A Voice in the Wind

There is another

A voice echoes.

Iris…

The voice beckons.

Find her… Save them…

The voice fades into silence but is replaced with the growing sounds of deathly moans.

The voices of the damned slowly creeps up to her, muttering incoherently, cursing her in cryptic nonsense. The voices took shape, forming into an amalgamation of hollowed faces. Iris struggled from the approaching monstrosity, but she couldn’t move. Fear enveloped the fallen angel, as she screamed out in terror. The monstrosity subdued Iris and moved closer to her face. Paralyzed and terrified, all she could do was watch. The entity took the form of her mother, a kind gentle face appeared from it.

“Don’t be afraid, Iris.”

The face smiled crookedly.

“Soon, you’ll join us and we will be together, forever and ever and ever…”

The voice trailed on as its face melted into the entity.

Iris tried screaming but the amalgamation covers her mouth with its misshapen body. Iris wore a look of fear as the creature stares at her. She closes her eyes and averts her gaze, powerless to fight back. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes was watering, she was drowning in cold sweat.

Wake up.

Iris opens her eyes. She was staring at a wooden ceiling. Iris sat up straight, drenched in cold sweat, her face still twisted from the horror she felt. Iris looks down, a bed made from animal hide with a linen blanket covering her legs. She inspects her surroundings.

A wooden workbench shoved into the corner, with a myriad of tools on it. On the desk was an unfinished carving of a totem, one familiar to the Goddess of the hunt. A long bow and a spear rests beside the workbench. Near the workbench was a sunken hearth with burnt firewood at the bottom. Above it a small cauldron with seemingly nothing in it suspended by a metal rod and two metal poles. On the side of her bed, was a small wooden table with a single chair placed directly under a wooden shutter. A small cottage owned by a hunter.

Iris slowly slides out of bed. As she does, a sharp pain in her leg stops her from moving. Iris unpeels the linen covers and finds her right leg bandaged and badly bruised. The bandage revealed a small patch of red likely coming from the wound. Iris grimaces from the pain.

BANG!

Iris turns to the sound and stretches out her right arm. Magic gathers in her palm, her eyes filled with panic. Standing at the door was a rugged and bearded man clothed in animal fur. He raises both his hands slowly, surrendering to the frightened angel.

Realising her mistake, the angel heaves a sigh of relief and lowers her arm. The man does so as well, taking a deep breath. The man steps towards Iris, and fumbles for his belt. He stretches out his arm, offering her his canteen. Parched, the angel begrudgingly accepts it.

“You were close to death when I found you.” The man spoke.

Iris chugs the canteen filled with refreshing water. As she was done, she hands over the canteen. The man takes it back.

“Where were you headed?” He questioned.

Iris looks down at the linen sheets, unwilling to answer.

“Can’t say?”

Silence.

The man hangs his head and stands up. He walks towards the long bow and grabs it. He heads for the door but stops at its entrance.

“I had your leg bandaged and treated. You should be able to move again in a few days.”

With that, the man leaves and shuts the door behind him.

Iris stares solemnly at her leg.

Iris didn’t want anyone else involved in her quest, especially someone who had saved her. Except, she couldn’t remember what exactly happened.

All she could remember was leaving Miltown, and her encounter with the demons. The fight with them was foggy, but she could feel a sharp pain in her leg that made her unexpectedly weak. Then something happened, and a voice started calling out for her. The next thing she knew, he was there wearing a look of concern. However, the voice that called out to her was soft and feminine. Whose voice was it? It felt familiar, yet, there was something odd about it. The voice was crying out in terror, yet it didn’t feel like it was in any danger.

Iris rubbed her injured leg, lost in thought.

It was strange. She remembered that voice, someone whom she had met a long time ago.

The answer wouldn’t come to Iris easily. Her leg was sore, and she couldn’t move it without pain coursing through her body. She was stuck here until she could move again.

Iris laid back in bed. Her eyes grew heavy, her strength slowly being sapped out of her as she let out a yawn. She was strangely fatigued, as if all her energy had been drained. She closed her eyes slowly as she drifted back into a deep sleep.

Wake up…

Iris shuffles uncomfortably in bed.

Wake up…

She opens her eyes.

A familiar face standing right beside her staring straight at her.

“I made you some soup.”

Iris sits up from the bed as the hunter hands over a wooden bowl that smelled of a fresh, delicious aroma. In it, a wooden spoon had already been placed inside. Iris’s stomach growled as she inhaled its luscious scent. She places a hand over her stomach, but she was reluctant to eat it.

“Don’t worry, it won’t kill you.”

Iris turns to the man as he gives a little smirk. He leaves Iris and goes to the cauldron which was being heated by the sunken flaming hearth. Iris turns to her bowl and inspected its contents.

A cloudy broth, laced with bits of meat, mushrooms and herbs. The hot soup had a welcoming and familiar aura around it, beckoning Iris to taste it.

Iris picks up the spoon and drinks it cautiously. Suddenly, Iris’s eyes gleamed. The flavor of the broth was nothing she had ever tasted at all. It had a salty yet savory taste to it that hypnotized her to keep eating more. Iris held up her bowl and started devouring her meal; drinking every last bit of her soup.

