What was it ?

Life… or Death ?

One is the nemesis of the other. Yet, they are so intertwined and linked to each other.

Men were granted Life, and with it, Desire .

Men were given Death, and with it, Dread.

And between Hope and Despair lies one’s fate. Maybe… maybe, it was planned from the beginning. Or perhaps, it is forged by… one’s heart.

Maybe it is no different than the metal worked by a Blacksmith.

He would work with iron metal and would hammer it every day after making it hot and malleable. In his forge, he would create many things: tools, horseshoes, weapons, and armors.

The young man was working hard. One would have said that he was a boy with a chubby face but he was simply too large to be a child. He was oblivious to everything except for the task at hand. His body was not that muscular but his skill was remarkable at first sight.

His focus, however, was interrupted by the arrival of a new client. The person walked in and it seemed he was a traveler but his attire gave him a sinister and mysterious aura. A black, simple and worn out garb covered his vest and trousers. A bizarre mask resembling that of a pagan’s hid his face except for his green eyes and the whole outfit made it impossible for the viewer to recognize the traveler’s gender.

“Oh… hello there! W-welcome to our forge! How can I h-help you?” The young Blacksmith was a little frustrated.

“I heard there was a skilled craftsman in this village. Is he you?’’ A female voice resonated from behind the mask. The man was further surprised that this dark guest was a woman.

“Umm… Yes. It is me.”

“You are doing more than smithing.’’ The masked woman was observing around the shop.

“Ah—hh, yes, you can say. My main skill is smithing but I can craft furniture and candles too.’’ said the craftsman.

“Very well. I want you to craft a large scythe for wheat-harvesting.”

It was a strange demand from the mysterious woman. The smith wondered why one would need a scythe while winter was so close. Furthermore, he concluded that she was not from this land at all as wheat could never grow in these cold black forests. But he had to respond gently:

“I see. A scythe … Hmm. It has been a long time since I crafted one but I will do my best anyway.“

“When will it be done?” Said the woman coldly.

“To be honest, I have a lot of work to do but I will make sure to finish it in two days. You are clearly a traveler and I do not want to hinder your journey.’’ Responded the man.

She was leaving the scene without saying another word. The man was tempted to ask her about something.

“Excuse me… But you are not from around here? From which land did you come? How could you go unnoticed by the Tribal Knights?”

“That’s none of your business, Craftsman. Make sure to complete your work and I will pay you well. That’s it.” Her tone was threatening.

“ Yes, madam.’’ He was extremely scared. Well, he was a coward and he knew it himself. After she had left, he sighed deeply out of relief. He thought about informing the Order of the Tribal Knights about this strange traveler. She might become a threat for the peace of the land but he feared that he would get involved with her and get accused of treachery because he had made a deal with a heretic. He cursed his own self for being so stubborn.

“Damn! What must I do now?! When will I stop being a frail chicken?!” said the man furiously. To relieve himself from stress, he continued his work.

After some time, he decided to go to the Village’s center to acquire some supplies. His name was Zoran. He had nothing special except for his incredible skill at crafting things from raw materials. His fame transcended the boundaries of his village to the capital of the land itself. He refused any offer to work for Nobilities or Knighthoods and he was just enjoying working every day doing the same routine in his workshop in the calm and gentle forest of Perun. Nothing of his past was known. He claimed that he did not know it himself. He just remembered that he lost his parents in a great fire and he remained alone for a long time before discovering his talent. For him, craftsmanship was everything.

This was the great land of Crodon. Each of its many villages was inhabited by a Tribe but what unified them was the order of the Tribal Knights.

Here in the village of Perun, most people were farmers and fishermen. Merchants were less common as they were mostly coming from other villages or lands. It was a lively place, vibrant with activity and trade. But one must grease the wheels to get anywhere. The Tribal Knights gained much power in Crodon. They were considered as the bringers of Light and Goodness to all tribes and were respected and feared. No one can even run a shop without their blessing. Zoran was very lucky since his skill was unmatched.

The stares of maidens were fixated at him. His selling point was not his handsomeness but his modesty. He was indifferent. He only cared for his passion. Others would spread rumors about him being a ghost, a demon, or a warlock since his life style was unordinary. For that, he usually hated the time when he was forced to drop by the shops of the village to get what he needed.

He wondered , however , why no one was talking about the masked black garbed woman roaming around. He was the only one who saw her. Strange. He still had the urge to inform the Tribal Knights residing in his village about this possible heretic. Luckily, He saw two Tribal Knights patrolling the path and so decided to tell them.

