Chosen by fate to do its bidding, a newborn child will find itself shunned by his kind and left to die in a forest. How will fate thread his path forward?
Fate. Such a mysterious and fickle thing, able to turn kings into paupers and farmers into heroes; Controlling the world from the shadows with its invisible threads.
One of such threads had landed itself into the rural village of Rorikstead, carrying promises of grandeur, it avoided the piss-poor farmers and sneaked into a brightly lit hut. There, between dancing shadows created by a burning fireplace, a woman screamed her lungs out as her husband held her hand and the village midwife administered her services.
"Push!" Incited the midwife between the woman's legs, readying a warm blanket to welcome the infant into its embrace.
"ARGH!" screamed back the laboring woman, investing all her strength into pushing out what at the moment she had started consideringing a big mistake. Locks of her copper hair glued with sweat to her face and neck as the veins on her forehead popped under the skin like red snakes.
With another push, under the worried gaze of the husband holding her hand, something finally came into the world; A tiny foot, red like beets but wrinkly, waved in the air experiencing the thrill of freedom.
However, as they rightfully say, one man's fortune (or thrill in this case) is another man's tragedy. The midwife looked at that tiny foot and grimaced. "He is coming in a breech position! we have to hurry, otherwise, the baby might choke or worse, the umbilical cord might tighten around his neck!"
Her voice didn't betray the apprehension she felt as she professionally incited the mother to keep pushing, and with her free hands, she took a pair of forceps trying to ease the baby in the world.
That's when fate struck. Agilely going past the midwife, it coiled like a snake around the baby's foot and went up reaching its frail neck where a fleshy rope had formed a lethal noose around, ready to close, robbing its tiny life before it even began.
However, fate wouldn't allow it. With a gentle push, the umbilical cord left the baby free to continue its trip, however, fate hadn't traveled all this way out of pity for the baby. Its plan had just begun, the string of fate adorned the head of the unborn like a crown disappearing like an illusion.
A minute later, the baby had finally been delivered. Tired breaths escaped the lips of the exhausted mother, suffocating in the tight embrace of her husband. The midwife also wore a tired expression on her face as she rocked back and forth with a little crying bundle in her arms.
What the couple didn't see, as they were too busy comforting each other, was what hid beneath the midwife's expression as she observed the newborn.
"Mathilda! By Pelor, I can't express how thankful I am for what you did." the husband had at some point released his wife that finally could breathe again, and instead addressed the midwife, Mathilda. "Take what we discussed beforehand, and two extra wheels of cheese, as a token of my immense gratitude."
The tall man approached with a staggered step that had been with him from when a goat had rammed into his knee, ruining his dreams of adventuring. A smile decorated his face as his hands went forward to hold his firstborn. However, the hands grabbed nothing but hair as Mathilda took a step back at the last moment.
"Oh holy Myrrah, this..." she said taking a pause to look between the baby and the man, "I'm sorry Pavlov, I really am," she said between her lips in a growingly horrified expression. Pavlov's smile froze and his stare hardened. "Give me the child Mathilda." His right hand extended in a demanding gesture.
"I... can't, I'm doing this for your sake too, this thing should have never been born." She said, almost crying out loud the last part and, with another step approached the door. "I can't give it to you, it has to die." Screaming the last part she turned around and hiding the baby in her bosom she ran through the door and into the night.
"MY BABY!" Screamed the desperate mother who had never even held her child before. "BRING IT BACK!" She added reaching for nothing. Without waiting, Pavlov chased after Mathilda whizzing past old stone cabins and perplexed villagers that had been waiting just outside the hut to congratulate him.
"STOP HER, SHE TOOK MY CHILD!" Yelled Pavlov at the confused crowd. The smartest among them immediately understood and tried to restrain the woman who had turned into a fury, wildly charging out of the circle. Just as she had finally made it past the few last people, she knocked into an immovable object.
More precisely, an immovable person. Tall like a bear and half as hairy, chief Harrold looked down with severity at the kidnapper, a thick mustache covering his scowl like a curtain.
Holding his callous hand on the handle of a woodsman's ax he asked: "care to explain what's going on, Mathilda." His voice, deep like the night sky, pronounced her name like a father that had caught her daughter stealing from his room.
"Chief Harrold..." she attempted to say before looking down on the wrapped blanket in her hands and, deciding words weren't enough, she reluctantly revealed its content to the chief.