Surprised, the hunter smiles contently as he began to eat his.

The two were done with their meals.

The man got up and offered to get another bowl of soup for her. Iris’s eyes brightened like a child and she nodded in a polite yet reserved manner. The man came back with her second meal and she began slurping it down like a pint of ale.

The man then pulls out the rugged looking wooden chair by the table and sits beside the bed frame.

“So, you’re an angel, right?”

Iris continues to chug her soup.

“What’s your name?”

The angel finishes her soup, leaving no trace of the delicious meal. Her hands relaxed, placing the bowl on her lap.

“Iris.”

The hunter gives a friendly smile and takes away the bowl.

“My name is Jack, I’m a hunter around these woods.”

Iris smiles back at Jack.

“Thank you, Jack.”

“It was no problem at all, I couldn’t just leave a maiden like you to fend for herself.”

Jack gave a hearty chuckle. Iris smiles sadly.

“What were you doing all the way in Valenza?”

With that question, Iris’s smile turns into a solemn expression. Iris grips her linen sheets and answers hesitantly.

“To find them…”

Perplexed, Jack presses on.

“To find… who?”

Iris tightens her grip. Violent memories flood her mind, clouding her will to answer. She grits her teeth in fear and anger as the memories of those demons came rushing to her.

In her moment of distress, Jack decides to cut off the conversation.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jack gets up and places their bowls near the burning cauldron. He stops in his tracks and turns to Iris.

“I’ll be outside. Scream for me if you need my help.”

The hunter smiles at her sheepishly as Iris looks back at him and solemnly nods.

With that, Jack leaves the cottage, closing the door gently behind him.

Silence.

The crickets were chirping loudly, a peaceful night about to begin.

Iris hangs her head; her blonde hair covering her face, shielding her from scrutiny. A soft weep escapes her silent demeanor as teardrops dampen the sheets beneath her. Iris wipes away her teardrops, but she couldn’t stop it. Iris starts sniffing loudly. The memories of her broken past came running back to her.

“Mother, I’m sorry…” Iris mumbles softly.

The moon shines brightly in the night sky, Illuminating the darkness on Valenza’s surface. By the wooden shutter, a lone hunter loiters, listening to the angel’s cries.

The morning sun rises from the horizon. Puffy grey clouds cover its brilliant light, softening its gaze on the ground below. Jack awakens from the sound of chirping birds; his makeshift tent unable to shield him from the sound of mother nature. Jack rises from his pelted sleeping rug, groggy and parched. He reaches for his canteen and chugs it down. Jack stands up and exits the tent. As he takes in his first breath of morning dew, he notices a limping blonde woman in a white dress with dark wings attempting to exit the vicinity. As his eyes adjusted to the sun, he finally realizes who it was. He sprints towards Iris as she takes flight.

“Iris!”

Jack manages to reach Iris, but it was too late. Iris had already taken to the sky, but she appeared weak and distracted. He wings flapped weakly, as if its energy had been sapped away the moment she took off. Iris struggles to keep afloat, leading to her eventual fall.
Jack catches her. Her face twisted in immense pain, her body frail and light. Her wings disappear into thin air. She grimaced silently staring straight at her injured leg. It was swelling.

In a panic, Jack rushes back home and places her gently on his bed. He unwraps the bandages on her leg. Jack was taken aback. The swelling is of a purplish black, it was oozing a strange purple liquid, unlike anything he had seen before. The swell stunk of a rotting corpse, forcing Jack to cover his mouth.

“A curse.” She muttered. “I knew it wasn’t ordinary…”

Jack couldn’t move, he was frozen in horror.

“Jack.” Iris grabs his wrist. Jack turns to Iris.

“I need you to place your hand over the swelling.”

Jack looks at Iris, astonished. Iris meets his eyes with a pained yet serious gaze.

Swallowing his fear, Jack complies and hovers his hand over the swell. A prickling sensation builds up on his palm.

“Concentrate on the swell, do not move your hand.” Iris commanded.

Jack nods.

Iris tightens her grip and mutters a prayer.

“O’ mother in heaven, in sickness and health.
Your name etched in good, unsullied, pure.”

Iris’s wings reappeared, stretching out gracefully.

“Shield me from evil, as I offer my body to you.”

A surge of light springs out of nowhere, a holy pentagram materializes from the bottom of the bed.

“I dedicate my soul to you, my dear mother!”

Iris grabs Jack’s hand. Jack closes his eyes.

“Purge thy curse from thy body!”

The air grew still, a momentary silence ensues. A surge of mana courses through Jack and onto his palm. A ray of light emanates from his palm, enveloping the swell. In a split second, a flash of light engulfs the cottage.

Jack opens his eyes. The swelling was completely gone, but her skin shone a pinkish red and a deep scar resembling that of an arrow wound. Jack heaves a sigh of relief.

“Hey, are you al-“

Iris was fast asleep, her face resembling that of a sleeping child. Her hand was still gripping tightly onto his hand, unwilling to let go.

Jack smiles and mutters, “Rest well, Iris.”