Chapter 53. Won’t be Fooled into Playing.

  Quick and vivid pulsing images of a dimly lit circling. The circling of a tainted cult gathered. Surrounding the rotting remains of a massive grizzly bear. The animal had been strung uup between two large trees. Nearly two men tall. Patchy bits of fur covered the expired flesh. Skin wriggle while maggots crawl underneath.

  Emerging from the surrounding was one. One who was covered in a droopy forest green cloak. Fists clenching the fading flames of yellow and green. Heat and light seeped from the cracks of closed hands. The horrific color lathered those fists flaring up to the wrists.

  Two dressed in the same dark baggy cloak and saggy hood drawn, stepped from the circling. Reaching for the bear, the two rip and pry. Opening the chest cavity with deep wet cracks. Pieces of bone snapped while flies and beetles buzzed irritably. Pestering those who tamper with the carcass.

  Another moist pop and guteral tear caused maggots worms and centipedes to drain from the internal caging. Sid could only watch while his visions led him. Stepping up and into the remains.

  Looking out from the inside of that hollowed carcass, hand all pressed together. All conducting a prayer filled with bane and hate. It was a dark and shallow chanting. Shouting the nosense louder and louder. Never noticing the salt pattern before—he did now, it was now starting to flicker to life—it was the same symbol from the previous vision.

  The fiery glow became enraged. It swirled and twisted around the him. Standing inside the rotting carcass of a bear. The salt pattern in the dirt began to pulse the same green from the cave of skulls.

  There was a scream somewhere. A scream of terror—it was him, or whoever’s vision he was sharing right now. The flesh of the bear, it start to seal over. His shouts came to a gurgling hush while his body attempt to morph. Blend. Take. Muffled screams could be heard within the patchy fur.

  The vile grizzly broke from the ropes. Claws digging into its own guts. Ripping. Tearing. Freeing. He was trying to escape. That nasty skin would only rapidly grow. Hiding him within again, and again, and again.

  The salt pattern strobe from yellow to green. It was sickening. Yet entrancing all the same. The follower’s chanting was thunderous. Over and over the bear tore for its stomach. Trying to release whoever was inside. Standing tall, the beast threw its head back. Releasing a distressed wet noise and fell hard onto its back.

  A blink brought Sid back into the marvelous shop of beautiful threading, and magnificent colors. Focusing he seen Scarlett. She was standing eye level with him, his hands still wrapped around his head, while he sat on his knees.

  “I don’t know what you are up too Scarlett, but I am not the one you are looking for. I don’t know how you’re doing what this is, but I will not be playing for the Seven.” Sid mumbled through the dizzy spell he was suffering.

  She smiled. “Did your son have the talent as well?”

  How did she know he had a son—how could he forget? Why could he not remember him? How dare she call it a talent.

  “How did you know I had a son.”

  “I noticed the bag around your sword, that’s elven stitching, it’s a ceremonial bag.”

  “I know what it is. But I don’t know what the talent you are speaking of is.”

  How very curious this man really was.

  “Sidney, do you not understand what is going on?” She asked looking into that lost eye.

  A single eye dart through the room—no that’s no true anymore. That ugly yellow gem in the eyepatch now mimicked eye movements. Even bringing him new texture to his sights—sight—whatever. He looked at the archaic woman. Mustache telling a brave lie.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, so you understand then. You understand you are a dying breed. You understand the reasoning why your race is being eradicated from the lands. You understand why you hide. You understand the magnitude of the threat spreading across the lands and why you're here?” Fierce scrunched face, radish red snapped at the heavy doubtful man.

  What the hell was this lady talking about, shifters hide for the simple fact that humans consider them beasts. Beasts envy the gift of walking with man. How high of a threat could blood cults be. There has always been blood cults as long as Sid could remember. Things that date back far enough with the tales of good and evil, it will just always be around.

  “Yes, I understand.” Sid lied boldly. He didn’t care he wouldn’t be playing this game. He hid for this long he can hide for longer.

  Scarlett eyed Sid with a detective glance. You don't grow to be Scarlett’s age without being able to tell if one was telling tales or not.

  “Well then let me see if I got it right then.” She said cunningly, she was going to preach this if Sid wanted to hear it or not.

