There is a children's tale that many tell but few believe.
They say the writings of Wilhelm Grimm weren't fairy tales at all. That every wolf, every curse, every girl lost in a dark wood was pulled from something real. People laughed at that. Called it the kind of thing you tell children to make the dark feel meaningful.
Then the dark started moving.
Magic and monsters, myths and fables, all were given teeth to bear. The world cracked open and what spilled out of it was older and stranger than any story anyone had thought to write down. Every corner of it held something that shouldn't exist. Every ocean had a bottom nobody had come back from.
In one of those corners, the land was desolate.
Fog hung over everything like a held breath, clinging to the grey earth, swallowing the horizon whole. No trees. No water. No suggestion that anything had ever decided to stay. Just the white pressing in from every direction.
In the middle of it stood a girl.
She couldn't have been older than twenty. She held a child in her arms — no older than seven — his small body pressed against her chest, his face wet. She was wrapping something around his neck. A crimson scarf, far too large for his small frame, the ends trailing past his knees. She wrapped it once, then again, tucking it with the specific care of someone who knows they won't get another chance.
"Fairy tales are bullshit."
Her voice was flat. Not cruel. Just certain, the way people are certain about things they learned the hard way.
"There's no such thing as a happy ending."
The child's golden eyes stared up at her. Tears streaked his face, more coming. His mouth was open and trembling with the specific grief of someone too young to understand what's happening and old enough to know it's bad.
"Don't cry."
She pulled the scarf up over his mouth, covering the sounds of his sobs. Her hands stayed there a moment longer than they needed to.
"I'll make sure you get yours."
————————————
Looking through the windows you could see every room was filled. A jungle of dorm rooms, all filled with five bodies each. So much personality in each room, you'd wonder how much longer the building would stand for.
RINNNGGGGGGGGG.
They erupted all at once. Pouring through halls, down stairs, through the double doors into a dining hall that was never meant for all of them. The line moved mechanically. Each tray filled to the exact same portion, not a grain more.
"Can't you add some more?"
The cafeteria lady didn't respond. Just stared at him until he shivered and moved along. He had long black hair covering his ears, a crimson ragged scarf around his neck over an otherwise ordinary uniform. He took his tray to a seat near the big windows, pitch black from the new moon.
"You think they'll ever budge."
A girl with dark brown hair and freckles was staring at the cafeteria ladies. The boy sat down without looking at her, took a bite of rice with small meat chunks.
"At least they gave us meat this time."
"Might as well give us more. Not like we'll last after they kick us out anyways."
A boy with scruffy hair and a tan complexion had his hands sprawled over the table, not touching his food.
"Who's we? Not me."
Cass reached over and took a spoonful of his rice.
"Cass, you fucking glutton!"
Leo went for her plate. She cut off his spoon.
"If you're just gonna die Leo, let me have some."
"That's next year moron."
Their spoons clashed back and forth until Cass flung Leo's across the room, a sly smile on her face.
"Hiro gimme your spoon!"
Hiro had already finished eating. He sat staring at his plate. Leo yanked at the scarlet scarf around his neck.
"Hiro! How're you even wearing that in this heat."
Hiro looked over. Leo signed with his hand.
Gimme your spoon. Cass flung mine.
Hiro handed it over without a word.
"How many days left?"
He readjusted the scarf, making sure it fit snug.
Cass signed back. About two months.
Hiro looked back at his plate. He tensed his jaw. Then finally opened his mouth.
"I want—"
RINGGGG. The end of dinner bell cut through the hall.
Cass and Leo grabbed their trays and left. Hiro followed slowly, the last one out. He paused at the door, looking back at his reflection in the giant window.
"I want to leave this island."
He stood there a moment. As if waiting for his reflection to respond.
It did. The mouth moved.
Run.
He couldn't hear it. He stood frozen, eyes wide. Through the reflection — two yellow glowing balls.
A skinny hand burst through the window, shattering it, reaching straight for his neck. It caught the scarf instead, unraveling it, letting it drop. Hiro fell back, scrambling, petrified — ineligible sounds coming out of him.
