PROLOGUE

Even if you heard of this before, once upon a time, there was a small Hallenhaus cottage in the middle of the dark forest of Märchenbuch. That was the name of the town. A town so isolated from the world that even the Kingdom of Prussia tend to forget it exists. Or perhaps, they do know it exists but many are so afraid of it that they wish that it didn't exist. That it would be nothing more but a fairy tale. But much to Prussia's misfortune, it does exist, and it is an accursed land, and anyone who stays there are cursed to live unfortunate fates. And it is here in this forest that many would prefer to avoid, even in the daylight. 

But not Godelinde Haas. She has lived in the Dark Forest for many years. Surrounded by tall trees and with no neighbours nearby. It's been her home since she was a young woman and unlike many, she hasn't faced such terrible horrors. For she lives protected, even in the day. The garden in front of her house is planted with monkshood to repel the wolves from getting near her cottage. She even has them hanging by the windows and doors in pots. And Lady's mantles grow between the rocks around her cottage. But most importantly, she has a cross hanging from the entrance door. So she has nothing to worry about.

Or does she? - 

CHOP!

Godelinde cuts off the head of a white rabbit on a wooden chopping block, on top of a small round table. Her hands are bloody and slick with rabbit fat. The decapitated head of the rabbit lays next to the chopping block with its beady eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling. 

Godelinde Haas is an old and serene-looking woman in her late 60's, with silvery hair braided over her shoulder and dressed in a white nightgown, making her appear like a ghost. Especially when her face is just as pale as her nightgown. An apron embroidered with blue flower patterns around the edges is draped over her gown and tied around her waist to make sure she doesn't get stained by the rabbit's blood. 

She hums a song called The Duration of Life in a soft melancholic tune as she continues to chop the rabbit meat into small square pieces. It is then cleaned and dumped into a boiling cauldron that hangs above a burning fireplace. 

Godelinde takes a wooden spoon and stirs the pot, mixing the rabbit meat with the carrots, pepper, onions, garlic, juniper berries and red wine. 

"This should make for a good Hasenpfeffer indeed," she mutters as she cleans her hands with a wet cloth.

She walks away from the fireplace to the cupboards at the other side of the cottage to grab a jar of tea leaves. The inside of the cottage is fairly simple. The flooring is made of hardwood. And on this floor alone, there is only the round kitchen table beneath the open window, the cabinets and a blue tattered 1760 sofa covered in deer fur blankets. 

Godelinde tosses the cloth aside once her hands are cleansed. As she opens the cupboard and searches for the jar of tea leaves, she proceeds to sing The Duration of Life. 

"When God created the world and was about to determine the duration of life for all the creatures, the donkey came and asked, "Lord, how long am I to live?" God gave him thirty years and asked if it was all right with him. The donkey replied 'That is a long time. Think of my existence carrying heavy loads from dawn till dusk -."

SCRAAAATCH. 

Godelinde pauses. Her grey eyes looks towards the door. 

There's scratching noises coming from the other side of her door. Outside of her cottage. Godelinde frowns at the noise. 

The scratching suddenly stops. 

Though confused as she is, she decides to proceed with her evening, assuming that it was just a squirrel coming down from her rooftop. Her cottage is standing next to an oak tree, after all. 

She continues to sing. 

"'Carrying heavy loads from dawn till dusk and dragging bags of grain so others can eat. Only to be rewarded with kicks and blows.' So God had mercy and only gave him eighteen -." 

Boom!

Godelinde gasps and jumps back with a fright. The jar slips from her fingers and shatters upon impacting the floor. She places her hand to her chest where her heart beats fast as she tries to calm down by taking deep breaths. 

Someone is pounding on her cottage door. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

If only she knew who it is. She wasn't expecting visitors, especially so late at night when everyone in the village nearby should be asleep. And no one should be in the Dark Forest at this hour. Mainly because of the Wolves. The Wolves are the devils in this forest. 

