Witch of Fear [Mild horror, Isekai High Fantasy]

The storm had grown worse. Over a night and a day, it'd gathered into an impenetrable cover that blocked out the sun and stars. Lightning flashed between the looming grey, almost black, cloud banks. Occasionally, the storm would disgorge its electric fury upon the world below with mighty booms. The thunderous blows rocked the earth, shaking the castle of carved stone to its foundations.

Those cowering within the keep could only pray for salvation and survival.

To them, it seemed as if the gods were wroth with them. Zeus flung his mighty bolts. Fulgora passed her javelins to Jupiter to cast. Thor struck giants with ringing blows. Perun lobbed his thunderbolt stones with tremendous strength. Even distant Shango and Oya had made the pilgrimage to this land along with the wise Dianmu and the ferocious Raijin.

Even the Christian God was sending their flood to drown the world.

Such was the fury of the storm.

Matilda stood atop the walls watching the rain and wind. The wooden hoardings did their best to shelter her from the worst of nature's fury, but it still sent rain to slick the stones at her feet. A deep chill whistled past her. At its behest, she wrapped her warm scarf tighter. A nearby torch provided added welcoming warmth.

Sheets of rain blurred the horizon as the sun set.

Matilda's mind was elsewhere; she couldn't stop thinking about that prisoner.

Many questions echoed in her mind: Who were they? What were they? Why were they here? How did they get here? And, most important of all, why did her mind insist she needed to talk to them and learn... something important?

What that important thing was, she had no clue, but she itched to know.

It was like there was a tick burying itself into her brain, and she wanted nothing more than to pull it free.

Matilda ducked her reddened nose into her scarf as the wind howled around her. Turning away from the view, she retraced her steps down off the wall, taking care not to slip on its rain-slick steps. Upon reaching the bottom, she gazed out over the courtyard and despaired, for the rain had turned it into a muddy mire.

Great streams carved through the yard's aged face. They wore at the cobblestones. Tore at the paths many feet had pounded into packed earth. Onward and downward it flowed, heading towards the main gate and stables nestled beside. Drains and the shuttered portcullis fortunately kept the keep from flooding in its entirety.

This fact hardly helped Matilda as her destination, the kitchens, lay on the other side of the ruined courtyard.

Sighing to herself, she hiked up her skirt and rushed out into the downpour. She fought valiantly to save her cloth shoes from the worst of the mud, but ultimately, that effort was in vain.

Heavy rain pounded down on her slight frame as she ran.

By the time she reached the other side, the rain had almost completely drenched her outer layer.

Shivering, Matilda shouldered the heavy door barring her way open. The howling tore past her, almost knocking her off her feet as it sought to ravage the bowels of the castle with its icy bite. Matilda heaved herself through the opening before turning to shut the door behind her. The wind fought her for every inch. With great strength and force of will, she slammed the door shut with a mighty boom. The sound of the latch falling into place echoed in the sudden startling silence.

Matilda took a moment to catch her breath.

Once sufficiently rested, she descended into the underworld. Her footsteps echoed loudly on the worn stone steps.

The kitchen was abuzz when Matilda entered. Fires roared beneath large bubbling cauldrons, disgorging their warmth and the scent of cooking into the large stone room. Other Scully maids like herself bustled about the place as they tended their stations. They diced and cut preserved meats and vegetables taken from the store before adding them to the bubbling broth. An aroma of baked bread filled the air as others took golden loaves out of brick ovens. There was even a smell of spices in the air.

Matilda's stomach announced itself rather loudly.

After liberating a slice of bread and some meat from a nearby station, much to the grumbling of the maid tending it, Matilda looked for Hetty amidst the chaos. It took her only a few moments to find her.

"Hetty!" Matilda called to her friend around a mouthful of food.

Hearing her name, Hetty turned. Her face scrunched up as she caught sight of Matilda. "Oh, it's just you," she said.

"Hey! Is that any way to treat a friend!" Matilda complained as she sidled up beside Hetty at her cookfire. Stretching her hands out, she set about warming them and the rest of herself up.

Hetty gave her a look. "It is when you abandoned me to go do... whatever it was that you were doing. Why are you soaked anyway? Why anyone, let alone you, would go out in this weather when they don't need to, I don't know."

"Never mind that! I've something I want to ask you."

"If it's another harebrained scheme of yours, then I don't want to know."

"Aw, don't be like that! When have I ever steered you wrong?"

Hetty just raised her eyebrow disbelievingly.

Blushing, Matilda waved her arms frantically. "Uh, I meant lately. As in today, my best and most beautiful friend in the entire castle and lands thereabout!"