The creature was too fast. In an instant it bit his arm clean off.
"ARGHHHHHHH!!"
His blood curdling scream reached Leo and Cass outside. Hiro's body hit the floor before they could move, shutting down entirely from the shock.
Peering in, their hearts dropped.
The creature's limbs stretched wide. Ash-grey skin pulled tight over bone. Head sunken into the skull, teeth permanently exposed. A single antler growing from the left side. The smell hit them before anything else — rot and cold iron. Cass threw up. Leo barely held it together.
The creature opened its mouth, voice cracked, a voice that wasn't it's own. A voice that belonged to Hiro.
"I want to leave…"
They were frozen.
"I want—"
A shard of glass flew at the creature's neck. Small beads of blood trickled out. Behind the food bar, a small boy crouched, cheeks stuffed, eyes fixed on the creature.
A small boy bobbed down behind where the cafe ladies had been previously. He was stuffing his face with food.
The creature shifted, it's gaze landing on the pest.
BANG! BANG! Two heavily armed men at the window opened fire, driving it back.
Cass and Leo took this opportunity to grab their unconscious friend and run.
The creature lunged at the men. More emerged from the shadows with nets, snaring it, berating it with gunfire until it stopped moving.
In the commotion one man picked up the crimson scarf from the floor. Tall but lanky, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, short black hair, a scar running from his forehead down to his nose.
"This the scarf you was making a fuss about?!"
The little boy climbed up from behind the food bar, mouth still stuffed, nodding furiously as he ran over.
"If you care so much, stop leaving it behind!"
The man threw the scarf onto the boy. It landed over the boy's face. The crimson scarf covering his golden eyes, way too big for him. Dark red curly hair converging into black tips, golden pupils blinking out from under the fabric. The boy, Naren, couldn't be older than ten.
"Stop yelling. My ears hurt already."
The man's eyes glided towards the lumps of rice latching onto the boy's cheeks.
"Did you eat the meat?"
His voice wasn't angry, just concerned. A parent hoping to god that their child didn't get to the medicine cabinet.
"No. You told me so many times. It's for the hardworking students."
Naren stuck out his tongue showing the chewed up white grains. Nothing even remotely meaty in sight.
The man sighed, gazing at him longingly for a long moment.
—————————————
"Maren, you told me you had them under control. Now one of my residents lost a hand."
The headmaster's office was small and cluttered. She stood behind her desk, fury barely contained. Maren stood opposite, absorbing it, Naren sitting atop his shoulders like this was a completely normal place to be.
"Are you taking this seriously at all?! You even brought a kid in here!"
"I get it, I messed up. These things are supposed to be hungry but they barely come out. Hard to track."
The headmaster rested her forehead on her hands. Exhaling deeply.
"Doesn't matter now. I had to summon a shaman."
Maren straightened immediately, dropping Naren from his shoulders without thinking.
Thump. Naren hit the floor and stayed there.
"You can't summon a shaman. They cost a fortune — and who knows if they're even legitimate. Have you ever actually seen one?"
The headmaster ran over to Naren.
"Are you okay?"
Her eyes contorted into a look of confusion and wonder.
"Where did Maren pick you up from?"
"No more screaming."
"Huh?"
"You heard him he's fine. Anyways the shama-"
"It's been three years and it's not getting better, Maren."
"I get it but a shaman? Really?"
"Why do you care so much? Our days are numbered as is. What's the point in saving money now?"
Maren opened his mouth. Closed it. He looked up and let out a long heavy sigh.
"Come on, you've done enough."
Naren didn't say anything. Cozy in his scarf. Still sprawled out on the floor, eyes tired and sleepy.
Maren grabbed him by the leg and dragged him out. The headmaster watched them go, horrified. The door swinging shut behind them. Maren's voice going low in the hallway beyond.
"You changed the reflection didn't you?"
Naren didn't respond.
Maren grabbed at his hair. Evidently overwhelmed with annoyance.
"Please. Stop using it."
"How come?"
"That."
Maren looked down at him, then crouched and placed Naren right-side up on the floor. He patted his head slowly.
