The endless void of my head brightens. I sense- with the weight of lead and pulsing fatigue- each of my limbs so I know I'm not dead. I become aware of a dull, yet expansive pain in my spine from my haphazard laying position and one to match in my head. The rich aroma of dark earth and sweet clover that my nose is buried into does comfort my heart meaning I am close to home, but the forest is silent still.

I do hear a soft groaning akin to when tree boughs bend and finally break, then it stops only for it to resume again. Following the direction in my head, I also pick up footfalls crunching the dry leaves between each moment of moaning trees.

"You can stop pretending."

Hearing that bass voice crackle within my head, the very one that has haunted me for years, startles me. With hesitancy, I slowly sit up being mindful of my body aches while my eyes greedily search for the speaker.

There he stands, one massive hand resting on a dead tree, though it seems that the severe cracks in the wood is mending and the gnarled branches plumpen with life. That's when I notice we're still in the cemetary but much of the wood surrounding the clearing is decayed. Even the clover has withered until it stops at an abrupt line five plots deep into the back area of the cemetery. Amidst this rottenness are insects and small creatures, furry and scaled, that couldn't escape that fog either.

That fog... That fog!

Where I lay is a stone's throw from the edge of the decay, but I know for certain that I was feet from the stone wall right where the now deeply decomposed buck lays. Admittedly, that dark cloud rolled in very quickly. If I couldn't run fast enough, I could have died. Even if I could out run it, what if I tripped?

"I spared you," the being says as he moves on to another tree.

I risk another glance at the entity. Stockade and nearby Hubs refer to him as forest spirit who only appears if the woods are taken advantage of. When he does come, children often disappear and their closest families killed. Some are even found half-crazed and only an inch from death. This is, without a doubt, the being I saw nearly a decade ago. It can't be an illusion- despite this splitting headache.

Shifting my weight to stand and without sparing a look anywhere else, I take a step back. I have a thought of running to my door, but he was able to tear the roof off so I can't expect to be safe there. I could use my teachings, though I am unsure as to how they might effect this entity. If those don't work, once again I am left with running away, forever if I have to.

Just as the thought passes my mind, the humanoid being turns his head to me. He has no eyes, only depressions where sockets must be, but I know he's peering directly at me. I vaguely remember seeing a fanged maw, but there doesn't seem to be any obvious mouth either. His head is as if someone molded flesh upon a half-decomposed skull as there still seems to be a nose-like bump and brow muscles that crease and relax. Like the stories say, he is clothed in shadows though it seems no different than simple breeches and a tunic. The only color, like the holly berry, is a red sash tied around his waist.

"Please don't run," he says.

As simple as that, I think to myself. Don't run from the inhuman being standing before me. One that's talking to me IN my head. The head that's pounding in pain with every pulse of my heart.

"If you run, I won't have a chance to warn you."

Warn me? About what? Have we made our cemetary addition too large too quickly? Stars, we can't afford any family to lose their children all because we needed more burial plots.

"This isn't about your people's minor foresting efforts. In fact, I commend you for the respect taken for every tree felled."

I know I didn't say anything aloud. The fact that he answered my questions at all has me take another step back. He's in my pressurized head. Has he always been there? All the things I discounted as anxious imagination... could they have been real this entire time?

"Some of it is your own doing."

And the rest, I want to ask. But try as I might, my throat remains tight as it can't swallow down the knot keeping my voice from me.

The creature steps past the wall, rather steps over it like an adult breeching a toy barrier. His footsteps are like ours; heel to toe, heel to toe, but his frame doesn't bob as he steps. If I couldn't see his legs, I'd assume him to be gliding along.

He stops just shy of the dead buck, hands at his side. "I have been a protector of my territory for a couple millennia now. That's plenty of time for an outlier of your kind to make a deal or two with me. Your prior elder, for example. As a result, I often frequent your little village. You have a keen eye, catching me during most of my visits."

I should take his compliment with as much grace as I do for Elder Damien's, but I've believed myself to be losing my head for years because I could see something no one else could catch as quickly. If anything, I'm displeased at his choice of words so why would I be polite? Other than the sobering thought that he could kill me.

I swallow, hard, lowering my head in a bow. "Th-thank you."

"Save your shallow sentiments. They are unnecessary." Said with a careless wave, no less.

'Shallow'? The cur.

"First and foremost, my warning: the leak is oozing the fog at a more frequent rate. If nothing is done, it could eventually reach your home. While I cannot travel within the Seed, I finally have had correspondence from the kingdom inside. It turns out that their fountain of life has been corrupted and it's lashing out. They are doing what they can to find and stop it before the Seed perishes, but it is eating up your mortal realm in the meantime and I cannot stand for it."

