The village around him burned...
Beor stood in the middle, his body locked and chest heaving as he tried to pull in a breath and couldn't. Hands helplessly clenched into fists, his wide open eyes bulged at the horror surrounding him.
Embers flew in a flurry and settled on the ground, where shadows shrouded around contorted, still forms and everyday objects, scattered where they were dropped as the surviving residents of the village fled in panic. There, an over-turned bucket with spilled water darkening the ground. In dark it looked very much like blood. Over there, a dropped toy chiseled out of wood by some elder villager's caring hands for his grandchild now slowly charred in the tongues of flame trying to spread across neat little village cobble-stone paths.
Distant screams retreated, settling around Beor into dead silence. A movement up ahead made him throw up his head. Green eyes first squinted, then widened and his already struggling heart stumbled once more into a frantic beat. His body trembling, the villager made a small step back, staring at the silently approaching figure.
Only a few feet away from him, the being stopped and slightly crooked his head as he surveyed the horrific scene, his face betraying only an idle interest. The gesture was familiar and disturbing. With cold terror rising in his numbed heart, Beor blinked at the being, whose eyes burned a cold white glow, casting an eerie pale light across the rest of his human face. So familiar, except for that sneer that twisted the being's lips with disdain. This was Grake's little foundling, grown up.
"... You see?" Scratchy, disembodied voice intruded into his vision. "And this is just a small glimpse into the Memory of one whom you so foolishly took into your home. His past. And most likely... your future."
Beor gulped, troubled emotions flaring so powerfully in his chest that his heart felt like it would burst. The vision let go, leaving the villager blinking, wide-eyed, into space ahead of him.
Slowly, his awareness of the world returned.
His limbs suddenly gave and shook under him. His eyes turning to a roughly hewn chair by Hero's bed, the villager staggered to it and sunk, lowering his head into trembling hands. The pot of stew that he was busy preparing needed to be stirred, bubbling, but Beor ignored it. He then lifted his head and held a disbelieving gaze on the small being still asleep in his new bed, which Beor built for him himself just a couple of weeks ago.
The small being stirred, making a discontent whimper as he sometimes did when troubled by nightmares. Until now, Beor had no idea what brought them on, but he would respond by coming and reassuring the child, who would then quickly calm and fall asleep once more. This time, the villager only continued to stare at him, his hands shakily clenching.
Those terrifying visions were what the child was seeing? His true memories?
Not receiving his usual comfort, the toddler fully woke up. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes with small clenched fists, and looked up to search around him for someone to comfort him, a big pout on his face. Sweat-slicked tuft of over-grown hair that needed to be cut again, stuck to his flushed cheeks. Child's white eyes found an unfamiliar blue-robed figure standing close to his bed and startled, opening wide. With a whimper, he jerked back to the wall, where he curled, drawing his blanket up to hide his face.
Beor inched forward automatically to go to him, but then leaned back, his fists clenching tighter and heart numb, and turned to his visitor. Troubled, green eyes searched her gray face with a pleading question.
"T-that... was h-him... in his d-dream?" He managed to squeeze out.
"It is. In his true form." His visitor confirmed in a creaky, unpleasant voice that scratched Beor's ears.
Beor swallowed, his hands clenching and unclenching as strong emotions ran through him. Fear, doubt, suspicion, worry took places in turn, robbing him of ability to think. The visitor's violet eyes watched him. Gray lips twitched in a slightly amused smirk, then moved again.
"He is a Monster, like you thought he might be. Only far, far worse." Strange satisfaction held in the visitor's tone. Troubled, Beor once again looked at the Grake's small foundling cuddled in the corner of his bed, the blanket pulled up to his face in a helpless, defensive gesture, and blinked. The villager's brows then came together in a frown.
"I... I did think that he m-might be a monster." He stammered. "But... That person you showed to me... He had so much p-power. He doesn't." He looked at uncle Grake's little foundling. "He has no power. Our monsters don't harm him like they would the other Humans, but... that's all. Are you sure that was him?"
"Oh, I'm sure." The Witch's harsh voice cut through Beor's doubt, her expression flat. She believed what she said, Beor could feel that. His heart fell a little.
"And you are wrong about him. So wrong! He does have power. So, so much of it... " The visitor's voice shifted to a greedy, jealous tone, then trailed off as she observed the toddler still hiding under his blanket. He tried to peek, found the stranger still there, and hid again.
An amused and wry expression settled on a gray, wrinkled face. "He just doesn't know how to reach out and take it. Not right now. Not in that form. For now, he is just a wee little thing with no memory of who he really is."