"I'm your only friend."

"That doesn't make it any less true! And what a friend you are!" Matilda exclaimed.

Hetty sighed and raised her eyes as if seeking guidance from the stone ceiling above. "Alright, sheesh, I'll listen, just stop making a scene or else you'll get us both in trouble. Again."

"It's nothing too bad."

"You're not off to a good start."

"And you said you'd listen!" Matilda huffed loudly and crossed her arms. She waited as her friend raised her hands in acquiescence before continuing. "Alright, so what I need is for you to distract a pair of guards for me. I just need them to stop paying attention for a short while. Can you manage that for me, please?"

"And where, pray tell, are these guards located, and what are they guarding? I'm not helping you break into the armory."

"Um, they're guarding the cells?"

Hetty groaned. "Matilda! You're still going on about this?!"

"I know, I know," Matilda said. "I just need to do this, Hetty."

"You'll get caught! And if you do, the best you can hope for is just losing your job. They'll hang you if they think you're a spy!" Hetty hissed. "or worse! I love you like a sister, but I'm not getting involved in your madness. Not this time." Hetty turned away from Matilda to stir the stew she was tending. Over her shoulder, she added. "And you should just forget about the whole thing."

"I can't!" Matilda said hotly. "I just can't."

Hearing the distress in her friend's voice, Hetty looked at Matilda with concern.

Matilda stared into her eyes unblinkingly. "I just can't, Hetty. It's like... it's like there is a... a red-hot iron poking my thoughts, urging me to go and see. To ask questions and hear their answers. Answers to questions I don't even know. I need to talk to them. I need to see them. Or else..." she paused. "Or else I have a feeling I might die if I don't."

"You'll die?"

"It's just a feeling," Matilda shrugged. "I can't really explain it."

Hetty stared at Matilda for a long while, the stew forgotten behind her.

What she was looking for, Matilda didn't know, but she hoped her friend would see her sincerity and help her. If not, she'd just have to forge on without her. It'd be harder, but she couldn't let things end here.

Eventually, Hetty let out a resigned sigh. "Alright, fine, I'll help you, but... Argh! Get off me, you rat, you're still soaked!" she complained as Matilda enthusiastically hugged her. She glared at her friend until they separated. Smoothing down her dress, she continued. "But if you get caught, I wasn't involved, got it?"

Matilda nodded. "Got it."

"So, what was your plan?"

"Um, plan?"

Hetty closed her eyes. "Yes, Matilda, how were you thinking I'd distract the guards?"

"Uh, by using your..." Matilda's eyes darted down to her friend's ample cleavage and bust. Respectfully, of course. "...charming conversational skills?"

"God help me with this idiot," Hetty muttered. Her eyes bore into Matilda's as she adjusted her dress slightly lower, daring her to comment.

Wisely, she did not.

Once she'd fixed her appearance, and finished glaring at Matilda, Hetty reached out and grabbed the arm of another girl roughly their age passing by. "Charlotte," she said pleasantly, "take over for me, would you? Thanks, owe you one!"

Hetty took off before the other girl could reply.

Matilda gave her an apologetic smile before chasing after her friend.

The pair picked their way through the chaos towards the stone steps leading down deeper into the depths of the keep. As they were passing by a table laden with jugs full of ale, Hetty paused briefly to grab one and took it with them.

"Good call," Matilda said.

Hetty just rolled her eyes.

The stairs down were just as ominously dark as they'd been the last time Matilda had dared to venture into the darkness under the castle. Things chittered in the corners of her eyes, darting hither and thither from shadow to shadow and place to place. Ahead, Hetty strode unconcerned. Lidless eyes watched unseen. Tendrils of shadow reached out to grasp her, failing always. A forest of kelp swayed in an unfelt current.

Matilda blinked.

Only the stairs remained, and her friend descending them.

She followed.

They stopped at the bottom. Before them stretched a long hallway that was lit sporadically by flickering torches. Servants had been coming and going down here all day, fetching food, water, wood, and anything else the beating heart of the castle might need, so it wouldn't be that strange if anyone saw them head down here. However, the cells were another matter.

Hetty hadn't been wrong in saying that Matilda would be in a lot of trouble if she was caught snooping around

She just hoped Hetty could lure the guards away long enough to sneak in.

"Alright," Matilda whispered. "You go on ahead and distract them with your jugs, er, jug, I meant jug. Just the one. Of ale."

Hetty smacked Matilda on the shoulder with her free hand. "Idiot," she said before sauntering forward.