  “Xulu is destroying every shape-shifting walker throughout the lands. The man only needs a small fraction of the gifted races. It’s been a horrible series of genocides. Every couple rotation of the seasons he accumulates more pieces of the shifting races he wishes to destroy. Stealing innocent wanderers for blood conducting the powerful ritual. Sidney, that kind of ritual has the power to send destructive waves. A force that caused the race to fall instantly. Heart combustion. I’ve seen it, Sidney. The chest explodes while the heart burns with a wet black flame.” Scarlett looked at Sid with a grief expression, as he took in all this new information.

  “Understand?” Scarlett question Sid as he lifted himself with ease.

  Sid thought for a moment, over thinking the new information that had been spilled—true he hated this Xulu but could Xulu truly have wiped out entire races with a single ritual, this couldn't be possible nobody could posses such a power—that kind of power was if anything godly. There had to of been other shifters still, he seen the vampires before he arrived at the castle. Clearly there should be others still hiding. Others who were obviously hiding better then Scarlett could see—better than himself.

  “He took your eye Sid, your race is next, why do you think it is that you don't see mermaids, werewolves, werebears, sirens or any other shifters.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “I killed eight—” Sid thought for a moment, no it was only seven vampires.

  “eight what?” She questioned. This answer was crucial to his role in the game.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I don’t believe what you are telling me Scarlett. I won’t be fooled into playing. I won’t be adventuring for this man.” That mustache argued the woman's words.

  I’m sure I’ve said it before, but Sid had some bright stars in Stubborn and Hardheaded.

  Scarlett glared unenthused, shaking her head. “Take my threading’s off. Get out if your not going to make an effort. You clearly aren’t the one.” She sighed hitching a thumb for the door.

  Sid snorted and began to remove the scaly tentacle hood. Pushing a bootf with his heel and toes.

  “Really Sidney?” Scarlett was baffled—god’s this man was tenacious. She thought he would have broken under that bluff.

  “I'm a blacksmith, not an adventurer, this is not my path.” Mustache had never been so firm on an answer.

  “You're just able to turn your back on multiple races who need your help, walk away from the countless bodies that will fall—"

  Sid placed the boots on the table with a wet filling eye. This was not his adventure—so why did he feel so guilty. Sure, he liked that feeling from the woods—the uplifting atonement one—but he was not going to pursue the risk of dying for the accomplishment.

  “—How can you not give aid for the mother who won't wake for her crying children, or let a father continue to provide for his family rather then perishing alone in the forest—"

  Sid folded his coat placing it next to the boots, before he smeared a moist cheek.

  “Sidney?”

  “Stop calling me that!” He screamed. “My name is Sid. Just Sid. I’m not an adventurer. I don’t play for the gods. I am only a blacksmith.”

  Scarlett calmly watched. Waiting for the leaky man to look at her. Deep wet breaths rushed through slick nostrils. The single side of his face was moist with warm tears, he felt hollow, he had nothing and no one. Why would he care—no, why should he care about the race or anyone else. Nobody knows him. He doesn't owe anybody anything.

  “Sid, I know you know you need to do this.”

  Sid’s heart was acting wild. Salty tears raced down half a face, before dropping to his chest, from a plump whiskered cheek.

  “Sid, what would your family want you to do?”

  “I have no family. I have nothing.” Sid interjected with a soft tone.

  “Get dressed Sid. I know you seen the visions, and that’s a grand sign. The forests, the rivers, lakes and mountain critters, they call for your assistance Sid. Answer it.” Scarlett grabbed the Striders, holding them out for the large man.

  Shaking Sid refused to take the boots, this is not at all what he was expecting. He was scared. Everything was becoming too big even for him. Especially these new senses—these new, overwhelming, damn senses. Ones of such he had no idea how to control—let alone how to even adjust with. Sid wanted to run from the room, he wanted to leave the castle so badly. More than anything he wished Sophie was still around. He wished he had somebody to hold still. He missed the feeling of safety. He had forgotten what that bonding sense of warm loving comfort felt like. He wished he could have just held Sophie one last time. He cried at the sight of the pouch tied to the sword—wishing he could remember who was there. His breath stuttered as he choked on his own tears. The last three days have been the worst three days of Sid’s long and rotten life.

  “Sid?” Scarlett said easily.

  “It’s okay to be sad. You have every reason to be upset, and its perfectly normal to be scared, this is a lot I know. You can even be angry if you want because this game isn't fair. But please, don’t let those sorrowing emotions consume you. Don’t let the bitters of the Seven affect your attitude in life. Instead, be thankful for those painful stinging memories. It shows your true compassion Sid. It tells others how much you really care, don't hide from that, use it. I know you've had a long and hard life Sid, I know you've lost so much—" Scarlett grabbed Sid’s large, short a finger hand, and held it tightly between hers. “—Sid I know you've made your mistakes. that’s okay, it’s in everyone's path to make a few. Sophie wasn't able control herself when she left, her thoughts had been warped and not her own, it had nothing to do with you, or with Clayton—" She let Sid take a heavy couple breaths, as she comforted his arm.