"W-what happened?... To make him this way?" Beor couldn't help asking, his curiosity waking despite the fear still coursing through his body. He quickly calmed, though. He was home and safe, at least for the moment. The terrifying vision swiftly receded from his memory like any nightmare would.
"I have no idea. There is too much magic around him to see details, especially further back. His recent past is easier to see... This is not the question you should be asking yourself, villager!" The Witch complained a little angrily, turning her violet irises at him. Taken aback, Beor blinked at her.
"The question you should be asking is - what is going to happen next! And I am here to tell you. You do not have much time! These nightmares that he started having - it is his magic trying to restore him to the way he used to be. And the first thing it will restore is his memories. Once that happens..." The witch shook her head regretfully, pursing her lips a bit.
"What will h-happen?" Beor's voice shook a little.
"Then he will become what he was before. That Monster you just saw." The visitor concluded with dark satisfaction. "Most likely, he will simply kill all of you, just for chancing to see him like this - helpless and small. Beings like that are extremely prideful and don't take to humiliation lightly."
Beor's heart jumped and sped once again. Once again he turned and stared at the toddle with numb, stricken expression.
"H-he will? B-but... We only tried to care for him."
"He won't care. From the looks of his actions in the past, he appears a particularly cruel kind of Monster. You villagers and your lives will be nothing more than bugs to be crushed under his feet."
Beor swallowed, thoughts scattering from his mind like grain through a sieve with a bad hole. The visitor watched him and impatiently grimaced.
"You can prevent this terrible thing from happening, villager."
Green eyes turned to the Witch with confusion. "Me?"
The Witch gravely nodded. "This is your chance. Right now he is still helpless and can be dealt with. That won't be the case once he recovers his memories and strength."
The villager nervously swallowed, one arm reaching to the cloth on his other sleeve and nervously crumpling it.
"You are reasonable, unlike your uncle. I saw it right away." The Witch's voice turned soothing. "Your uncle would not have listened to anything I had to say. You are different. You are smarter and stronger than most villagers. You can save your family and the rest of your foolish people."
The villager blinked. "Me? I'm not strong. You... If what you say is true, then you s-should tell about this to the elders. They..."
The Witch smirked. "Pfft! Those fools won't do anything of use! At best, they'll just order your uncle to cast him out. And you know your uncle. Do you really think he'll obey that?"
"Uncle... She would know... if he is Human or not. We should ask her."
"No! I forbid you!... She will only tell you lies...Do not trust her!" Beor's uncle warned, his lips coming together in a stubborn, tight line. Beor's brother gave him a silent, expressive look, his eyes big and unhappy. His earlier private words repeated in Beor's ears.
"What does it matter if he is Human or not? He doesn't hurt anyone. Even those monsters stopped coming."
Neither one of them would listen to him now, even if they saw what the Witch just showed him. Beor's shoulders slumped.
"No... My uncle... He would rather leave the village than abandon him somewhere. He cares about him too much." He looked helplessly at Grake's little foundling. The Witch nodded with satisfaction.
"Then only you can do something about it. Its not even that hard. You'll just have to give him to me. Then I'll do what must be done. I'll keep him from hurting you."
"You'll make it so he respawns s-somewhere else?" The villager looked up, his green eyes filled with unease. Guilt tried to work its way up as a memory emerged, but Beor stubbornly pressed it away.
The Witch smiled in a very unpleasant way, which made shivers run up Beor's back. "Even better. I'll make it so he disappears entirely and doesn't respawn. Here or anywhere else ever again."
Beor's breath caught and he blinked as the meaning of the words sunk in. Ignoring him, the Witch held her violet eyes on the hiding toddler, her expression turning almost hungry in its anticipation. "Don't worry. You won't have to see it. I'll take care of everything."
"... Doesn't... respawn... ?" The villager's very small voice drew the Witch's eyes back to him and found him watching her with the same horror with which he looked at the little monster just a moment ago.
"No!"
On an impulse, Beor jumped up from his chair and stepped to Hero's crib. He scooped up Grake's whimpering foundling into his arms along with the blanket he clutched. Hushing and gently rocking, he held the toddler and the child traded the safety of his blanket for the security of the villager's arms, tucking his face against Beor's chest.
Feeling the toddler's heart beating fast under his arm, Beor glared at his visitor.
"To take someone's life completely, so they cannot respawn, is... is evil! Its even more evil than... than what he did in that vision you showed me!"