He turns to the partially living tree line. "Tonight was the worst wave and I fear that it'll get stronger and reach farther. I can heal only so much before even I am exhausted. You Grimkeeps have been searching for a way to lessen the effects since the fog's first appearance nine years ago, so any news to be passed along would be appreciated."

My mind spins at this influx of information, making the head pain worsen to the point of nausea.

What is a Seed and what kind of kingdom is living in it? A fountain of life? Those are real and one has been corrupted? How does one get it corrupted?

Hell! How does one stop a fog of irrefutable death?

And us Grimkeeps were supposed to be looking into this situation?! I've never been told anything. No hint of this from Madame Halu before she passed, not from Samel who can't keep a secret on a good day, and certainly not from Elder Damien who is supposed to be my mentor. I'll be an official Grimkeep in a few months, yet I haven't been informed about anything concerning contact with this creature of legend and the death fog.

My fingers touch the scarf.

I take a slow breath in.

Control over my deep-set instinct to run and- the now tumultuous- mind-over-heart divide is slowly coming back. I swallow back the bitterness of betrayal and the acidity of disrespect to breath out, never waving my gaze from the entity.

I breathe in, petting soft fibers.

"I see," the being murmurs, face turned towards me again. "I was trying to avoid this, but I'll speak with your elder about these matters instead. This leaves my other request."

There's more to be had? I bite my tongue just to make sure I'm not dreaming, that this is just the most detailed nightmare I've ever imagined. But I am still standing before a towering entity, feeling smaller than a child.

And now I have blood on my tongue and iron in my nose.

"This is the third time I've saved your life and as three is a number laden with potential, I would like to require you to extend me a favor in return."

He doesn't move much. It's like I'm talking to a statue. Which cements my reason for query concerning my sanity. Maybe this headache really is causing a hallucination.

"What...," my voice is not fully there. "What could I do for you?"

"Sign a binding with me."

Dios! I must be hallucinating.

"W-why?"

"Because," he starts, "with the process, I can tap into your seemingly endless human energy directly and continue mending the forest. I also hope to keep the fog at bay for as long as I can with what wisdom and strength I have. Even if we do manage to balance this upset, there's still a matter of what might try to come in during the vacancy of life."

"Madame Halu knew most about the forest. Why save me specifically? You could have saved her instead?"

One long arm swings behind him as the other sweeps forward to hold a hand over his chest as if he has a heart where humans do. His great frame leans forward, jolting my heart straight up to my throat and my toes twitching.

"She was dying anyway. She didn't have the strength to stop the fog or help me contain it. She..." His head gently hangs his head to the side and back up. "...died saving your village, ultimately."

His words confirmed my initial thoughts about Halu's death and that the other Grimkeeps kept the truth from me. To shelter me from what exactly, if that was their intention? The fog should have been threat enough to inform me and maybe include me in the research process.

"Your elders are skeptics. They question whether I'm of hindrance or help. Not that I blame them for their human emotions. I was once a man-eating creature. Anyone in their right mind would be fearful."

"Why m-me?"

The being steps closer to the edge of the dead clover and raises one hand, stretching out to me like my nightmare does. A long, tapered finger points at my waist. "An ancient version of my symbol, done in your hand."

My eyes fall to my belt, then my scarf. Aside from all the words and symbols I've made, the only one different and experimental is the combined seal. That is his symbol?

"In a way," he answers my unspoken question. "The strokes are a little different than my Operator's Mark, but the essence is enough to gain my attention and favor."

That night of my inauguration, the very first time I wore the scarf, the night I lost the Madame...

What would have happened if I didn't wear it?

"Do you want my perspective on that or should I ignore that question?'

My brows twitch and curl tight as something bubbles in my heart. A burst of something deeper than annoyance, stronger than frustration, and sharper than any bite I'm used to.

I breathe in, but through gritted teeth I voice my reply. "How 'bout you get out of my head."

I take the risk of upturning my gaze to potentially face my death.

The hand held over his chest raises further as if to hide a smirk with a mouth that isn't there, his spine straightening. "Even if I were release my tap, you are so easy to read at the moment. I've almost forgotten how amusing human youths are."

My lips twitch, wanting to lift into a snarl and follow through with cursing him in my family tongue, but then the thunderous pressure within my head disappears altogether. The release forces sweet, fresh air in my lungs to greedily savor in the freedom of that swirling, pulsing pain and wavering nausea, but my knees tremble. I beg them to keep me on my feet, but the phantom pain in my ankle drops me down. Every heave of my shoulders, as I stare holes into the ground, grants me more awareness of my facilities and my self-control.

