NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3: “The Mother, Hannah.”
In the deep solitude of the eventide, not two hours and thirty minutes hence, the hallowed sanctum of Arteus and Hannah Montfreed was pierced by an uncanny silence that seemed to thicken the very air, pregnant with a foreboding that sent a quiver down the spine. The ancient oak door to their humble abode groaned on its rusted hinges, opening with the solemnity of a crypt's maw revealing a phantasmagoria of shadow and dread.
"You..." Hannah's voice quivered, a tremor of terror playing upon her lips as she beheld the unexpected apparition that stood before her, a ghastly visage from a past she had endeavored with all her might to inter.
The intruder, clad in a cloak that seemed to be woven from the very fabric of the night itself, offered no greeting, no malicious sneer nor sinister utterance. Instead, it extended a hand that was as skeletal as the limbs of the trees that scratched at the moon outside, a silent yet imperative summons that sent a shiver down her spine colder than the grave.
"What is thy design?" she asked, her words laden with the urgency of one whose very world was crumbling to dust before her eyes. Yet, the silence remained, as palpable as the shroud that obscured the visitor's visage.
The hand hovered in the stillness, an unspoken question that hung in the air like the mist that clung to the cobwebs in the corners of the room. Hannah felt the clutch of an icy hand upon her soul, a coldness that no mere winter's chill could emulate, and she knew that this was not the hour for idle chatter.
---
Forward, then, to the present moment where Arteus Montfreed, a lad of unyielding spirit, found himself enmeshed in a maelstrom of his own creation. "Mom!" he called out, his voice a desperate howl lost in the vastness of the night.
He forged ahead through the enveloping woodland, his breath emerging in plumes of mist as if his very essence sought to flee the horrors that pursued him. The trees whispered their sylvan secrets, their sighs echoing through the night, reminding him of his own insignificance in the grand tapestry of fate.
With the suddenness of a lightning bolt that splits the velvet sky, he chanced upon a shortcut, a path less trodden that beckoned to him with the siren's allure. Two steps he took, and the world he knew was irrevocably altered. The village of Barley, nestled in the cradle of the valley, had metamorphosed into a tableau of woe and desolation.
"Ah... Aaah..." Arteus gasped, the air torn from his lungs as if by an invisible hand. He knew that he must proceed, driven by a primal instinct that whispered to him of a horror that had ravaged his village, and perhaps, claimed his mother as well.
Gathering the shreds of his courage and summoning a strength hitherto untapped, he sprinted with a velocity that defied the very laws of nature. The ground seemed to shudder beneath his tread, the very atmosphere to part as he flew across the landscape. His heart, a caged creature, hammered in his chest, an inexorable drum that urged him ever onward.
---
And lo, a sound as of thunder rent the air, as if the heavens themselves were torn asunder by his passage, and Arteus stumbled into the very maw of the abyss—Red Square, the grandest emporium of all Barley, now a sepulchre of shattered timber and shattered lives. He staggered to the entrance, his eyes devouring the desolate marketplace with a desperation that knew no bounds.
The once bustling heart of the village lay still and mute, a crimson snowfall painting the cobblestone streets in a macabre ballet of death. The cries of the lost and the forsaken echoed in his ears, a symphony of sorrow that drowned all other sound.
With legs that trembled as though they bore the weight of the world upon them, he ventured forth into the emptiness, his eyes drawn to the lifeless forms that lay scattered about like discarded rag dolls. The silence was a tomb, a mournful hymn that sang the dirge of a thousand untimely ends.
---
Two hours had elapsed upon the clock that ticks out the fate of men, and Arteus approached his home, a solitary sentinel in a world of shadows. The path he had but moments ago cleaved through the storm now lay buried beneath the relentless onslaught of the tempest, yet he did not waver. The wind howled around him, a chorus of the damned, as he stumbled closer to the shack that had once been his sanctuary.
The door gaped like the mouth of a beast, revealing the chaos within. His heart a leaden weight, he stepped over the threshold, his gaze drawn to the crimson path that snaked its way to his mother's chamber.
"Mom...?" The words died in his throat, a feeble echo, as a monstrous form materialized from the gloom. A creature of the wilds, a titan yeti, had invaded his fortress, staining it with the essence of its own malevolence.
The beast's fur, once as black as the pits of night, was now a ghastly crimson, a gruesome testament to its savagery. It clutched Hannah's inert form in a grip that spoke of ownership, a macabre puppet in a play of horror.
---
Arteus stood, a silent sentinel, as the creature advanced. His thoughts raced like the wind through the treetops, a tumult of vengeance and the warmth of his mother's embrace. Yet, fear had fled from him, leaving only a cold, burning rage that consumed him utterly.
The yeti, a creature of the night, drew nearer, its eyes as cold and unfeeling as the ice that clung to the branches outside. As the beast's hand opened, revealing its true intent, Arteus felt the world around him come to a standstill.
With a swiftness that belied his tender years, he launched himself, a blur of fury in the dim light. His being sliced through the monster's flesh as if it were but a wisp of fog, and the creature's lifeblood spurted forth like a crimson fountain, painting the walls with a ghastly tableau of gore.
The beast fell, its massive form crushing the delicate instruments of Hannah's laboratory, a place where she had sought refuge and wisdom in the quiet hours of the night. Arteus caught his mother's body, cradling her to him as if she were as light as the feathers of an angel, his eyes never straying from the creature that had dared to harm her.
---
He bore her to her chamber, the silence of the house a mournful counterpoint to the tempest that raged without. With trembling hands, he laid her upon the bed, his eyes never leaving her serene, lifeless visage. The room, a battleground of fury and despair, stood as a silent witness to the battle that had claimed her.
He whispered his apologies, his voice a ragged sob, his heart a cavern of emptiness. "But for thee, mother," he murmured, "my gratitude is boundless."
And with those words, a soft, sorrowful smile flitted across his lips as he shrouded her in a garment of purest white, her eyes forever closed to the world that had brought her such pain. He took a moment, his hand lingering upon her forehead, to bid her a final farewell.
---
The house, once a bastion of warmth and love, now stood a charred ruin, a monument to the darkness that had claimed it. Arteus had set it ablaze, a funeral pyre to purge the evil that had stained its walls. He walked away from the inferno, his heart heavy with the weight of his loss.
He knew not what fate awaited him, only that he must follow the path that lay before him. With a heavy heart, he turned his back on the flaming specter of his past, his eyes fixed upon the horizon, where the shadows of destiny called to him from the night.
---
For you see gentle reader, the chronicle of Arteus Montfreed, a tale of love and loss, of valor and vengeance, had but begun. The darkness that had descended upon Barley had taken much, but it had also granted him a purpose—to unravel the mysteries of the monstrous visitation and to avenge the loss of all that was dear.
In the days that lay ahead, he would tread a path fraught with peril, each step a silent oath to the memory of Hannah, the woman whose love had been his beacon in the dark. And as the flames of his home devoured the last vestige of his innocence, so too did the boy he had been fade away, leaving only the man who would rise to confront the horrors that lurked in the shadows of his existence.
-To Be Continued-