The witch blinked with surprise. "You must be joking." Her smile returned, disbelieving. "You would protect that Monster? After what I just told you?"
"Maybe... Maybe it won't be so bad. He isn't evil now. Maybe... if we teach him to do the right things, h-he..."
"What nonsense! Beings like him do not change! That I can promise you on my hope of rebirth!"
Beor blinked, his heart falling once more, but continued to rock the child. The Witch scowled, shaking her head.
"You poor, stupid villager! You really don't understand the forces that you're dealing with here, do you? Do you really think that when he remembers who he is, he will still care about your stupid rules? You'll be nothing to him!"
Beor's hands shook, the weight of the child in his hands growing heavier. He very much wished that he didn't have to carry this burden.
"Even... even if he does... become a Monster... And does what you say... He cannot kill us forever. As long as we do what's right, we will respawn... We will be together again... Safe... Somewhere else." He looked helplessly at the child he held.
"Pfft!" The witch made a derisive smirk. The villager's expression steadied, though, and his voice grew stronger as he fell back on the traditional beliefs he's been taught all his life. He questioned those teachings before, but now clung to them. It was the only safety he could find.
"I will do the right thing." He insisted with a frown. "Killing is wrong. Villagers do not kill."
The visitor's smile fell flat, disbelief lingering in the her expression for a moment, then morphed back to a long-suffering smile. She shook her head slightly, making a quiet humph in a typical villager fashion.
"I've lived for a very long time. And I still don't understand you, Villagers. You think its wrong to fight back and won't lift a finger to defend yourselves even when Humans come and burn your villages to the ground. Yet... You also believe that it's fine to allow your children to starve to death if they appear looking different from everyone else. How do you think the first of the Pale-Faced appeared? You think that by taking them to the woods and leaving them there out of sight makes their deaths any better? What you are doing is the same as killing, even if you don't lift a finger!"
"We don't kill... " The villager blinked. "We only give them back to the World and it takes them away. It takes away what it gave us by mistake. And takes it to where it is supposed to be..." Beor insisted. The Witch only made a snort.
"Ha! The World does not care about you, stupid villager. It does not feel or think. It's just like a plant that grows and grows."
"The other Pale faced usually find and adopt them! They always have someone going around and checking!" Beor insisted.
"Sometimes. But what do you think happens to those, whom no one finds?"
The villager grimaced, troubled, since so far he successfully managed to avoid thinking about such things. It was easy, since even though he knew of such a rule concerning the Pale Faced, he himself never seen it done, only heard of it spoken among the elder villagers, some of whom remembered such incidents from their past lives. It certainly never happened here, yet. And he himself didn't remember anything from before.
"But all of this is besides the point!" The Witch's harsh voice startled the villager from his thoughts. "THAT creature you hold is far, far worse than any Pale Faced." The Witch stretched her finger to the child Beor held in his hands and he unwillingly flinched, drawing the child a bit further from himself.
"You wanted to ask me what he is? I told you. That is not a Human. But keep him if you wish. I don't care. This body is already old and worn out. I'll be gone from your world by the time he wakes up. There are other worlds and plenty of other villagers whose bodies will serve me well for a time."
The Witch shrugged indifferently. Beor felt sorry for whichever poor Villager, whose body this creature would take next. Even though it looked like a villager, the one looking out from within was nothing close to a villager. A being of lightning and flame, who used the bodies of others to live, changing them to suit its needs. Impossible to kill, only banish, by destroying their current form – a feat worthy of Humans, not villagers. And there were no Humans here.
"Fine. Believe whatever you wish. You DO want this monster gone, though? Am I right? Its just the no-respawn part that bothers you."
"Yes. Everyone deserves a chance to live. Even a Monster." Beor looked up, glad to be distracted from his doubts.
"So, if he respawned somewhere else, then that would be fine with you. Right?"
This time, the villager's face darkened and his eyes dropped. He didn't answer. The Witch impatiently glared at him.
"Now what is the problem?" She demanded impatiently.
"It would be all right if he respawned somewhere else..." Beor hesitantly admitted. "Only... He is not like the other monsters. He feels pain when he gets hurt. Respawning would hurt him... And he would be scared to live all alone in the woods. He is scared of the dark."
"Stupid villager! He is simply not used to it. If he grew up in the woods with the other monsters, he wouldn't be bothered by such things. He would be strong, like them. His memory probably would have already returned, too. Living with you is making him dumb and weak!" She grumbled, then made a cough. "Of course, its all the better for us that he is weak. It gives us a chance... I don't understand why you are so concerned about what happens to him! He is just a Monster."