Giving her friend some time to get ahead of her, Matilda carefully removed her shoes to soften her footsteps and tucked them away behind a nearby dusty barrel. The stone was icy underfoot, but her steps made hardly a sound. Slowly, she padded after her friend.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The castle's dungeon branched off the main hallway halfway down, so it didn't take Hetty much time to reach it. She paused there, looking back towards Matilda. The pair shared a look before Matilda nodded and ducked into a nearby storeroom to wait. She left the door slightly ajar to watch.

Hetty took a breath, put on a sultry smile, and strode around the corner.

A pair of voices called out, and Matilda heard Hetty reply.

From where she hid, Matilda couldn't understand what was being said. Inside her chest, her heart beat wildly. She waited, taking slow, shallow breaths. Time ticked by, grain by grain. Just as she thought that something had gone wrong, she saw Hetty return, this time with a pair of familiar guards in tow.

What were their names again? Matilda thought to herself. Peter and Matthias?

The guard named Peter turned to look back over his shoulder at the corner they'd just turned, a look of anxiety plastered across his face. Quietly, he addressed the other guard. "Is it alright for us to leave our post like this? What if it escapes?"

"How?" Matthias snorted. "Both his cell door and the one to the Donjon are locked, and I've got the only keys," he said, patting his side where a ring of keys jingled. Matilda cursed silently. "He ain't going anywhere, and besides, I think we've earned ourselves a cold drink and a hot meal served to us by a fine wench after having spent days down in this damp hole. You can go back if you like, but I ain't passing up the opportunity."

"But what if somebody sneaks in?"

"Who?" Hetty asked. "Nobody in their right mind would want to spend any time down here in the dark and cold."

Matilda could feel the heat of her glare through the door.

"Damn right," Matthias grumbled. "It's a shitty detail, iffen you'll pardon my language, girl."

Giggling, Hetty waved him off politely. "I've heard worse. And if it'll put you two at ease, you'll both be sitting right next to the stairs; nobody could pass by without you seeing them. You'll be doing the same job, just in the warm."

"Listen to the girl, boy!"

"I suppose you're right," Peter admitted. "Only someone truly mad would want to look upon that devil, anyway."

Hetty laughed.

Hidden behind the door, Matilda grumbled silently to herself.

The trio's footsteps slowly faded. Matilda listened intently at the ajar door as they left the underground for the warm kitchen above and the promised food and drinks. When the sound of their conversation finally vanished, she eased the door open and peeked her head out, looking both ways. The corridor was empty.

Matilda breathed a sigh of relief and thanked Hetty under her breath.

As carefully and quietly as she could, Matilda exited the dusty storeroom and gently shut the door behind her. The slight thud it made upon closing made her wince. She waited for a cry of alarm or for the guards to return to investigate the sound, but after a moment of waiting and nothing happening, she relaxed and moved on. Quietly, she hurried down the corridor toward the dungeon.

Turning the corner, she got her first good look at it.

Long ago, when the Lord's ancestors had commissioned the castle, they had their chief architect design the jail of the castle to be built directly into the rock that the main keep would come to sit upon. As such, it was both the most secure part of the castle and its darkest and dampest. Moisture slicked the walls as it trickled through the rock. The scent of minerals and rain filled the desolate air.

The prison itself was small. It held only one main room and a set of six cramped cells; three to the east and three to the west. To the north hung many instruments of torture and interrogation, glinting in the faint candlelight alongside a handful of rusty iron manacles. In the corner sat a dark-stained torture rack and a stockade.

A table sat in the center of the room, bordered by a pair of old chairs. Discarded cups rested on its weathered top beside a half-filled jug of water and a few worn coins. A small candlestick provided the only source of light for the chamber; the tiny flame burned languidly.

The room was empty.

However, before Matilda could enter, she needed to get past the door first. It was thick and banded with iron. Testing it, she found it locked, just as the guard, Matthias, had claimed.

Matilda cursed quietly under her breath.

Peering through the small window of bars set into the door, she tried to see which cell the strange prisoner was in. She spotted a hunched figure shaded by shadow in the middle western cell. Only the slight rise and fall of their chest betrayed their life.

"What do I do now?" Matilda said as she tried the door once more. It remained stubbornly locked. "How am I supposed to get in? Wait. Didn't I…" Patting herself down, she retrieved the set of lockpicks she'd stolen from the farrier. "Ah ha! Now, I just need to…"

Crouching down, Matilda peered at the door's lock. It was a blocky thing set into the door, and she had no clue how to pick it. She looked down at the picklocks in her hand and sighed.

"Here goes nothing."

Her first go at picking the lock ended in disaster. The picklock broke inside the lock with a loud snap.

"Shit!" she swore.