Even so, who could be knocking on her door?

Once her breathing steadies, Godelinde calls out. 

"Hello? Who's there?" 

No one responds. 

"Who's there!?" she repeats louder this time. 

Silence.

And then - 

BANG! BANG! BANG!

It happens again. Right in front of her. The pounding becomes louder. More insisting. 

Godelinde jumps once more. But instead of being fearful, she becomes irritated. She groans before marching over to the door with a huff. 

"If it's one of those children out there trying to frighten me, I will have their heads." 

Godelinde is no stranger to being tricked by the village children. Due to being known as harsh and stern by most of the townspeople, some dislike her presence. But she is most definitely despised by the village children. Yet, that hasn't stop them from pulling her leg whenever she leaves her cottage to purchase food from Mr. Folke's Grocer and more firewood from the local woodsman Deorwine (since her hands are now too frail to chop wood on her own). One time, they did literally pull at her leg once with a cane in an attempt to knock her down. There have been other times when some of them have snatched her basket in order to have her chase them. They would even throw her basket in the mud and ruin her groceries. Godelinde wouldn't let it go unpunished, of course. She would usually tell their parents but if they don't discipline their children as they should, Godelinde would certainly do it herself. 

And so she will, once she catches whoever is pounding at her door. 

It gets relentless the closer she gets. 

"All right!" she shouts. "That's quite enough of you!" 

She roughly pulls the door open. 

"What do you...want..?" 

There's no one standing at the other side of the door. 

Godelinde stares at the empty air with astonishment. Her mouth is slightly agape and speechless. 

She slowly peeks her head outside. 

She looks around the outside of her cottage to see who has been scratching and banging on her damn door. But there is no one around to be seen.

If there's no one here, then who was knocking?

"Hello!? Who is out there!?" she yells out. 

Once again, no response. 

Godelinde starts to get nervous. She rubs her arms as goosebumps prickle her skin. Something doesn't feel right. Yet, she tries no to jump to conclusions. She wants to assume it was just the village kids and their usual tomfoolery. 

"Is that you out there, Ludwig!? Go home! Before I tell your mother!" 

Nothing. 

And then...

SNAP. 

Godelinde whips her head around. Her eyes scan the edge of the forest at the sound of twigs snapping and shrubs rustling. 

At first, she sees nothing. 

Then seconds later, like a shadow, a wolf slowly steps out of the thickets. A huge black-furred wolf (larger than a brown bear), with a hunched back and glowing yellow eyes like the Harvest Moon.

His lips curl up in a snarl and his exposed fangs are sharp and white as bones.

Godelinde gasps. No, not you again. 

"No, you stay away." 

She grabs a shotgun that's reclined against the wall near the doorway and aims it at the wolf. "Away with you beast!" 

She fires her gun. 

BAM!

The wolf yelps as the bullet hits the tree next to it. It then darts back into the woods, disappearing in the darkness. Almost as if swallowed by the ominous shadows. Where other beasts like it lurk. 

Breathing heavily, Godelinde rushes back inside the cottage and slams the door shut. Her hands trembles as she hastily bolts the locks. She runs to the cupboards once more where she retrieves a small wooden box full of silver bullets. A perfect solution for a beast like him. 

"Fucking bastard thinks he can try and break into my home," she grumbles as she loads her gun. "I'll show him." 

Once her gun is loaded, she aims at the entrance. 

Where she waits for the wolf to return and attack once more. Beads of sweat form above her brow and her hands continue to shake. 

But as time goes by, nothing happens. No scratching. Or banging. 

Just absolute silence. 

Only the low hollow wind can be heard. 

After a minute passes, Godelinde slowly lowers her gun -. 

Only for the banging to commence again. But more forcefully. 

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Louder and more violent. 

Godelinde shrieks. 

The banging is now coming from the closed windows. The shutters rattle and shake along with the door. That's when Godelinde realizes...

