The Crimson Bow: And the Eagle Insignia

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

" ... Lovely, isn't it, Warren? ... "

" Ice "

Year 700. April 3rd. Night [22:43]

Inondra. Woods outside Snailbend Town.

So says the Timekeeper

*

The rope is firmly in place. It dangles from the tree branch, rocking side to side by the weight of the young boy sitting in the tree. The end of the rope it is tied in a loop, a noose big enough to go over the head. The boy keeps still, his brown eyes trained on the end of the noose. He watches it rock back and forth, and eventually come to a halt.

Around him, the night is alive. Crickets chirp and the leaves of nearby trees rustle in the wind. There are even the hoots of owls every so often. The moon's glow streams to the ground in rays of subtle light. But none of it reaches the boy, who remains still as a stone perched between two branches. The cold of night touches the bare skin on his arms like claws, though at the same time, it brings upon a welcomed numbness.

When the boy's eyes drift from the noose, he finds that he can see well in the dark. Perhaps because he's been out here so long, his eyes have already adjusted. But he can make out almost every edge on the firm bark of a tree in front of his. The woods are peaceful, and most days the gentle sounds of the forest at night would calm him or lull him to sleep. These woods have sheltered him, and practically raised him, he feels almost sorry for constructing gallows in such a beloved place, but there is nowhere he would rather die.

In slow shifts, he grows ever closer to the edge of the tree. If he is going to use the gallows he made, he will have to get down from the tree. He knows this, and yet it seems as though every muscle in his body is screaming no, but his defeated mind and heart are screaming yes. Eventually, he drops down, landing smoothly on the soft grass below the tree. He leans down and slips his sandals back on his worn and bruised feet. Once again, he tips his head up to watch the new swaying of the noose. Anything... Anything to prolong what last moments of his life he is going to allow. But he knows that he must not wait too long, for as soon as the dawn were to come, his chance will be gone. Yet there is still the lingering question, is this really what he wants?

Of course not! The boy doubles over and grits his teeth, shouting his answer silently and to nobody but himself. Of course he doesn't want to die. But his hope has run out. A life of enduring abuse led him to this point, and at the young age of fifteen. A demon, he is called. Rocks are hurled at him and parents will watch while their kids beat him with sticks. The scars on his exposed arms are proof of that. He has scars from head to toe, with some fresh cuts and bruises visible on his skin. The boy crumbles to the ground, sitting curled up in a ball with his eyes squeezed shut. If there was another way to end his pain, he'd take it. If anyone had made an effort to help him, he'd have let them. But he can see no other way, and nobody had cared to look past the 'demon' and see the scared, depressed, and helpless boy underneath. His body trembles, I'm scared... I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared! The boy opens his mouth to scream into his arm, but no sound comes out. And soon he feels the far too familiar feeling of losing himself. It starts with feeling only a bit light-headed, and within moments his whole body feels cold. He can't feel his fingers, nor his feet, and eventually his mind becomes numb. He blacks out, but only for a few seconds. Once he regains consciousness, his mind is blank.

The fear ebbs away, and he feels nothing. The boy stands and quietly steps onto a rock underneath the tree to face the noose. He reaches for the noose, and slips the loop over his head and around his neck. He continues to feel nothing. The boy slams his head against the tree trunk, his laugh starting out in soft giggles and eventually morphing into hysteric laughter. His fingernails dig into the trunk until they scream in pain, all while the boy's forehead is throbbing from where he hit the tree. "Nothing...! Hah!! I feel nothing at all! Totally numb, yes sir! That's the way to be. Thank goodness I managed to rid myself of that pathetic whelp!" his voice echoes throughout the otherwise-still forest. Animals flee and, even for a moment, it seems like the trees themselves are still. "I bet that craven was too scared to go this far," he cackles, appearing to find great glee in having the noose around his neck, "Well no matter. I'll finish the job for him! Hahahah!! Oh what despair, how utterly delicious! How I love every moment of it. That fumbling fo-" His insane ramblings are cut off by a bit of blood trickling down his forehead, and steadily dripping off his nose.