“A masked woman? with a black robe? And she demanded from you to craft a large scythe for wheat-harvesting? This time your story is more interesting.’’ Said one knight.

“And she might be a heretic! It has a peculiar design that I had never seen before!“ added Zoran.

“Ah yes, very good. We will take care of her. Thank you for your cooperation.” Said the second knight.

The naïve blacksmith continued his way home while being so happy that he did his duty. The two knights were mocking him because they had never seen such a person around and even so there was no way for one to infiltrate this land easily with the many eyes they had spread everywhere.

“If that’s the case, they would catch her in no time. I must not worry about her anymore.” Said Zoran confidently.

The night had followed by supper time. He did not have a separate house despite gaining a lot of money from his work.

He started cleaning a table that he used to take meals at. Some moldy food was present and he was getting rid of it.

“I forgot to eat that again. Uhh… it’s so nasty.”

He had put some salted and smoked meat and few dried fruits, took his seat and then stared at his supposed meal. His mind went blank and did not think of anything. His body did not move at all and his eyes were hollow. It was as if he died.

Suddenly, his heart pulsed strongly and awakened him.

There was an unwelcomed guest at his door, the woman from before. He trembled in fear. « They must have captured her! How could she still be free until now?! » He thought.

“You have been in this state for a whole hour. You did not even budge.” Said the masked one.

“Ehh-h what are you talking about?” asked Zoran.

“You are an Undead, aren’t ya?”

This last sentence resonated in his head. An undead?! What an occult word! Although, it seemed familiar to him. He must have heard it somewhere else but he did not remember.

“Why are not you answering? Don’t try to fool me.” stated the woman.

“What are you talking a-about, you crazy woman?! I don’t know what are you t-talking about! Be g-gone or the Tribal Knights will pass the divine judgement upon y-you!’’ Uttered Zoran.

“Huh … this is strange. Normally, the beings of the night keep a safe distance when they see this mask. But you… you don’t know about me. And you are also different from the others. I feel that you are Undead since you were the only one capable of seeing me in this village but at the same time your humanity is still intact.” Stated the mysterious traveler.

His eyes widened, breaths ragged and harsh. Therefore, he stepped backwards trying to run away but she was blocking the only exit. He armed himself with a hammer and hid behind a package of iron ore.

“W-what do you want from me!? Go away and don’t come closer or I will kill-l… kill you!! Just go to another blacksmith!” stuttered the smith.

“I’m an Undead Hunteress and my job is clear: to obtain all of your heads. Ironically, the one in front of me is such a coward that I feel pity for him. It doesn’t matter anyway. No one will save you. Accept your fate.” Said the woman.

“I’m not an Undead! I don’t even know what you are talking about!” He was pleading here because he realized that she was after his ‘life’. She did take a curved blade from a bag at her back. It did not have any grip and did not resemble that of a sword. It was more fit to be a glaive or a scythe. Indeed from her own right arm, a mass of unknown matter spread and linked itself to the blade forming a polearm. Behind the mask, her eyes were glowing with a pale jade color.

She held her weapon and then swung it swiftly. The swing did produce a wave that aimed at her target’s head, ignoring any sort of physical matter.

Zoran realized that it was late for him as he could see his body headless. The blood was gushing from its neck and it fell. He was beheaded. The Huntress approached the head and took it. Perhaps she was mistaken about him being a vile being. The Soul should have been gone then. He died.

“Then how could he see me? Didn’t he realize that he is lost between two realms? His flesh and his blood seem so natural!’’

The Huntress was talking to herself until something stroke her with a hammer from behind. The strike would for sure break the spine of a human. It was so strong that it did push her to the other side of the workshop.

“This was painful. Things suddenly got serious.” She said that after getting up as if nothing had happened to her.

The headless body was standing firm, its heart was also glowing with a pale light resembling the same color of her eyes. It picked up the head and a violent voice was heard coming from within:

“Prince Melvim. Prince Melvim… We need you. You have to retake what it is rightfully yours ! The Throne ! The Throne of Velin! It’s your fate!“

A second voice came in, it was deep and that of an old man:

“The scourge of Velin had awakened what was forgotten and blurred the lines between the dead and the living. No, no… they must be stopped. Heaven forbid such cruelty… They stole our fates, and with them, our sanity.”

And the third one came after, it was feminine and hideous:

“Leave us, slayer of Undead. This body carries the weight of many fates. It is beyond your reach. Unless you want to join us too?”

To be continued…