With a final huff, my breathing returns to normal and I stand up to the entity once again. Not in my previous stance- though I still have to quell the want-, but in my polite, respectful pose as he could have killed me or let the fog claim my life. By his words, this was the third time and the first was nine years ago. That lion event had to have been his second rescue of me. In the end, I am in no position to continue being in a defensive perspective and disrespect the powerful entity before me.

I give a soft bow, lowering my eyes. "Thank you very much, Acebo. I am not accustomed to having my mind under such weight, it seems."

I feel a slight pressure between my ears, followed by his voice. "'Such weight,' ha. You are very well guarded by more than your thread-work. Despite my symbol's minor benefits without a binding, I had to use my powers quite heavily just to bear that much 'weight' on you. With the binding will be a different story."

I nod deeper into my bow, though I notice his lack of shoes and the strange alien feet. Shaking my head and straightening up, I face him once more.

"I am honored by the compliment."

The entity physically hums as his arm joins the one behind his back, also seemingly taking up a polite stance. The soft pressure returns in my head. "About the binding, do you agree?"

I am starting to get used to this strange manner of communication, but... I have my own question. "Was Madame Halu giving this offer? Did she accept?"

"Questions always beget questions with humans." He sighs, head tilting to the side. "I gave her the same offer, but she refused. She still supplied me with energy by accepting to wear a charged Mark. Doing it that way, however- and I am warning you as I warned her- weakens you considerably. Even aging drastically. She still managed to live a long life which did surprise me."

"Why didn't she want to take your offer? If being weakened and rapidly aging was her choice over the other option, how terrible is this binding?"

The entity centers his head, standing fully. I feel so miniscule like I've never felt before, even as a child.

"We simply exchange Marks providing a mental connection that would be almost unnoticeable and painless for you and me a way to find you wherever you are as easily as breathing. However...," he holds out an arm, hand up and claws gently relaxed open, "... I did warn her about the possible side effects."

"Which are?" I instantly follow up.

"Some people, after the binding, have gone mad. Quite feral killers, yet calculative at times. All broken in mind and/or body when I did it, though, and you humans are far stronger than those from the era I was born into. I haven't attempted another binding since the, what you call, End of the Old World to prove my theory. She didn't want to take that chance, however."

His chest rises and quickly falls with a sighing huff. "I don't blame her. On the other hand, I have high hopes for you. You're not dying and are far from broken. For all I know, you might benefit from this. This is unknown knowledge to me as well seeing as you humans have evolved much these past millennia."

I stare at him, softly, as I weigh this information. Want I really want is a chance to talk to both Grimkeeps and give them a family curse while calmly demanding explanations. Then, I might be able to seriously scale up possible risks and boons of this decision. My guess is that breaking this kind of connection won't be easy or possible, so I need to make a solid choice and face the consequences.

A lot has happened and the night is still young, judging from the stars' position. I've been given a lot of outlandish news, witnessed death in crawling cloud form, am talking with the content of my nightmares for years, am emotionally charged yet drained at the same time, and all I REALLY WANT is to lay down and cry... or scream... or both.

Instead, all that comes out is a steady voice. "May I have some time to think about this?"

The being nods. "By my calculations, the next possible wave shouldn't be until a few months from now, but again it's frequency has been increasing. I'd rather this be sooner over later, but I was tapped into your stream of consciousness earlier so I understand how this is the weight of the world on your shoulders at the moment."

I slowly blink and provide a cashmere smile. "Much appreciated, Acebo."

"That means 'holly,' correct?" He asks, so I nod. "What do you humans call me nowadays?"

"You are pale like the wood of the acebo tree. We call you the Living Holly for your branching reach in efforts to protect the forest. Children playfully say the Holly Man." My curiosity spikes, my words falling out faster than I can process. "What did the Old World people call you? What did the madame call you?"

"It depended on their strongest belief of me. Some names I am fond of like the Pale King, or the Operator. Some I will not utter for many reasons. Your madame simply called me forest spirit. I have no deep concern for names, so if I am Acebo to you then so it shall be. Not the worst of names I've been given."

Then his neck slopes, angling towards the dead buck behind him and body turning to follow the action. Then it raises to the treeline.

"I should clean up," he says with a whisper in my head before facing me once more. "When you're ready or if you have questions, just think about me while wearing my symbol."

I nod, but find him gone without a sound. Keeping my back straight and shoulders stuck in place, I delicately turn on the green clover and walk right up to the wood of my door. My Grim-staff lays right next to the wall but I choose to ignore it to step right inside, lock the door, and shed the belt and scarf. Uncaring that I let them drop to the ground, I fall face flat unto my bed.

What do I tell the Night Guard when they come by and the woods is still half-dead. What if they see the entity and try to fight him? They won't the danger they'd put themselves in. Dios. Judging from the star path, I'd wager their arrival in an hour.

