- Whispers and Wonders: Sins of Old, Sins of New

The night was still young, cold, and full of fear lying in wait behind the darkness that cloaked Father Forest in a blanket of the night. Stars dotted the sky, light poured from the moon's angelic glow. The trees stood like pillars of wood made of stone, ever brilliant and majestic in the night air, ever watching the three shadows that traveled through the night like silent watchmen, bouncing around the angelic glow of the open moon.

Their feet carried them swiftly, their silence melting and molding with the forest's breath, like a cool chill that gave you goosebumps.

Their shadows danced like dancers against a flame, beautiful, simple, quick, and flowing like a river down a calm bank. They didn't struggle to make their way through the woods, as they morphed and reformed around different trees, brush, rocks and other various things that obstructed their way.

They were like shadows that never stopped, never halted, nor faltered when faced with a challenge. They had a mission, and they were moving as swiftly as if the wind was behind them. They were forest people.

They were one with Father Forest.

And they were coming.

As fast as his breath would carry them.

***

A torch pierced the night's dark and ever open arms of grace, the heat from the fire bringing a subtle warmth to his cold fingers, to the darkness' cold touch.

The torch chased away the blindness around them, the two guards who patrolled the outer rim of the Manor's land, small clusters of trees and bushes, the only thing they had to fear. The trees loomed over them, Father Forest still present even in his far distant children. He watched them like a hawk watched his prey.

The two guards chatted away, flinging their torches left and right, chasing away the shadows, dying the surroundings in a bright and warm glow of yellow and red. Their sight returned to them, and with each passing shadow chased away by their torchlight, the better their fears were quelled deep within them.

They were watchers themselves, patrolling their outer rim, far from the Manor's bright lights, warm glowing fire, and heat that seemed to reach out even to the edge of their land, where Father Forest chased it away with his cold touch.

But they were not alone. Their fears were well recognized as they watched the shadows run away in fear, not of them, but of the ones Father Forest protected with his grasp. He would keep his warm and breathing children safe, behind the trees of his looming reach.

As the guards made their way past, Father Forest cloaked his children, his friends in a deep and dark shadow. To the guards it looked only as though the flame from the torch had cast a deeper shadow behind the tree.

Their obliviousness allowed three moving blurs and figures to make their way past them as they continued on chatting amongst themselves about an incident that happened within the cellars that very evening.

Shadows and blurs that moved with figure, form and purpose. It had been nearly 24 hours since these shadows had returned, but they knew they would not be welcomed by the masters, words having been spoken, lies told recklessly, and false truths given with no merit.

The masters would not welcome them. For if they knew of these shadows on their doorstep, they would shun them, cast them away like the dirt underneath their boot.

They had asked too many questions, the truth threatened to be unveiled before their eyes, left with them in the moon's glow, the sun's warm rays of lies and deceit. They would be discovered, their lies unearthed.

They feared such a future, and thus, they would have chased these shadows away hoping the truth would never be uncovered, revealed, or seen by the naked eye.

But these shadows knew they were not welcomed, knew they were not here to speak kind words of sympathy, apologies, nor words of trust. They were not here to listen to harsh lies and false truths, as the masters cast them out.

No. They were here to learn of their own truths, find their own path through the fog of deceit. They were smart, quick, and were willing to do what most others shunned. They were of the Forest people, and found their home within the woods.

They would not be here for long.

They would come.

And they would leave with the answers they wanted to know.

***

Winlsow walked the empty halls, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he knew would happen soon. He knew of what the Endless knew, he knew of what they came to find, and he knew of where they came from, where their questions were answered.

He knew what would come, who would come, and where their strings led to.

Voln.

He remembered clearly the night before, how he watched the moon's rays paint the land before him, the gardens surrounding the Manor with a pale and glowing light. And there he knew he could see it.

His old friend.

The groundskeeper.

Daniel Green.

He could see vividly now, the night they drank together with Saul, beer and whiskey in their hands. How they laughed, how they squabbled and argued, how they cared for one another like brothers.

He could see in that pale light, how young Voln had laughed and ran with his father, through the woods he knew now all too well, through the gardens his father made, scaring his hands with thorns and roots.

He remembered the face of Voln as he went to their lonely cabin in the woods, now overrun with trees and vines, long forsaken. He remembered seeing his tears pour from the boy's face, eyes weeping like a hailing thunder storm.

Winslow hated himself that day, as he and Saul dragged the boy from his dead father's body, the mother nowhere to be seen, and placed him in a house where he knew blood would one day be split.

It didn't matter if it was just someone else, or if it was Voln's himself, as he woke up from the nightmares night after night of seeing the boy hiding from the archway, a rope around his neck.

Those dreams haunted him, like a demon playing with his emotions. A demon just waiting for the day he would succumb to those dreams, those nightmares.

The day his own blood would spill for the sins he has committed.

Winlsow remembered the days he would watch as bodies were carried away, sings of agonizing torture and death plastered across the skin of men and women he trained in this very Manor, being carried away. How he was forced to turn a blind eye, knowing who did this, knowing who was the dog hired to kill.

He had warned Lia of this very same man, the man used to do the dirty work in the Manor.

Keep people quiet. Keep people in line.

Keep people sane when thoughts of death loomed over them.

He was the latter. A man responsible for keeping his employees, his butlers, his maids, all in line for the masters, and their horrid friends.

He remembered the days parties and balls were held inside the Manor, how maids were taken away at night, often never seen again until the next morning, their eyes wet with tears.

He remembered the days butlers would be found in the forest wood, dead or worse, still living with the scars they held onto them, like a blanket of reminder that tortured them inside until they took themselves out alone into the woods, never to return.

Winlsow knew he should be dead.

He wished for death more than anyone else.

