter here, and horses bolt before stepping foot into its black abyss. Ravyn Rathmore had made Murkfell Wood a fell wood indeed.

The animals surround the Red Cloak, entranced by the light orb that flows around her, giving them all light and heat. Birds land on her hand, the deer licks her fingers, and the chipmunks climb into the folds of her wool cloak, red as blood, and curl up to nap.

Her light reminds me of… Think no more about that. That was so long ago.

If she is the one who can break my curse, how can I approach her without frightening her?

She is a Moonbright witch. There was no doubt about that.

I have to figure out a way to get the Red Cloak to help me before I am bound to Ravyn and the Murkfell forever. And the clock is ticking.

To be continued…

H.R. Parker © 2023 All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1: The Murkfell Wood

Theodora

“Beware the Murkfell Wood, Miss Mourningbeam,” says the withered old man as he hands me my battered carpetbag and climbs back onto the coach to take the reins. “I’m sorry I can’t take ye any further than here.” He wipes the dust off his brow and begins fiddling with the reins, ready to leave me here, all alone in this godforsaken place.

I glance at the dark forest looming just ahead, the twisted, gnarled branches piercing the innocent blue sky that blankets me from above. I look back to the coachman, who is trying to steady the jittery horses. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you take me to Murkfell village? There’s a perfectly good road running through those trees that your little coach would surely navigate.”

“D’ye see my horses, miss? They won’t step foot into the Murkfell Wood, and you shouldn’t either.” The old man expertly begins to turn the coach around, his two mares following his gentle prodding.

“But where are you going? Surely you just can’t leave me here in the middle of — ”

“Sorry, miss,” he calls as he coaxes his horses up to a trot, “this is as far as I go! Beware the dire wolf of the Murkfell!”

In a flourish of dust and the braying of the horses, I am left alone, listening to the fading pounding of the horses running away from whatever evil I am about to walk into.

Dire wolf? Surely, that is just a story to scare children into not straying too far from home. Dire wolves aren’t real.

Taking a deep breath, I turn, pick up my carpetbag, and begin walking toward the darkness of the unknown wood before me. I have no choice. I have a posting in Murkfell village as an alchemist and midwife, and I have to get there by tomorrow.

It’s just a forest, I think, and there is an easy path to follow straight to the village.As I walk into the gloom of the Murkfell, my soft leather boots crunching on dead leaves, the ravens begin to circle above me and caw as if laughing at my foolishness for entering this place. Looking ahead of me into the wood, it is like nighttime. Behind me, the sun is still shining in a bright blue sky, the ravens still trying to warn me from the branches of the oaks outside the Murkfell.

They do not enter with me.

That’s not a good sign, I think, gripping my bag tighter and putting one foot in front of the other. Alone, I trudge ahead, the branches of the trees closing in and reaching out to snag my red cloak as if to ensnare me in the living being that was the darkness of this forest. Remember Theodora, I think, untangling the red wool from the clawing branches with cold, trembling fingers, you are the light. You are a Mourningbeam. You are a Moonbright witch.

Calling down my power, I call the light from within, as there is no light without to draw from. A soft, warm light begins to glow from my hand, and the trees shrink back as if afraid of my light. I release the light and it hovers before me, a luminous orb lighting my way through the forest. I can see the eyes of owls and other creatures glowing in the dark of the twisted wood, but I fear no animal.

Humans are the real fear. Not this imaginary dire wolf the old coachman warned me about.

Theodora Mourningbeam | Created in Midjourney and Canva

---

About an hour into my journey, my stomach begins to rumble, and my energy flagging after the long carriage ride from Moonbright. I take shelter under a massive oak right off the path, settling into its roots and wrapping my cloak about me. I cannot believe it is daytime. I look up into the sky, mostly blotted out by the gnarled trees above, but no blue sky greets me from in between its spaces. The sky looks dark gray as if a storm is approaching. Is it always like this here?

My orb still lingers around me, comforting me with its warmth and light. I unwrap a cloth package containing a hunk of bread, cheese, and dried venison my mother had packed before I left. Homesickness begins to make my heart ache, and tears begin to well in my eyes, but I fight the urge for self-pity. Wiping my tears, I try to look forward to my new life in Murkfell village as a Red Cloak and eat my modest repast nestled in the sheltering branches of the enormous oak. It feels almost as if the tree is embracing me.

I then enjoy a few sips of rich red Moonbright wine from my flask, a parting gift from my father. “Take a nip of this to ward off the cold on your journey,” he had said, his sapphire eyes shimmering with tears as he bade his only daughter a final goodbye. The wine warms me after a few sips and gives me the kind of foolish bravery that only comes with alcohol. So, I take another nip and continue my journey.

Suddenly, I hear the cracking of twigs and dried leaves, as if a creature is gingerly walking about in the forest. Heart pounding, I glimpse two sets of eyes, and suddenly, two deer emerge from the shadow of the gnarly trees. Then I see more shining eyes coming toward me. Raccoons, songbirds, rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks, all emerge from the darkness of the wood and surround me as I sit flabbergasted, nestled in the roots of the oak. I am accustomed to animals being drawn to me, but I am surprised these creatures can even survive here.

Maybe they don’t actually live here, I think, the animals quietly surrounding me. They’re drawn to my light, like moths to flame. Smiling, I expand the orb, spreading more warmth and light to the animals around me.

“You poor things,” I whisper, holding up my hand as a little bluebird alights on my finger. “How do you live in such darkness and gloom?” A deer nudges my hand, and I gently stroke its velvety, soft head. “Follow me, little creatures. I’ll lead you out of here.”

I stand and gather my belongings, walking back onto the path. The animals still scurry about me, the deer walking ahead as if they are my guides.

I’m not leading them, they’re leading me! They’re helping me leave this fell place.

I feel less frightened with the animals around me and am determined to finish my journey posthaste.

A few steps ahead, the pack of animals freezes.

I also halt, looking warily around me. If the animals are frightened, then I should be too, right? Had my light also attracted the unwanted attention of a predator, like a bear or a wolf? A real wolf, not some imaginary dire wolf…

I wave my hand into the orb, and it vanishes, casting me into utter darkness.

Before me, two eyes glow brightly, reflecting off what I knew not. The eyes are too high to be a bear on all fours or even a wolf. And human eyes do not glow.

Is this the dire wolf of Murkfell?

I stand as still as possible, anxiously debating whether to cast my light once more. But in the darkness, my fear begins to creep up my spine, the warnings from the old man floating through my brain. “Beware the dire wolf of Murkfell …”

Dire wolves do not exist, I assure myself, taking a quiet step forward. They went extinct thousands of years ago.

As I take the step forward, I hear the creature step as if it is stepping back away from me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I whisper into the gloom, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but it is still pitch black, the canopy of trees consuming any light there might have been from above.

Suddenly, the eyes began to move toward me. I can hear heavy paws hitting the dirt, and the animals scurry back into the forest. Alone on the road, I have no choice.

I cast my light, the orb illuminating the dark road before me.

To be continued…

H.R. Parker © 2023 All Rights Reserved.