Thankfully, the broken half was easy to remove.

Frustrated tears welled up in Matilda's eyes. She tossed the broken pick onto the floor in anger.

"Goddamn it!"

Behind her eyes, a headache built. "Not now!" It grew and grew and grew. Pain. An all-encompassing pain assaulted her mind, forcing a half-bitten groan from her lips. She pressed her palms against her eyes and her temples to force it away. Nothing helped. The pain just grew.

Just as suddenly as it came, it vanished.

Matilda gasped in relief.

Her hands moved on their own.

Opening her eyes wide in shock, she watched as they picked the lockpicks back up and re-inserted them in the door's lock. They moved slowly, possessed by some new instincts. Her hands didn't instantly unlock the door, but moved with knowledge not her own. It was like a part of her had seen to pick a door but had never practiced the art.

Still, it was leagues better than what Matilda had attempted.

After a few tense moments, the door's lock let out a cha-chunk as it disengaged, and the door itself let out a quiet creek as it cracked.

"Uh, thanks?" Matilda thanked her hands, which had returned under her control. "I'm just going to ignore that for now."

Quickly moving through the door, she entered the jail and made a beeline for the only occupied cell, snatching up the candlestick on her way past the table.

Light spilled across the hunched form as she drew closer.

They were no devil, of that Matilda was sure. They were Fey; an Elf of lore.

Hair of gold sat upon moonlight skin. A pair of long ears peeked through the golden strands framing sharp features. Even with his face buried in his risen knees and coated with a layer of grime, Matilda could make out a set of soft, almond-shaped eyes, a proud nose, and a pair of pale-pink and full lips.

He possessed an otherworldly beauty.

Crouching down, Matilda placed the candlestick on the ground and peered at the hunched figure.

"Hello," she breathed. "Can you hear me?"

Crystal blue eyes darted up.

A voice soft as a still pond filled her ears. "You're not my usual nightmare."

"No. I, um, I wanted to ask you a few questions, if that's alright?"

"You..." the elf looked upon Matilda's face in the dim candlelight, searching for some recognition. His eyes widened suddenly. "Halowyn? Is that you?" he asked desperately. Rising from his hunch, he grasped the bars separating them tightly. His knuckles turned bone white. "But how? I... I thought you died. You're alive. Hahaha. You're alive."

There was such relief in his voice that it broke Matilda's heart.

"Do you... do you recognize me, Halowyn?"

Matilda wanted to say no. She wanted to correct him, to tell him she wasn't who he thought she was, but the words wouldn't come. Looking over him, it was clear he was in a fragile state of mind, and she didn't want to cause him more distress or agitate him. While she doubted anyone would hear him if he started yelling, she didn't want to risk it.

Just as she was about to speak, a name bubbled up onto her lips from deep within her subconscious.

"Ralo?" she asked.

The elf's eyes lit up. "Yes! Haha! Yes, it is me, Halowyn. You recognize me. You recognize your sweet Ralo." Suddenly, his gaze sharpened. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

"The people here-"

"Damn the humans!" Ralo snarled. "They are but memories! False! It is not them you should fear, but the monster. It hunts us. Hurts us. Haunts us. You must flee!"

Matilda started. "Monster? What monster? I've seen no monster."

"The shadow. It is the eater of memories. It cloaks itself in illusions, in a false hide of stolen thoughts and lives. It hungers eternally for that which it cannot make. Noble heroes of old trapped it within a prison, this prison, long ago. We've inadvertently stumbled upon its feeding grounds and become its prey! You must away before it's too late! Please!"

"I w-will. But what do you mean: 'before it's too late?' Too late for what?"

Ralo slumped at her question, his sudden strength consumed. "Too late to escape. The beast of shades feasts upon souls, spirits and memories. It gathers and stores them here like a forest-hunter before a long winter. It cares not for the physical flesh. While it traps our minds, it leaves our mortal shells to decay."

"My body fell to thirst and hunger before time turned it to black sand."

Matilda watched as horror flashed through the elf's eyes, her own mind flashing with the same terror. Mustering himself, he turned his crystal blue gaze back towards the one whom he thought his lover. "But it's not too late for you, my love. You must away. Away before you perish with me. Perish and be trapped forevermore inside the beast's larder."

He was speaking the truth, as horrifying as that was.

"But how? How can I escape?" Matilda asked desperately.

Ralo exhaled. "The exit. There is an exit. An exit to this trial to match its entrance. You must find it. Find it and leave."

"Where?"

"In its nest. The beast cannot travel through it, but it guards it jealously. It is somewhere high. That is all I know, for I never made it. It trapped me before I could find it."