This is no wolf. 

This is something else entirely. 

Godelinde looks around her cottage in sheer terror as the door and windows continue to rattle and bang. 

She then hears the sound of bubbling. 

Godelinde glances over to the fireplace. 

The cauldron is now boiling with bubbles surfacing profusely. 

The stew is overheating. The broth dribbles over the brim along with vegetables and chunks of half-cooked meat. Godelinde watches in confusion. She didn't set the fire too high for it to be boiling so soon. 

As the stew continues to overflow, the broth turns blood red, and bones begin to surface. Human bones. 

Godelinde clutches the shotgun to her chest as she hollers and takes a step back. 

Ominous whispers can be heard all around her cottage but no matter where she looks, she can't see where they're coming from. They're everywhere. Not even covering her ears can block them out. Like they're in her head. 

The whispers repeat her name, almost as if there were multiple people mocking her, but all having the same female voice. 

"Godelinde."

"What do you want!?" Godelinde shouts out. 

"Godelinde." 

"Begone, demon! Leave me be!"

Godelinde's shaky fingers reached into the collar of her nightgown and pulls out her rosary beads with an apple-sized silver crucifix. She starts yelling Psalms 121: 7-8 in German. 

"The Lord shall preserve me from all evil! He shall preserve my soul! The Lord shall preserve my going out and my coming in from this time forth and even forevermore..."

However, the whisper did not cease. The further she prays, the louder the voices become. And the more she proceeds to speak the word of God, the angrier do the voices become. 

"Bitch!"

"The Lord shall preserve me -." 

"Traitor!" 

"He shall preserve my soul -."

"Unfaithful whore!" 

"The Lord shall preserve my going out -." 

"You're going to hell, Godelinde! The Lord has abandoned you. The Lord has left your soul for me to feast upon -."

"Shut it," Godelinde whimpers. 

"You will be dragged to hell -!"

"Shut it!"

"And you will burn in hell just like you burned me!" 

Godelinde brings her hands to her ears and screams. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

After what felt like minutes, all the banging and whispering ceases. And the cauldron stops boiling. 

Everything is quiet. 

Yet, Godelinde's head whips around frantically. She can sense that it's not over yet. Whatever is stalking her is still around, watching and waiting for another opportunity to torment her. 

When her eyes focus on the fireplace, the blazing flames snuffs out with a hush (the sound of someone's last breath), leaving nothing but smoke and embers. Silence once again fills the air. Not even the wind can be heard. Only the thundering heartbeat in Godelinde's heaving chest.She proceeds to stare at the fireplace, eyes wide and watery, and her mouth agape. A low whimper escapes her thin chapped lips. Her hands tighten around her shotgun. 

And then she hears it again. That voice returns. Now angrier than ever. And it wails in uncontrollable fury. 

"GODELINDE!"

A hand suddenly bursts out from out of the cauldron. A dark claw-like hand with festering sores and sharp coarse grey hair. Its thin needle-like fingers curl over the cauldron's brim. Threatening to leave the depths of the pot. And the voices return once more. Louder and angrier than ever. Like the screams of a thousands souls. All of them wailing at Godelinde with intense sorry and rage. 

And then slowly emerging from the cauldron, is a head. The head of a woman. With blank white eyes staring straight at Godelinde.

But before the woman emerges from the cauldron further, Godelinde screams in horror and aims the shotgun at the woman. 

"Noooooo!" 

BANG! 

The gun fires, sparks bursting from its dark hollow muzzle. 

Godelinde shoots three times. 

Then...

SPLAT!

A significant amount of blood splatters onto the painting, mainly on the child's face. 

And then, silence. No screams, no gunshots, no whispers. Just empty silence. And the dribble of blood. 

The gun lays on the floor untouched. A puddle of blood pools next to it. A fly buzzes and lands on the eye of the decapitated rabbit. 

And outside of Godelinde's cottage, deep scratches mark on the door and walls.