Moonlit Sunlight

Trouble would be coming soon. The moon peeked over the treetops, taunting the sun as it began its descent from the height of noon. Aiden walked down a quiet forest path alone, gazing up at the great spirit of Night as it broke from its prescribed time of rising. He wasn't much of a man for signs, but an early moon was one omen he never ignored. Some sort of evil was afoot, and it was going to take someone unawares. Hopefully, it wouldn't be him.

Having seen what he needed to see, Aiden dropped his gaze back to the path which lay before him. Crushed ferns and broken branches marked the way forward, oppressed by human hands and feet, but not yet defeated. The spirits of this forest still hummed with life—the only sound Aiden could hear as he continued on. There was no movement at all; even the wind stood still here.

And yet, there was life. He could feel it all around. Aiden opened his mouth and let himself taste it. The very air here carried a sense of liveliness, brought forth by the spirits of the great east wind: the source of life itself. He looked down at the trampled foliage, knowing that it would rise up again. With so many spirits at work here, mere humans wouldn't dare to do any more than simply pass through these woods.

Shaking his head, Aiden broke himself out of his reverie. There was an early moon today; he had to stay alert. No sense getting distracted by the forest. The spirits here would not help him if trouble were to come his way; they were not his to command. His were despicable creatures, born of the unlit shadows of his own soul. They were rebels against the natural order, and yearned for nothing more than to kill. They were not allowed here, where the more peaceful spirits of the forest thrived. Aiden would have to rely on his own power alone should anything happen.

A short way down the path, a bush moved. Aiden stepped forward slowly, not wanting to startle whatever hid behind it. He didn't want to meet any ill fortune if he could avoid it, but he was not going to run away from rustling leaves. It was probably just some small animal hiding from predators. Just to be safe, he kept his eye on the bush as he passed it.

A small boy lay on the other side of the bush; Aiden had caught a glimpse of him and went to examine the body. There was a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest, bleeding fresh blood. Aiden felt his heart ache as he stared at the small, still chest. It was not the boy's death that moved him, but the sound of his soul clinging to its still-warm shell. He breathed in the taste of what life still lingered on the boy's body, and felt something slowly build within him.

"Don't worry," he muttered softly. "You will be able to rest soon."

Aiden stood up slowly, turning to face a large oak as he opened himself fully to the world around him. There was a strangled sense of fear coming from behind the thick trunk. The spirits of the woods were screaming now, and his blood burned like cinders with every cry. He walked toward the tree, already knowing what was waiting for him. He would have found it laughable, were it not for his fury. When he reached the oak, begging him to rid it of the pestilence which hid behind, he spoke out to the man who stood trembling.

"That moon is for you."

He felt a shock of confusion from the man, who stumbled out from behind the tree a moment later with a crossbow in hand. Aiden lunged forward, knocking the weapon aside. Not stopping, he lashed out with his bare hand to strike the man in the throat. After a few moments of watching the man flounder about for air, Aiden unsheathed his knife. The man tried to back away, but it was futile.

The spirits grew calm then, and Aiden turned to face the boy. His spirit was still lingering.

He approached the body once more, taking the head in his hands. He spoke out an incantation in the Old Tongue, one of the few that he knew. He felt the boy's presence slowly fade away, and the wound in his chest stopped bleeding.

Aiden got up and began walking down the road once more, feeling no concern for the body he had left behind. It didn't matter—the boy's soul had found its rest. Let the body rot.