Chapter 11: The Hag’s Last Stand
The attic was a dark, cramped space filled with the stench of mildew and the faint rustle of unseen vermin. Kalo and the faun hoisted themselves inside, careful not to disturb the piles of debris that littered the floorboards. The distant screeches of the night flitters and the clang of the badger’s enchanted spade echoed faintly behind them, a haunting reminder of their friend’s sacrifice.
Kalo rested his hand on the handle of his broom, his knuckles white. The broom pulsed faintly with energy, as if sensing the danger ahead. The faun adjusted his waistcoat, fingers brushing over the hidden trinkets concealed within. His flute dangled from a strap around his neck, its polished wood gleaming faintly in the dim light.
“Stay quiet,” Kalo whispered.
The faun nodded, his normally playful demeanor replaced with an uncharacteristic seriousness. He reached into his waistcoat, producing a small vial of shimmering green liquid. With a smirk, he handed it to Kalo.
“What’s this?” Kalo asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something I’ve been saving,” the faun replied. “A little concoction to... encourage a quick escape, should we need it. Trust me.”
Kalo slipped the vial into his pouch and crept forward, his broom held at the ready. The attic creaked with every step, the warped floorboards threatening to betray their presence. Above, faint beams of moonlight filtered through cracks in the roof, casting eerie patterns on the walls.
The pair moved toward the attic hatch, a rickety wooden door that led down into the heart of the hag’s lair. From below, they could hear the hag’s cackling voice, accompanied by the bubbling of her cauldron and the occasional rustle of wings as a stray night flitter returned to its roost.
Kalo placed a hand on the hatch, pausing. He glanced back at the faun, who gave him a reassuring nod. Together, they lifted the hatch and descended into the chaos below.
The room they entered was a grotesque sight. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with jars of unidentifiable substances—pickled eyes, withered roots, and animal bones. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning herbs and rotting flesh. In the center of the room stood the hag, her hunched figure silhouetted against the glow of the fire.
She was muttering to herself, weaving a spell as her gnarled hands worked to complete the charm she had begun earlier. Strands of willow, bone, and parchment dangled from her fingers, their dark energy palpable.
On the far side of the room, Miri the hare sat in her cage, her tiny body trembling. She gripped the bars with desperation, her wide eyes locking onto Kalo and the faun as they crept closer.
The hag’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “I smell intruders.” She turned, her eyes gleaming with malice. “You dare enter my domain?”
Before Kalo or the faun could respond, the hag raised a clawed hand, and the room seemed to come alive. Shadows stretched and twisted, forming jagged shapes that lunged toward the pair.
Kalo leapt forward, gripping his broom tightly. With a swift motion, the broom transformed, its bristles collapsing into a gleaming blade of silver, its edges glowing faintly green. He swung the Heatherblade in a wide arc, slicing through the shadowy tendrils that reached for him.
The faun raised his flute to his lips and played a sharp, piercing note. The sound reverberated through the room, causing the shadows to recoil. The hag screamed, covering her ears.
“Clever,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “But you’ll need more than parlor tricks to defeat me!”
She raised her other hand, and from the dark corners of the room, the remaining night flitters swarmed toward them. Kalo and the faun braced themselves as the creatures descended, their claws and fangs glinting in the firelight.
Kalo swung the Heatherblade with precision, the enchanted weapon cutting through the flitters with ease. The faun reached into his waistcoat again, pulling out a handful of glittering powder. With a flourish, he threw it into the air, and the room erupted in a burst of light. The night flitters screeched and fell back, momentarily blinded.
But the hag was not so easily deterred. She lunged toward Kalo, her bony fingers grasping for his throat. Kalo raised the Heatherblade just in time, deflecting her attack. The two clashed, the hag’s strength far greater than her frail appearance suggested.
The faun, seeing Kalo struggling, played another tune on his flute. This time, the melody was low and haunting, resonating with the very walls of the room. The air seemed to shimmer, and the objects on the shelves began to shake. The hag faltered, her movements slowing as the magic of the flute took hold.
“Now, Kalo!” the faun shouted.
Kalo didn’t hesitate. He drove the Heatherblade forward, the weapon glowing brightly as it struck the hag. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, her form twisting and writhing.
But before they could finish her off, the hag’s body dissolved into a swarm of spiders, scuttling in every direction. The largest spider, black and glistening, darted toward the brambles outside, disappearing into the shadows.
“She’s gone,” Kalo muttered, lowering the Heatherblade.
“For now,” the faun replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire. Kalo rushed to Miri’s cage, slicing through the bars with the Heatherblade. The hare leapt into his arms, trembling but safe.
The faun sank to the floor, his back against the wall. He pulled another trinket from his waistcoat—a small silver coin—and began flipping it absentmindedly. “She’ll be back,” he said softly. “But we’ll be ready.”
Kalo nodded, holding Miri close. “Let’s get out of here. The badger’s sacrifice won’t be in vain.”
As they climbed back into the attic, the firelight cast their shadows long across the walls. The hag was defeated, but the battle had taken its toll. The heath was safe—for now.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter 12: A Whisper in the Wind
Miri sat on the damp earth, trembling slightly as she clutched her dress. Though the horrors of her captivity were behind her, the memories still gripped her like a vise. Her once-bright eyes were dull, and her hands occasionally twitched, as if trying to shake off invisible shackles. Kalo knelt beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his face etched with worry. Sprig, ever loyal, leaned against her side, hissed softly as though trying to comfort her in his own way.