Beor didn't answer back, his guilt growing stronger.
"And that's not what you thought before, when you tried to get rid of him." The Witch pointed out.
Green eyes flew up, startled. "W-what?" The villager blinked. The Witch's violet-tinged irises narrowed.
"Don't pretend that you do not know. You know very well what I'm talking about. Or do you think that I cannot see that one of his Death Marks bears your aura?"
Beor blinked in confusion. "I don't know w-what you're talking about."
The Witch considered him a moment, then her expression relaxed.
"Hmm. Perhaps you don't. Then I will tell you. Look at him. Look at his neck."
Her lips unpleasantly twitched and her strange irises once again turned to dwell on the child Beor held protectively in his arms. Little Hero pushed his face against his caretaker's chest, the grip of his little fingers on the villager's shirt grasping tighter.
"Do you see that bruise?" The Witch pointed her gnarled finger to the large, purple bruise blooming across the back of the toddler's neck, almost hidden by the edge of his soft, cyan shirt. Beor looked and nodded, frowning.
"What of it? It's just a bruise. He got it after... after he got lost one time." The villager's voice skipped briefly. The Witch's lips twitched. Beor unwillingly shifted in discomfort beneath that knowing, mocking gaze.
"Yes. Yet, his injuries usually heal quick and even scars fade away, do they not? But not this... Because this, Villager, is something that my kind calls a Death Mark. We get them and so do many of the other kinds of creatures that have magic. And monsters. This usually happens after a violent death. When we respawn, we often bear such a mark and it takes years to fade. Or at least until next such respawn, hmm... And I think you do know what caused this."
The villager shifted again, still trying to deny the memory that tried very hard to surface at these words, but then gave up. His shoulders slumping a little, Beor sighed. The Witch smiled in triumph.
"I... I didn't know that... I thought nothing happened that time." Beor looked at the child and the guilt in his eyes grew heavier. "He... died? That time that I left him in that cave? What happened?"
"Well, I don't know exactly how he died, but yes. He died. I think it was from a bad fall. You said it was a cave?"
Beor nodded, dropping his gaze.
"I see... water?" The witch squinted her eyes in the child's direction, her gaze growing distant once more. "Glistening in the dark... And I see you, lowering him there in a little wooden boat. He was asleep. And you turned around and left, hoping that he would respawn somewhere far away and not return to you again. Then, you didn't seem to care very much how he would fare once he found himself in the woods all alone." The Witch's voice turned mocking.
The villager's body locked stiff, his hands unwillingly tightening. He stopped rocking Hero and just stood there, his lips downturned and gaze glued to the ground.
"I... I was afraid. And angry that day." Beor admitted in a quiet tone and gave the toddler in his hands a lost look. "But I changed my mind! I went back! He was already gone. I thought that... the Ender took him! And he brought him back the same day. He seemed all right, except for that bruise. But it didn't even hurt him, so I thought..."
The villager's defensive tone broke off as the memory that he carefully kept sealed out of his mind flooded back in, shedding off his attempt to pretend that what he did never happened and bringing forth stark details.
Several months ago, that's when it happened.
It was before the monsters finally stopped coming and everything had become well, or so Beor thought.
After the monsters learned of Hero's existence, they had become a real scary problem.
Often, the brothers would find them lurking by their house and in the fields nearby. Their voices called to each other at night, making it impossible for either Beor or Rangil to get any normal sleep. They would often lay there and listen, their hearts filling with fear, expecting that the monsters would cease waiting around and simply force their way into their house to get to their uncle's foundling.
That day, before Beor made his decision to take Hero away, his brother went out to take care of his usual chores. He returned, his face utterly pale. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. And then he looked Beor in his eyes and told him that he just nearly stepped on a creeper. It blew up. It damaged the barn, his brother apologized in a weak voice and then asked Beor if he could stay home for the rest of the day. Too stunned, Beor simply nodded and then watched his shaken brother leave to his room. Rangil didn't dare to step a foot outside and it was Beor who had gone out to do the usual chores.
He found part of the barn destroyed and glimpsed more creepers nearby, who vanished in the grass at his approach.
That creeper must have tarried, waiting for Hero to come outside to play with it. But Beor and Rangil had been trying to keep the child in for fear that he might get lost again as happened several times before. Last time he appeared with blood on his clothes and his clothes were torn. And even though after they checked him and found no visible injuries, their uncle went off on them, complaining that they were not watching over him well enough. Beor tried to tell him that they were simply too scared to approach Hero, when monsters surrounded him, because monsters acted very different around their uncle than they did toward them. Their uncle refused to believe it.