Matilda slumped back and rested on her heels. A headache burned her mind, whining in her ears like a thousand birds screeching. She licked her lips.

If all this was true, then what was real?

Was Hetty? Were the other servants and guards? What about Lady Else?

What about herself? Was she real or just a memory?

Was anything real?

"There... there was a key?" Matilda muttered. "Keys to a... crypt or a tomb, right?"

Ralo blinked. "Yes. Yes, there is. Three keys to free the pharaoh. He will... will... grant us freedom."

The elf surged to life once more. Reaching out, he grasped Matilda's arm like a drowning man in a storm. She tried to free herself, but he clasped her like iron. It didn't hurt, but she couldn't move away.

"Find the key! You must!" he pleaded. "Find all three and free him! He is the last hope for our people! Without him, we'll be lost to the sands forever. Our nation will always be but dogs and sand. Please!"

Matilda flinched at the fire in his eyes. "I-I will. I'll find them, I promise. Where is the one you took?"

At her reassurance, the fire dimmed in the elf's eyes. He let go of Matilda and slumped back bonelessly.

"It took it. I think it recognized it."

"The beast took it?" Matilda asked.

Ralo nodded. "Yes. Took it to its nest. I... It's hard to remember, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You said it's somewhere high? Same place as the exit."

"I think so."

His words were coming slower now. Looking into his eyes, Matilda could see that they were losing the spark of coherence and life the sight of her had inspired within him.

He was fading.

"Halowyn?" he muttered. "Where are you? It's so dark. Where are you, my love?"

"I-I'm here. Come back. I've more questions."

Ralo didn't seem to hear her. "Halowyn? Oh, Halowyn. Where art thou? Where have you gone? I miss you. Halowyn."

"Ralo?" Matilda whispered.

She got no reply; the elf just continued to repeat his lost lover's name over and over.

Matilda stood up. She took one last look at the ghost locked away in the cell before turning and walking away. Idly, she placed the candlestick back in its place on the table. It waved goodbye as she left the prison behind.

A thousand thoughts ran wild through her mind.

Her questions had been asked and answered, even the ones she'd not known to ask.

Was it worth it, she wondered, or would ignorance have been preferable?

The world wasn't real.

She knew that for a fact. It settled deep in her gut like a stone. All the things she'd tried to ignore now leapt to her attention. An imp darted out of a shadow, poking its tongue out at her. She stood on its tail. The imp crashed to a halt. Looking over its misshapen shoulder, it gulped as it met eyes darker than coal.

In all their cruel japes and mockery, they'd forgotten just who was sleeping under the young maid's skin.

Forgotten she was a witch.

Matilda blinked, and the imp was gone.

The shadows watched her warily now, no longer laughing.

After checking to make sure the guards weren't returning, Matilda hurried down the corridor toward the stairs. Her feet slapped against the icy stone floor. She stopped at the base of the stairs to retrieve her muddy shoes from where she'd left them. As she was slipping them on, a curious sound echoed down from above.

The tolling of bells.

Strange. They only did that on a Sunday or if...

Matilda rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The kitchen was in chaos and empty besides. Pots and pans lay scattered around the room like a storm had rolled through. Meals lay uneaten on benchtops and tables, and a jug of ale had been spilled on the floor. Matilda almost slipped in her hurry, luckily catching herself on a nearby bench before she ended up falling.

Up here, the bells rang much louder.

Of her friend and the two guards, there was no sign.

Turning quickly, Matilda hurried over to the stairs leading up to the courtyard and rushed up them just as fast as she took the last. At the top, the oaken door barred her path.

Hot sweat trickled down her spine as she paused for air, sucking down massive gulps. Her side ached something fierce.

When she'd recovered enough, Matilda pressed her shoulder to the door and put her all into opening it. The wind fought her the entire way. It roared in her face as soon as a crack appeared. Slowly, Matilda forced her way out into the storm. The door slammed closed behind her.

The rain pounded unrelentingly on the world still, not having let up in the slightest in the time she was underground. Guards rushed to and fro under the downpour. Shouted orders were lost in the howl of wind and rain. Most were heading to the top of the walls, armed and armored.

Matilda followed.

Upon reaching the top, she found a window to look out over the world beyond. For a minute, she thought the land had been inverted. Hundreds upon thousands of stars shone brightly across the hills and plains surrounding the castle. Or perhaps they were fireflies come to nest in the muddy earth. If that was what fireflies did. But no, that wasn't what Matilda was seeing at all.

They were torches.

Tens of thousands of torches

An army had come to the castle, and they didn't look friendly at all.