The faun stood nearby, his waistcoat torn and his fine coat singed at the edges. He was breathing heavily but upright, his pride intact. He adjusted the flute tucked into his belt, brushing soot from his horned brow. Despite the exhaustion in his posture, a fiery determination burned in his amber eyes. They had escaped the clutches of the Hag, but none of them could rest easy knowing that Mr. Thornwick, the steadfast and kind-hearted badger, was still missing.
The group rested for an hour in the shadow of the twisted, gnarled trees surrounding the Hag’s lair. Miri clung to Kalo’s arm as she dozed fitfully, her dreams plagued by shadows. Kalo gazed into the distance, his mind racing. The faun paced restlessly, muttering to himself. Finally, as the soften orange light of the afternoon began to shine down, Kalo stood.
“We cannot leave him,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion.
The faun nodded in agreement. “We owe him that much. He fought for us.”
Miri, though still shaken, raised her chin and whispered, “We’ll find him. We have to.”
Kalo instructed his enchanted broom to take to the skies and circle the area. Its bristles quivered with magical energy as it soared upward, scanning for any sign of the missing badger. Meanwhile, the group followed the trampled path left behind by Mr. Thornwick. The trail led them to a clearing of flattened thistles. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and the signs of a violent struggle were unmistakable.
Several night flitterers—dark, goblin -like creatures with sharp claws and cruel eyes—lay lifeless among the greenery, their bodies twisted and broken. Clumps of the badger’s bloodied fur were scattered across the ground. His newly crafted weapon the brass battle spade poked out of the tall grass firmly wedged into the earth , Kalo’s heart sank.
“Mr. Thornwick!” he called, his voice echoing across the field.
The others joined in, shouting the badger’s name as they searched the area. But there was no sign of him. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
As night fell, the group made camp near the edge of the clearing. The faun lit a small fire, its warm glow doing little to dispel the heavy sense of loss that hung over them. Miri sat quietly, staring into the flames. Sprig perched on her lap, his tail drooping. Kalo kept watch, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness, though he knew it was futile.
The Two-Week Search
For two weeks, they scoured the countryside. They combed through thick scrub and gullies, waded through icy streams, and clambered over rocky outcrops. No patch of heather or bracken was left unturned. The first snowflakes began to fall, drifting gently from the gray skies. Winter was closing in, and with it came the grim realization that their search was in vain.
Miri wept quietly one evening, her tears freezing on her cheeks. The faun, though usually aloof, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We did all we could,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow.
Eventually, they had no choice but to abandon the search. As they made their way back toward their homes, a heavy silence settled over the group. When the grove of oak trees appeared on the horizon, the faun stopped and turned to face them.
“This is where I leave you,” he said. He reached into his coat and produced two small silver coins, pressing them into Kalo’s and Miri’s hands. “If you ever need me, toss this coin and call my name.”
Kalo nodded, his gratitude unspoken but clear in his eyes. They watched as the faun stepped into the grove. A shimmering veil of magic surrounded the oaks, and in an instant, he was gone. On the other side, in the eternal spring of the fey realm, the faun sat on an old tree stump. He lifted his flute to his lips and began to play a mournful tune, his thoughts lingering on the brave badger they had lost.
A Return to Safety
Kalo, Miri, and Sprig continued their journey. By midday, they reached the lush fern patch where Miri’s rabbit warren lay hidden. The snow here had begun to swallow the ferns Miri hugged them tightly, her tears now a mixture of sorrow and relief. “Thank you for bringing me home,” she whispered.
“Stay safe,” Kalo replied, his voice soft but firm.
Miri disappeared into the warren’s entrance, smiling through her tears. The sight of her safe and sound brought a small measure of comfort to Kalo and Sprig as they resumed their journey.
Home at Last
By nightfall, they reached the ruins atop the loch’s hill and slipped through the hidden round door. The tunnels beneath the hill welcomed them like an old friend. They passed through the vast underground kitchens, treasury, and quarters, finally emerging into the larder of the Koopling’s cozy home. The shelves were lined with jars of spices, salted meats, and sacks of flour. The familiar scents wrapped around them like a warm embrace.
Up the steps they went, into the root room where the hearth crackled to life, filling the space with warmth and light. In the library, Kalo brewed chamomile tea and slumped into his favorite lounge chair. Sprig curled up on his lap, and together they drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A Whisper in the Wind
Far away, in the dark depths of a twisted warren, Mr. Thornwick toiled under the cruel watch of a brownie fey. The small, wiry creature stood with its arms crossed, glaring at the chained badger as he scrubbed the stone floor.
“Useless beast!” the brownie spat. “Clean better, you fool. Those night flitterers robbed me when they sold you. Worthless! Not even fit to polish my boots.”
The brownie struck the badger with a crooked stick before storming off. Thistlewick winced but said nothing. As he continued to scrub, a single tear rolled down his cheek.
“Help me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Kalo… Mr. Faun… anyone…”
The Wind’s Call
Back at the Koopling’s home, the wind howled over the heath, tumbling leaves and bending branches. It whistled through gullies and over streams, finally slipping through the open window of the Koopling’s underground home.
The cold breeze swept across Kalo’s face, carrying with it a faint, desperate plea:
“Help me…”
Kalo’s eyes snapped open. He sat up, his heart racing, his breath visible in the frigid air. Sprig stirred on his lap, looking up at him curiously.
“He lives,” Kalo murmured, his voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.
The badger was alive—and he needed their help.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