"In the name of all the divines, what is that?" he asked with a hint of fear as his gaze landed on the baby. Its wrinkly newborn skin had lost the rosy tint a healthy baby should have and had turned a mix of grey and light blue, on his temples two tiny horns bulged from under the skin, one brown and one black.
But what chilled Harrold and all those close enough that could see the child were his eyes. Two red orbs with black pupils in the middle, wide-open unlike any newborn they had ever seen.
Chief Harrold's hold on his ax tightened, as he stared into the beast's eyes he could feel it staring back; It didn't matter that it was less than 3 kg or smaller than his hand, that thing sent chills down his spine, so strong he felt that if he blinked it would be upon him.
"Let me through!" Pavlov had finally made his way through the crown and finally found Mathilda and his stolen child. "There you are! Give me back my-" he demanded his son back, only for his words to die in his throat the moment he saw his son, even his legs almost gave up before he could get a hold of himself.
After a moment of hesitation, Pavlov and Harrold's eyes interlocked in wordless communication, "Pavlov..." tried reasoning the chief, but was cut down with a decisive "No, It's my child."
Harrold tried retorting, "Your child?" he asked almost in a mocking tone, "look at that perversion of an infant what of it reminds you of a person? Your wife must have consorted with a devil or offended a witch! How else could she give birth to such an abomination?" his voice then softened looking at his friend "Let me deal with it." he said emphasizing the 'me'.
However, one look and Harrold understood that his offer had fallen on deaf ears. "I'm gonna ask you this for the last time as a friend, go back to your wife and tell her the child was born dead. Next time I'm asking it will be as Chief." His thumb played on the pommel of the ax, his last attempt to push his friend to concede.
"And what would you do with him? kill him here like a dog?" Snarled Pavlov at the herculean man.
"No. I don't want whatever flows in his cursed veins to stain the soil or my hands. I'll abandon him in the forest and if the gods made a mistake in allowing this Hell-spawn to the surface then they will solve it too." He replied tried to avoid looking at the thing's face, he could hear the incessant crying but steeled his neck not to turn.
"And are you all going to allow him to do this?" Asked Pavlov to the people gathered around, only to receive cold looks. "I see..." he then turned to Harrold "We have been best friends ever since we were little, so I'm begging you, please, in the name of our friendship, just let me, my wife, and the baby to go, " he begged kneeling down, knowing he had no chances against the 2-meter tall man. "You'll never hear of us again," he added, his voice meak.
"You know I can't, rumors would spread I allowed a demon to roam free," he replied Harrold seeing a glitter of hope to finish this without bloodshed.
"Then you also know I can't just let you kill my son," replied Pavlov closing his fists and standing up. His eyes held an unbreakable resolve and his back stood straight against the cold winds of autumn, his aura matching the heroic Chief.
"So be it." Concluded Chief Harrold raising his ax.
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An hour later, in the middle of the Valoran Forest.
A group of three armed men and a midwife marched in single file along an abandoned forest trail long torches blazed through the darkness, with them, traveling in the midwife's bosom slept the creature that became an orphan not 20 minutes after he was born.
"This is far enough," whispered Chief Harrold, his haughty air had grown weaker, polluted by melancholy and regret. The group broke formation and gathered around him.
Harrold took the sleeping baby, even with its eyes closed he could feel the malice pouring out of his every pore, and deposited him softly on the ground, wary not to wake it up.
"Because of you two of my greatest friends have died under my own hand." He took a long deep breath, "I don't know if you are truly evil or not, however, I'd rather have the weight of three innocents on my hands than endanger the whole village for a single act of mercy, if you are innocent then I hope you'll forgive me as I send you off to meet your parents."
Without adding anything else he turned and left from whence he came, his little group following closely.
Soon, darkness reclaimed the forest and swallowed the child whole. From afar the howls of wind ran through the trees collecting dry leaves with them. However, something broke the normalcy of it all, this something a growing group of leaves orbiting around the child like a protective ring before taking a cackling human shape.
"Look look look, what has fate food delivery system delivered upon my doorstep, kakaka."
The leaves' shape became more and more humane until the leaves disappeared, replaced by a knee-long green tunic and wrinkled old skin sporting unkempt grey hair and adorned by an evil smile directed to a defenseless baby, asleep in the face of absolute danger.