Those creatures were simply trying to protect Hero! But they were dumb, so Rangil and Beor needed to keep Hero away from them! They shouldn't be scared of them, since they wouldn't actually attack so long as Hero was nearby and so long as they didn't wish him harm.
Well, now one of them attacked Beor's brother and nearly sent him into a respawn! He almost lost his brother! And it was all because of their uncle's fondness for this creature who simply couldn't be a Human!
Beor fumed as he repaired the barn. And that's when those dark, ugly thoughts appeared in his mind - the idea that since his uncle wouldn't listen and he couldn't go to the elders with this, then the next best thing for everyone would be if Grake's foundling simply... disappeared.
It wouldn't be wrong, Beor told himself, even as he stomped off to the nearby woods in search of a place where he could leave Hero, where that strange monster from the End couldn't find him. When Beor stumbled upon a cave, the ground nearly caving directly under his feet, and heard the splash of water far below, he knew it would be perfect.
Hero was a monster, so he would respawn, he told himself, cautiously peering over the edge into the small cave.
Hero was definitely a monster. So he should be living with other monsters, not in a village, where he kept drawing other dangerous monsters to them. Already, the other villagers began to notice the unusual interest of monsters to their village.
Sooner or later, the other villagers would learn that it was Hero, drawing them here, and then...
Then Beor, Rangil, and their children would get exiled along with their uncle and his foundling for keeping this terrible secret.
He couldn't let that happen.
His uncle's foundling would disappear, going back where he belonged. And his uncle would be sad, but he would feel better soon, once he remembered that he still had his family and two wonderful little villagers whom he also adored. Watching Margol and Tnul grow up would comfort him. And Beor and Rangil would stay and take care of him.
And Hero... He would be scared at first, simply because he was not used to living on his own. But he would be all right, after he got used to it. He would forget them and be all right, living with the other monsters where he belonged. He was like them. He cried when he fell and got a scrape on his knee, but his scratches would be gone in minutes. And he would be off, running and playing again, his tears forgotten. So even if he got hurt for a little bit when he respawned, he would be fine.
That's what Beor told himself to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.
"Don't worry. You did the right thing." The Witch approved, smiling a little. Startled, the villager looked up and then his eyes darkened. He sighed.
"I thought... I thought that if I took him away, he would respawn somewhere far away in the woods and then not come back. Those monsters kept coming and... so I took him to a cave and left him there while he was asleep."
"Hmmph. And those monsters let you do this? What did you do? Give him a sleeping potion?" Curious violet eyes held on Beor and he nodded before he could catch himself, then lowered his head in shame. The Witch continued to smile in approval.
"No, you had the right idea." The Witch reassured, ignoring the villager's guilty expression. "And maybe if you did it just a year ago, it would have still worked. He would not have known how to get back, then."
The Witch looked at the child with curiosity and jealous admiration mixed. "Now? He is already too smart. He can clearly remember this place, where he receives comfort. So, of course he wants to return. And those other, lesser monsters will seek to do what he wants. So they will keep bringing him back. That's why your idea did not work. Its too late to get rid of him this way."
Beor said nothing. In his arms, Hero dared to peek out. From the safety of the villager's arms, white eyes considered the strange, gray skinned visitor in her blue robe. Her lips stretched in what was probably intended a well-meaning smile, but the toddler gasped and buried his face against Beor's chest again. Beor automatically patted his back.
So. This is what the Witch saw when she looked at him in the Market. She saw his guilt, even though he tried to hide it and pretend that he never did that horrible thing.
He managed to convince himself before that everything was fine, because he changed his mind and ran back. Hero seemed fine, laughing and playing as usual.
But he actually died because of what Beor did?
Beor remembered running back and desperately leaning to the edge of the cave where he lowered the tiny boat. Not seeing it, he tied a rope to the nearest root of a tree and climbed down and searched around the cave. He found the basket at the edge of the small, underground lake, empty. Then, he spent several hours searching the cave, calling Hero's name, with no answer.
He returned home, defeated, and lied to his uncle that Hero had wandered off again. His uncle grumbled, but waited, hoping that the strange Enderman that kept showing up nearby and seemingly kept an eye on the child, would soon bring him back. He didn't. Both he and his uncle then went looking for Hero, even going to the Tree where Beor's uncle said he found Hero.
