Winter 55, 518
Execution Square
19th Bell
“He was lynched around a week ago, near as we could tell. Been making our life a livin’ torment ever since. No one can even come round here to enjoy the place. It's crazy, I tell you!”
On a good day, when Syna still shown her bright face on the world, the Execution Square was full of people. Berthers picnicked, cooked, camped, played and relaxed all in the shadow of a massive oak tree which dominated the center of the square. It's ancient, thick branches tangled through the air and all manner of creeping, chattering and feathery creatures made their homes in the branches. It was a warm and festive place, where the horrors of Sunberth seemed far away and long forgotten.
But on this day, the square was quiet. There was still the sound of chatter echoing from the old tree's branches, but the square itself was anxiously silent. No man, woman or child stirred in the area except to skirt around the square as if the grass of the square were poison.
Anja, of course, shared no such reservations. After some gentle coaxing, he had convinced his guide to enter the square and Anja now stood blinking in the shade of the great tree as Syna's light slowly faded and dusk approached. The tree carried an eerie light to it. Anja could not help but respect something that had endured for so long in a place as inhospitable as this city, but it was almost as if there was more to this oak then met the eye. Anja gently rested his hand against the bark of the trunk, and felt something old thrumming through his finger tips. The distant song of the dead, long forgotten in this place of happiness and life, hummed a dirge in the palm of Anja's hand.
Anja sighed softly and turned towards his companion. A spidery young man, lean, thin, and with veins popping through his pale, clammy skin twitched nervously in the shadow of a great tree. Bren, his name was. He reminded Anja of a skinny, anxious mouse.
“How did he die?” Anja asked. Anja could feel a dozen spirits calling out to him through the bark of the tree, begging to sing their story to him. But Anja was here for one soul in particular, and he needed more information.
“Ah, um well, y'see…” Bren mumbled nervously and glanced around him. “It was uh...sort of this thing…”
Anja waited patiently. A lower ranking member of the Sun's Berth, he had been called on to inform Anja of his latest job. The Eiyon was growing suspicious that he was not the slightest bit happy to be here.
“The ghost ah...he um, was an enemy to us so um...we had him taken care of, y'know?”
“So the Sun's Berth murdered him then?” Anja enquired patiently.
“No! Twasn't murder! Nothing like that!” The skinny man raised his hands up anxious, and glanced around frantically as if those words would bring baying hounds falling down on their heads. “He just fought back and we killed him! That was all!”
At Anja's shoulder, Maisa snorted skeptically. Anja signed an agreement at her before turning back to the man.
“He was hung from the tree, yes?”
A beat of silence met Anja's words. Following that beat, a single crow cawed above them, echoed by another until the air was filled with their mournful cries. Anja glanced upwards into the tree's depths. On one of the lower branches, an undersized, perhaps young, crow peered at him. The top of the creature's head was covered in pale white; a small bird skull covered it's features so that Anja could only make out its clever yellow eyes hiding behind it's mask. The beak of the crow parted, and it's voice joined into the cacophony of cries. After several chimes had passed, the birds fell silent. But the young crow's eyes remained on Anja.
Beside him, Bren shivered. “Godsdamned skull crows,” the berther muttered.
“What are they?” Anja asked.
“They're omens of death, that's what they are!” Anja's guide spat on the ground and growled. “You see them around you know someone is gonna die! Listen up, I can't stay here. This whole place is cursed so long as that ghost is here. Just get rid of it! We need this tree. The Sun's Berth will pay you well!” With that the man turned and vanished outside of the park, leaving Anja and Maisa in the quiet.
Anja glanced up at the tree once Bren had vanished into the light of the setting sun. The young crow was still peering at him. “Well then,” Anja said. “Would anyone here like to tell me how the ghost died? I think Dira would thank you.” Unthinking, Anja extended his hand towards the tree. To his shock, the small crow fluttered down and landed in the palm of his hand. Then everything went dark and Anja was elsewhere.