"That's not for you to know."
Naren didn't say anything, he didn't argue. He just yawned at the redundant response he was used to hearing.
More than anything though, he was too tired to argue. The dark moonless night had all but set in. Morning still a ways out.
—————————
The sun had barely broken the horizon. The dark murky waters glistened in the early morning light. The beach was small and clean, bordered by a shallow forest. A young woman — Looking to be in her early 20s — had washed up on shore, soaking wet, blonde hair in disarray, a single black ribbon hanging from it. She was a mess, but in spite of that, her beauty held an enchanting presence of grace.
She pushed herself upright and coughing aggressively.
"Urghh! COUGH— That's horrible!"
She looked around.
"I Guess— COUGH— I'm here."
Her coughing continued, annoying her.
"FUCK'S SAKE."
It finally stopped.
In exchange for this moment of bliss however, a bird passed overhead and dropped something wet and pungent directly onto her. She looked up at it, expression blank, then slowly collapsing into grief.
"BJOOORRNNNN!"
—————————————
In the headmaster's office, a tall sturdy man stood. Stiff like a soldier. His presence garnered nothing but fear. He wore formal attire, perfectly ironed and tucked. His face was laced with burn marks leaving only half unscathed. His hair was short, border a buzz cut.
"Bjorn… Was it?"
The headmaster sat at her desk, carefully examining the man in front of her. A look of skepticism mixed with wary present on her wrinkled face.
The headmaster sat examining him, skepticism written across her wrinkled face. Bjorn nodded without breaking eye contact.
The door swung open. Maren walked in.
"You the shaman?"
He studied Bjorn, cringing slightly at the scarring. He lit a cigarette and placed it between his lips. Bjorn shook his head.
"You're not?"
"I am lady Alice's weapon."
———————————————
Alice walked along the beach slightly hunched, muttering to herself.
"This is horrible. Bjorn's probably out there hungry and lost. This is the worst."
Off in the distance a small boy sat in the sand, a glass bottle beside him, scribbling something on a piece of paper. Alice came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.
Nothing but chicken scratch.
She fell back laughing. Naren lurched forward, startled.
"Are you writing to aliens? You're too old to write like that."
"When did you—"
Alice continued laughing. Naren grew flustered.
"Stop laughing. It's not my fault."
"Who else's fault is it."
"Maren won't teach me. He says it's useless."
"No way! Is Maren a dumbass?!"
Alice held her stomach. Wheezing for air. This was just too much for her. A little boy scribbling nonsense and a guy who thinks writings useless. This island sure was funny.
Naren threw a fistful of sand into her mouth. She went into a coughing fit, grabbed his foot, and threw him into the ocean.
"You…COUGH…little...COUGH."
With a splash Naren disappeared into the obsidian-colored sea.
"Hopefully he drowns."
She sat looking at his paper. Wondering what the boy was writing so endearingly. It was no use, she couldn't make out a single word.
Behind her the ocean surface broke — a giant tentacle rising, rising behind Naren.
Alice's eyes had gone wide. Then she let out a small giggle.
"He's got some real horrible luck."
Naren continued flailing around. In doing so his body turned and his eyes landed on the giant tentacle. His flailing grew even more erratic.
Alice stood on the beach, her hand to hear mouth thinking. She had one finger pointing downwards as if by habit. Suddenly, just as fast as the tentacle rose, it fell back down. As if the pulled down by some invisible force.
"I swear I saw that scarf before…"
Flailing around Naren didn't realize that the beast had plunged back into the dark murky waters. He was too scared, afraid of the monsters that lived in the sea. Though, as his thoughts wondered a hand grabbed him by his wrist, pulling him back to shore.
"What were you trying to write?"
He glared at her. In return Alice did the same, a shiver ran down his spine.
"Come on, fess up."
Naren picked the paper up, shoved it into the bottle, and threw it into the ocean.
"What're you—"
"It's a message."
"It's just going to sink you know."
"That's the point, that's how it'll reach her."
Naren paused for a second, thinking about whether to end his sentence right there.