Still, hours passed before Hero finally appeared on their doorstep as usual, with only that large, purple bruise on the back of his neck. It didn't go away, but also didn't hurt him, so Beor dismissed it, just glad to have the little monster back. Seeing the grief in his uncle's eyes as he hopelessly looked to the forest, waiting for his foundling to return, filled Beor's heart with so much pain that he swore that he would never harm his uncle's foundling again, even if he was a monster.
And then to everyone's relief, Hero's monsters stopped coming to the village entirely.
Still, Hero died? And it wasn't only once. The Witch had said that it was only one of his markings. What were the others? Beor thought he knew. They were not watching over the child as well as they should have because of their fear. Their uncle was right.
"Why do you think those monsters stopped coming to bother you?" The Witch asked as if guessing Beor's thoughts. He glanced up at her.
"Its probably because he wished for them to stop coming!" She pointed out, seeing that he paid attention. "When he was his other, previous self, he had the power to command many monsters. He could tell them to go and die and they would go and die, attacking those he wanted them to attack."
Beor paled slightly, the vision of the burning village once again vivid before his eyes and the terrified, retreating screams of its inhabitants echoing in his ears.
"Now he is still quite dumb so he doesn't know how to do that. Not by intent. His power sleeps, beyond his reach. But when he gets scared or upset, it will respond to him. Any monsters nearby will respond to his call for aid. Its in their nature to try to appease those strongest among them, especially Enders or creepers. So of course, they will come and try to do what they will feel he wants. Think about what that means, villager. Think what might happen if he gets angry at you. Teaching children rules requires punishing them. How will you punish him? Even in this state, without his memory, this power is what makes him so very dangerous. And it will only grow stronger as he gets older. Imagine what he will be able to do when he realizes that he CAN control monsters?"
Beor continued to rock the child silently.
"I... I don't know what to do..." He admitted quietly, utterly overwhelmed. The Witch huffed in frustration.
"Good. At least you have the good sense to realize when you are in over your head. Its more than I can say about the rest of your foolish people." The Witch smiled. Beor frowned, but didn't protest the disparaging comment. "You are quite smart, for a villager. You don't really fit in well with them. I think you would have done much better among the Pale Faced."
This time Beor threw up his head and glared at the Witch, offended. Him, likened to those murderers and oath-breakers?
"I am nothing like them!" He said in anger, which quickly drained away, leaving behind only guilt as he looked at the child trustingly clinging to him.
"I do think that he doesn't belong here... with us..." Beor said quietly. "But I don't want him to get hurt. Maybe one day he will become this Monster that you speak of. But he is not that Monster now. And I don't want him to die so he doesn't respawn. No creature deserves that."
The Witch good-naturedly humphed.
"Hmmph. Your compassion will be your downfall, villager. I don't think he will show the same mercy to you. Especially when he learns what you did... And he will, since that's part of his magic."
Beor's eyes flicked up to the Witch, startled. He had not thought of that.
"Tssk... Beings like him are not very forgiving. You think your soul is safe? True. Even in his full strength, this Monster could not harm a soul. Not directly. But what he could do was call a soul back from the edge of death, forcing it to respawn where he wished it to respawn. What do you think he will do when he learns that you tried to kill him when he was helpless and weak? He will probably torture you for it. Bring you back from the brink of death again and again. He won't spare your children, either. You are going to watch them suffer and regret that when you had the chance, you listened to your dumb heart rather than your good sense."
"Y-you're lying." Beor stammered, his eyes wide and breaths quick as new horror rose in his heart at the images brought forth by the Witch's ominous words. He could see himself, bloody and pleading in despair for his children to be spared. Margol and Tnul cried, cowering in fear as the grown-up Monster from his vision considered them all in silence with cold, pitiless eyes.
"Oh, no. I am not lying." The Witch's lips twitched, forming a crooked smile. "We, Witches, do not lie. We may over-stretch truth a little, but we never lie. You, villagers, have your rules, and we have ours. I have seen him do this. Its one of his last memories so its very clear. It was a Human. He must have hated that fellow very much to expend so much effort and strength just to see him suffer a bit longer..." The Witch shook her head with something akin to admiration.
"Consider that. Are you really willing to risk all that just for your foolish belief that all creatures deserve to exist? Surely, you see that there can be exceptions. No?"
Squeezing his eyes shut, Beor still stubbornly shook his head in denial. The Witch's amused chuckle broke through his vivid imagination.
"... Fine. Then I have another solution for you, brave little villager. One that doesn't involve anyone dying at all."