He had done his best to keep himself sane, keep himself going, keep the people around him safe, but despite all this, he failed every night, every day, every evening he was forced to carry away another body.

There was a reason the Dorrows waited in the forest, so far from towns and civilization. They were mad, pompous and arrogant.

But even so, Winslow reminded himself that it wasn't the master's fault he was the way he was. Winlow could remember the days he was still in his youth as a butler, first learning under his predecessor, someone who the stress of the job took from him too much, and stole him away from Winslow to early. He was reminded of the days he would treat the young Clark, his bruises and cuts plastered all over his face, like small little apples.

A gift from his 'oh so gracious' father. A man who cared only for perfection, and nothing less. It was the reason he liked Daniel so much, he always worked hard, and even when his work wasn't perfect, Clark's father didn't care. He knew the man worked hard, and thus, rewarded him based on those efforts.

His son however, Clark, was lazy, always playing, never doing what he was supposed to do. Perhaps if Winslow had done something for the boy, he wouldn't have turned out so cold and manipulative as he was now, hiding behind his mask with a smile, as the world passed him by in his years.

Just another thing Winlsow tallied on his many sins in this house. He knew that when Endless came for him, questions on their mind, he would be forced to set things into motion. The dominoes already in place, ready to be turned over one by one.

He was ready, but he was still afraid.

What would happen to Voln. The boy who had still vividly appeared in his mind with such an innocent smile, while the rest of the world frowned at him for smiling.

What would happen?

Would he change? Would this real world kill him inside?

'No.'

Winslow shook his head, reminding himself that it wasn't in his right to question or worry what Voln would do with his life now. All that mastered to him was that this Manor, this world around him hiding behind Father Forests mountains, woods, and shadows, would burn.

Burn and paint the world around them in a bright and warm glow.

Burn it all to the ground.

…and him with it. For the sins he had committed.

He knew it wouldn't undo the things he had done. He knew it wouldn't offer him some form of forgiveness, nor would it offer him any kindness in the end.

The fire would scorch him like a burning flowing, searing the skin, melting the flesh, and in the end, it would be the most painful death he could imagine.

Saul he knew would make it out, too preoccupied by saving everyone to remember him. He had made sure of it. It was within Saul's character to keep people safe. But when he would go looking for Winslow, the old man wouldn't be there.

'A painful death, for my painful sins.'

It was what he believed he deserved.

Even as he walked through the empty halls, having ordered all maids, butlers, guards and others to stay clear of the south wing, he knew it would be a while before he saw his end.

He deserved one, as much as he didn't deserve to be forgiven.

A blind eye was as good as a dead one. Especially when he turned it away from the dead who were carried from this hellish place.

The Scholar's Chapel had rooted itself deep in this place, even so that the masters turned their eyes away from the things they did.

They needed to be gone, uprooted from the earth they latched onto. He had set it all in motion, and was willing to keep it going all the way until the end.

'Let them come.'

He told himself.

'Let the Endless come. In shadows, in rain, in pouring thunder - mirrors of my pain.'

He stopped, his feet automatic as his senses turned to the surrounding halls, the moon's glow bathing him in a pale light, cold and unwavering.

'Let them come.'

He glanced up, eyes unwavering, empty of all emotion as he readied himself.

'They won't remember me. They won't know who I am. They won't know the man who set this hell ablaze in a brilliant fire light, bathing the mountains red and white.'

They won't know him. They wouldn't remember him. Just the way he wanted.

His cold and emotionless eyes met the shadowy figure of one woman, her body cloaked in darkness that melded to her skin.

The only color to her, was her red and crimson eyes that broke through that darkness with an unsettling look of emptiness.

He was ready.

He had been waiting.

"Welcome back. Endless."

***

Voln watched the fire pop and burn, wood turning to ash and embers before his eyes. The fire had grown in the past few minutes since the group of Hunters had left his camp. Endless they had called themselves, and yet his mind seemed to waver every time he looked into their leaders eyes.

Her red, crimson eyes filled with fire he could never match.

She was like him, looked like him, acted like him. She knew more about him than even he knew about himself. Yet, her mind was so empty to the answers he had, only the questions she knew filled her mind.

Voln watched, the fire rising like it had been from the past few minutes, his mind wandering to the distant heights of the mountains and their peaks.

Malkova watched him from her seat, her heart beating with worry and an unmistakable fear. She too watched the fire, knowing who was causing the flames to rise, as they reacted well to his presence.

His eyes were still in her mind, so much like the woman she had seen speaking with Voln, the man she loved more than her own being. But that girl - Lia - scared her. She reminded Malkova of a memory she wanted to forget, the unsettling fear that weighed her down, like a chain that held on to her very soul.

In the end, after the flames finally died back down to their normal height, Malkova turned to face the man she knew stood beside her, cloaked in the forest's darkness, only his eyes piercing the night's cloaked shadow like two flames that burned forever in the dark.

Malkova didn't need to shift Voln's attention, the same fear she was feeling prickling his skin, though he did best to hide it, as his eyes shifted upward to face the red glowing and flaming eyes in the dark.

"You're him. Cain."

Cain said nothing, his eyes simply watching them. Observing the boy who sat before him, like death approaching his victim.

The silence that fell around them was so strong, it keep even Father Forest at bay, his own fear keeping him far from his fiery sight.

No animal made a sound, no man spoke, and no tree resulted in the wind.

Voln watched him with unsettling eyes, but as the seconds passed feeling like hours going by, Voln was forced to find his own eyes and courage wavering.

The silence…

…it was unnatural.

It scared him.

Finally, breaking the silence and spiking the fear resting in their souls like demons in waiting, Cain made a sound.

There was no voice.

Only his footsteps.

As he made his appearance known.