"Well that's what Maren said."
Alice didn't speak for a second. Looking at the ripples of water on the reflectionless water slowly fade.
"Who?"
"My older sister."
She sat there, in gazing into the ocean. The obsidian skin surface making no attempt to share in her expression. 'That's what Maren said huh?'
She grabbed her knees, pushing on them as she got to her feet.
"What a shame. I'd hate to be her."
"What?"
"If someone's sending me messages, I'd at least want to read them."
"How can I? It's not like I don't want to. Nobody will teach me?"
"Then do it yourself."
"You think I didn't try? Everybody forg—"
Her eyes were still facing the endless horizon that ocean nestled itself on. As if looking at something just out of view.
"If that's what you truly wanted. Then who could stop you?"
Naren stared at her. His golden eyes reflecting her figure growing smaller. He wondered why those words felt so special to him. They were just words after her, nothing special.
Alice turned and began walking towards the forest. Naren called out behind her.
"SHE'S NOT REALLY DEAD! I'M GOING TO FIND HER! THAT'S WHAT I REALLY WANT!"
Alice raised her hand and waved. A crooked smile darkened her face.
"Ah that's why it's familiar."
Naren stood alone, looking at his reflection in a small puddle in the sand. The reflection waved at him.
"I'll find her and get rid of this curse."
He stepped into the reflection and kept sinking, as if passing through a portal.
——————————
"You're telling me that Alice will show up. But no matter what she'll be late?"
Bjorn nodded his head.
Maren paced throughout the room. Biting his nails.
"Are you kidding me? This island might be small but at least do your job!"
"Maren is right. We can't brief you on the job, and we already paid the down payment. What will you do if everyone here dies?"
Bjorn didn't say anything. He was indifferent to anything around him that didn't directly involve Lady Alice in a negative way. Not in his jurisdiction.
Maren leaned closer to the headmaster, speaking in a hushed tone.
"Are you sure you even contacted the right channel?"
"I'm starting to doubt I did. I already sent over—"
He was indifferent, but he couldn't be this time. Any further and Alice's name would be slandered.
"The Wendigos will be dealt with tonight."
Silence dropped over the room.
"Wendigos?"
"Our task."
Maren straightened and walked toward Bjorn.
"How'd you know? About Wendigos?"
Bjorn held his gaze.
"Mare—?"
A knock at the door. Maren walked over and opened it, one eye still on Bjorn.
A young woman stood in the doorway. Long blonde hair, a black ribbon hanging from the back of it. Despite the coat that swallowed her frame and the salt still drying on her skin, there was something about her presence that made the room feel immediately smaller.
She looked straight past Maren like he wasn't there.
"Bjorn, you're safe!"
She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. Bjorn stood with the stillness of someone accustomed to being embraced by a hurricane.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Alice."
She pulled back from Bjorn, finally acknowledging the room.
"I'm the shaman you ordered."
The silence that followed was brief and ugly.
"YOU'RE the shaman?"
Maren turned to the headmaster. His expression had the specific quality of a man deciding whether to laugh or walk out entirely.
"Did you go senile?"
Then the floor left him.
It happened without warning — Maren's body shot upward as if gravity had simply changed its mind about him, hit the ceiling with a crack, and dropped. He crumpled to the floor and didn't move. The headmaster stumbled back into her chair.
Alice had already pulled a chair to the front of the desk, completely ignoring the feat of magic that just occurred. She sat down, crossed her legs, and looked at the headmaster the way you look at someone to hide your disgust.
"Let's talk."
The headmaster opened her mouth. Nothing useful came out.
"There's a scent of cold iron and blood that lingers in this city."
Alice's voice was light. Conversational. Like she was discussing the weather.
"And I saw no animals nearby. No farms."
The room went quiet. The headmaster looked at her desk.
"You know what that means."
"We can't help it."
Her voice had gone small, all authority drained out of it.
"The ocean can't be crossed. The other nations are too far. There's no other—"
Alice leaned forward. Her eyes fixed on the headmaster's with the patience of someone who has already decided how this conversation ends.
"This is cannibalism."