(Words 828, Total 828)
Execution Square
19th Bell
“He was lynched around a week ago, near as we could tell. Been making our life a livin’ torment ever since. No one can even come round here to enjoy the place. It's crazy, I tell you!”
On a good day, when Syna still shown her bright face on the world, the Execution Square was full of people. Berthers picnicked, cooked, camped, played and relaxed all in the shadow of a massive oak tree which dominated the center of the square. It's ancient, thick branches tangled through the air and all manner of creeping, chattering and feathery creatures made their homes in the branches. It was a warm and festive place, where the horrors of Sunberth seemed far away and long forgotten.
But on this day, the square was quiet. There was still the sound of chatter echoing from the old tree's branches, but the square itself was anxiously silent. No man, woman or child stirred in the area except to skirt around the square as if the grass of the square were poison.
Anja, of course, shared no such reservations. After some gentle coaxing, he had convinced his guide to enter the square and Anja now stood blinking in the shade of the great tree as Syna's light slowly faded and dusk approached. The tree carried an eerie light to it. Anja could not help but respect something that had endured for so long in a place as inhospitable as this city, but it was almost as if there was more to this oak then met the eye. Anja gently rested his hand against the bark of the trunk, and felt something old thrumming through his finger tips. The distant song of the dead, long forgotten in this place of happiness and life, hummed a dirge in the palm of Anja's hand.
Anja sighed softly and turned towards his companion. A spidery young man, lean, thin, and with veins popping through his pale, clammy skin twitched nervously in the shadow of a great tree. Bren, his name was. He reminded Anja of a skinny, anxious mouse.
“How did he die?” Anja asked. Anja could feel a dozen spirits calling out to him through the bark of the tree, begging to sing their story to him. But Anja was here for one soul in particular, and he needed more information.
“Ah, um well, y'see…” Bren mumbled nervously and glanced around him. “It was uh...sort of this thing…”
Anja waited patiently. A lower ranking member of the Sun's Berth, he had been called on to inform Anja of his latest job. The Eiyon was growing suspicious that he was not the slightest bit happy to be here.
“The ghost ah...he um, was an enemy to us so um...we had him taken care of, y'know?”
“So the Sun's Berth murdered him then?” Anja enquired patiently.
“No! Twasn't murder! Nothing like that!” The skinny man raised his hands up anxious, and glanced around frantically as if those words would bring baying hounds falling down on their heads. “He just fought back and we killed him! That was all!”
At Anja's shoulder, Maisa snorted skeptically. Anja signed an agreement at her before turning back to the man.
“He was hung from the tree, yes?”
A beat of silence met Anja's words. Following that beat, a single crow cawed above them, echoed by another until the air was filled with their mournful cries. Anja glanced upwards into the tree's depths. On one of the lower branches, an undersized, perhaps young, crow peered at him. The top of the creature's head was covered in pale white; a small bird skull covered it's features so that Anja could only make out its clever yellow eyes hiding behind it's mask. The beak of the crow parted, and it's voice joined into the cacophony of cries. After several chimes had passed, the birds fell silent. But the young crow's eyes remained on Anja.
Beside him, Bren shivered. “Godsdamned skull crows,” the berther muttered.
“What are they?” Anja asked.
“They're omens of death, that's what they are!” Anja's guide spat on the ground and growled. “You see them around you know someone is gonna die! Listen up, I can't stay here. This whole place is cursed so long as that ghost is here. Just get rid of it! We need this tree. The Sun's Berth will pay you well!” With that the man turned and vanished outside of the park, leaving Anja and Maisa in the quiet.
Anja glanced up at the tree once Bren had vanished into the light of the setting sun. The young crow was still peering at him. “Well then,” Anja said. “Would anyone here like to tell me how the ghost died? I think Dira would thank you.” Unthinking, Anja extended his hand towards the tree. To his shock, the small crow fluttered down and landed in the palm of his hand. Then everything went dark and Anja was elsewhere.
(Words 828, Total 828)