  “Clayton.” The mustache sputter, breaking the name apart—his boys name was Clayton. Even with a name he had no face. No memory.

  “Clayton is proud of his father, you are a remarkable man in your sons eyes, and he admired everything you did.”

  “I—I can’t remember him.” He choked. Wiping an eye. The air rushing from his nose was slick and drippy.

  “The ashes in the pouch say you taught him well. He was a strong boy Sid. You raised him right. Kind and thoughtful. He was the type of boy who would put other before himself.” Scarlett comforted the grieving man. Well knowing he was broken. Not just of memory but something deeper.

  “He would have been a great adventurer huh?” Sid cried with a heavy breath—he would never venture the world, but maybe its what his son would have done—maybe, Sid had no idea. Maybe he would have been a fisherman or a hunter. Maybe a blacksmith like himself. Either way he would have been proud.

  “An absolute marvel of a hero.” Scarlett added. “Sid?” Her voice was soft and her reach was gentle.

  Breaking that empty stare, he looked at the striders she held for him.

  Fenrir’s anxiety was too much for his own good and he could sense Sid’s discomfort. The good boy walked in and sat at the hefty mans side. Radiating those soothing calm vibrations.

  “Fenrir is a clever boy.” Scarlett said, brushing the pups’ ears back, before wrapping the silky white scarf gently around the hairy black neck. White silky threads bright and soft, slowly became transparent and wispy.

  “He’s not a dog you know.”

  Scarlett smiled at the remark. “I know.” She nodded and stroked the ears back once more. “The forest will guide you Sid, let nature assist you in your journey.”

  “I'm just a blacksmith.” Sid choked again.

  “That’s fine Sid you can be a blacksmith. It doesn't change the facts though. You are a shifter; a shifter created from pioneers. You are the last in your race Sid. You just cannot be next in line for execution. Sid I'm sorry but you have been selected by the Seven to exterminate this cancer spreading within the mountains.”

  Sid was at a loss for words, why did he have to travel to the castle, none of this would have ever been cast out as his responsibility. He should have just stayed at his crumbling home. Rebuilt. And mourned until his memory was completely gone—speaking of memory he was getting a bit of something.

  His boy Clayton—he wanted to be a swordsman. Not a hunter. Not a fisher. Not a blacksmith. A swordsman. He remembered that—odd.

  “Is there no other? I've aged greatly.” Sid asked desperately.

  “I am only a messenger of visions Sid, I can not foretell the coming days I only transcribe what the gods are trying to tell me.”

  “Scarlett look at me I'm counting into my sixty-fourth cycling of seasons, honestly what can I possibly do.”

  That’s it. She was starting to get under. Now she just need to pry.

  “Sid I know you don't feel time warped. You breathe like the timbers. Built like the mountains. Strong like the rivers. Quick like the winds.”

  Well some of that may be true. Sid did feel remarkable for his old age. Even more so no after Scarlett slapped the hell out of him.

  “Who are you? True you?”

  “My name is Scarlet, I’m a Dreamcatcher Sid. And like you I do not choose to have the visions bestowed upon my slumbers—" Scarlett said placing the Striders in Sid’s hand. “—I do not enjoy most of the talents I am gifted, but I do accept them, I am only a frail old seamstress, a mender of leathers and wools, I didn't ask for any of this either Sid—"

  Fitting back into the Striders. He listened to her.

  “—but when the dreams come to me. I do not hide. I do not forget who I am. I try to listen. I attempt to decipher what the Seven want.” She grabbed the enchanted trench coat, of scales, placing it beside him. "I know its not fair Sid, I also know that there is a good man inside you—" Scarlet poked at Sid’s chest tapping his chakra four times. “I know, deep down, somewhere under your thick hide, you want to help. You want the tainted minds of the warped sorcerer Xulu to be put to an end—"

  Scarlett stared at Sid, as he fit into the boots, the eyepatch scanned the room.

  “Sid you might be the only one who can help.”

  Sid looked at Scarlett with a hopeless eye, while he pulled the coat over his shoulders.

  “What else?” Sid questioned while pulled the wiggling scales over his head. Scarlett looked confused, she had nothing more.