But the comforting cushion of my blanket and pillow consoles my confused heart. Any energy I might have thought I had is zapped as I nuzzle into my pillow to breathe properly. The wall, mere inches from me, doesn't register in my vision despite my brain knowing it is there. All I see in the dim room with unfocused eyes is a replay of the past nine, no all twenty-three years of my life with an entirely new perspective and now question everything I know or have been taught.

Before I delve into that rabbit hole, I close my pained eyes for only a moment. I sigh and relax further into the familiar comfort, letting my mind pause to revel in blissful darkness.

A rhythmic tapping on glass breaks the calm in my head. Groaning, I sit up to see a shadowy hand hovering just outside my window. It taps again in that staccato pattern.

That's Frid. But... I just laid down. The forest will still be damaged and I haven't thought of an explanation yet.

Groaning with grit, I hop to my feet and throw open the door. "I can explain!"

Frid owlishly blinks at my outburst. I take the moment to study his unconcerned features wondering why he's not freaking out about the destruction of nature behind him. I glance beyond the older man, finding the treeline healthy and full of leaves. Just as it was when the sun first fell behind the horizon. Even the clover and creeping ivy on the stone wall seemingly remains untouched. And the buck is no where to be seen.

Nor can I spot the Living Holly.

"Now, now, Ly. I ain't gonna fault you for grabbing a nap. I know y'all Grimfolk had to work overtime in the past few days."

"Yeah," I softly respond, though I still scan the edge of the clearing.

I hadn't been inside for more than five minutes. How could that being mend the hundreds of trees visible from the Funeral Home in such short a time?

"I was even running behind, so your supper is a little cold. Sorry 'bout that."

"Oh," I robotically respond, "that's okay."

If the creature could heal the woods like that, why is he so concerned about my favor? With such power like that, he wouldn't need my assistance.

"I think you took too long a nap, Ly. You seem very dazed."

My gaze snaps to Frid to properly process everything he's said since arriving, then glances up to study the stars. I realize, like a fool, that I had actually fallen asleep for hours. My prior thoughts and assumptions, a demerit unto myself.

"I'm sorry, yes. I must be really out of it." My eyes ache and burn, prompting my hands to furiously rub at them. "Oy vey."

Once satisfied, I ease into the present in mind and body with a relaxed, casual presence. I offer my arms towards the fabric wrapped offering from Stockade's kitchen.

"But I am dreadfully excited for a meal from the Fire Pit. It might be just what I need to actually make it through the rest of the night."

The stout man of auburn hair yet earthy beard passes the meal along with a lopsided grin and as soon as he has a free hand, lays three weighted pats on my shoulder. In spite of his shorter stature even.

"Like I said, no one blames any of you Grimfolk for being so tired. Tomorrow'll be the last day, right?" He chuckles, loudly. "Unless someone else dies, right?"

I hold the meal close as I softly nod to Frid's words. All the mourning families will come tomorrow for the Final Debuts. After that, the Home will be empty save for us Grimkeeps. And I don't believe anyone is on hold by the Physician or immediately dying in the Ward, so it'll be empty for a while. If all goes well.

Nodding to myself now, I smile at Frid. "Thank you for being understanding. I'm gonna warm this up, so you have a safe journey back. Okay?"

The armored man turns, waving me off with a warm grin. "Aye, Ly! Nothing but smooth strollin' ahead, ma'am."

I wave at him until he disappears around the corner. Glancing one more scan over the woods, I back into my room and close the door, locking it. I set the meal down and follow through the practiced motions of untying the wrap, opening the box, turning the stove on, and warming the meal. It's only until I sit down at my desk, staring out the window and probably beyond the planet entirely while I for the food to cool.

I have to accept that my nightmare is actually my savior, times three. I have to accept that the Madame died, not by him, but somehow as a result of saving Stockade. I have to accept that secrets were kept from me despite intentions or excuses. I have to continue on like normal because there's no proof to use to anyone outside the Grimkeeps.

But Dios and stars above am I not drained, void of anything except knowledge of the chair I sit in and the warped view of the woods outside. My eyelids hang heavy. My heart lower still. For all I care, the damned muscle could only be beating once per minute and I wouldn't notice. Maybe it's not there at all. That would explain why my chest feels devoid, like my mental functions as well.

But everything looks normal.

Maybe I imagined it the whole thing. Perhaps I've finally lost it. If that's the case, as long as it happens when I'm alone I shouldn't harm anyone.

Feeling a little better, I glance down at my cooled meal and enjoy myself as if nothing went wrong.

Because nothing went wrong, probably.

I manage to finish my food, but find myself staring into the depths of my cup as it clings unto one solitary drop of tea. Like my mind grasping unto the final straw of sanity.

Third chapter!

This story is very original, so let me know what you think (-: