A Dark Winter Tales

The winds blew cold on the mountains, as they always did in winter. The four of them walked close to each other, huddled in their warm coat of fur. Gavin walked in front, holding a torch high above his head. Even with this light, he could barely see the path laid before him, covered with a thick carpet of snow. He was a tall man, taller than his companions, yet he had to walk knee deep in the white powder. The cold pierced both clothes and skin, making him shake to the bone. He doubted he would ever see the sun again, as he slowly advanced into the sinister forest that surrounded the castle.

"We have been walking around for hours," said Abigail with a trembling voice. "Are you sure you are leading us in the right direction?" Abigail was young and frail. She was not used to the danger of her duty. She had still much to learn.

"Yes," answered Gavin confidently. He had used his compass to guide himself and his crew, and his compass had never been wrong before. However, he was still scared, but he showed nothing of it. His companions looked upon him as a leader, although their true leader was long dead.

The trees around them seemed to grow larger and darker as the progressed. Gavin looked up, hoping to see the silhouette of the castle poking through the grey clouds, but there was nothing. There always was nothing.

"They will think we are dead," said Thomas. "They might not wait for us." Optimism had never been Thomas' strong suit. He was a brave and strong soldier, but he did not know how to maintain the morale of his troop.

"They won't have a choice but to wait for us," snapped Gavin. "At best there are a dozen of them at Twilight's Keep, and it won't be enough if they expect to survive their journey through the mountains."

It was true that the land was dangerous. Strange creatures ran through the woods. Ghosts, vampires, demons, weavers, crawlers, werewolves, witches and much more roamed at night and attacked unfortunate (or rather foolish) travellers. It had been the Night's Vigilantes duty to fend off the evil, as the king and his soldiers were cowards, too scared to even enter the Edge Woods. Gavin had been part of the Night's Vigilantes for above a decade. He had mastered every skilled required to fight the creatures of these lands. He might have slain hundreds of them. Yet, there were always more, and they were more cruel and bloodthirsty than the ones that came before them.

"We should stop to light a fire," said Rose. "We are tired and it is only a matter of time before some creature finds us. A fire will keep them at bay." Rose spoke wisely, as always. She was a scholar of the Citadel who came to the Night's Vigilantes to share her knowledge to protect the realm.

Gavin knew they would have to take a break soon. He was tired and so were his companions. However, the snow storm was not about to cease, and they had to make as much progress as possible before they died to the cold. He encouraged everyone to persevere. He promised they would only walk for one more hour.

Nobody protested, thankfully, although none of them must have been happy. Gavin convinced himself he was doing the right thing. But was there really a right thing to do? Weren't they most likely to die here in the woods anyway?

They heard something wailing in the distance. It was close, too close. "Keep an eye on the trees," he warned his troop. "We are not alone." They walked faster, though the heavy snow was making it hard. It was always hard to judge what was the best approach when danger closed in. Sometimes, running was the only option, but sometimes, standing still was the best option, as some creatures could only see movement. Those were rare, however, so most of the time, it was better to simply run.

The four of them followed the path as quickly as they could, but their pace slowed down all the same. It was late at night, the chill reached them to the bones. They couldn't continue any longer. As they were about to give up and fight whatever was trailing them, they came to a clearing where they found an altar. They climbed onto the stone ring that circled it and fell out of exhaustion and relief. Altars were a rare but welcomed sight in these dark woods. They were known to keep the evil at bay.

"We shall rest here for the night," said Gavin. "We will figure out our way in the morrow."

They dropped their bags and the few things they contained. They still had food, but it was cold and hard and they had to only take one bite each so that there would be some left for tomorrow. Gavin lay on his back and closed his eyes, his stomach still rumbling. If they were lucky, they could slay a beast in the morning that they could eat.

Thomas exited the ring to gather wood to make a fire. A fire would not prevent more the monsters from approaching, but a bit of warmth would be nice. Rose and Abigail watched the woods to warn their friend if a creature ever came close. Fortunately, the saw none, though more sinister screams could be heard in the distance.

None of them slept well, even with the bit of warmth they had. They dreamed of monsters and blood and death. The Old Folk claimed there was a curse in the woods, preventing sleepers from dreaming anything but nightmares, and they might have been right.

When morning came, the sun did not shine. The sky was only slightly brighter to indicate that day had come. On the other hand, by some fortune, the violent storm of yesterday at ceased. Gavin went out to explore the path. He found the path they had come from and four new branching points, leading in various directions. He tried to see where each led, but the snow was too thick and there was no information to be gathered.

"Which way is the right way?" asked Abigail. "Where is the castle?"

Gavin was sitting down on the stone, rubbing his chin with one hand, looking down at his compass. Its point oscillated toward the North, then the South, then the East, then the North again. It could not settle to any direction. "Unfortunately, I do not know which way we must take," he admitted. "We have to go West, but my compass his broken and it seems impossible to guess in which direction the sun is in the sky. We must resort to other ways."

Abigail let out a moan of despair. Rose put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We may wait for the sun to come back," she said lightly. "When it will shine, it shall show us the way."

Thomas snorted. "How do you know the sun will come back?" he sneered. "It might take days, or weeks. We have to get moving now, or else we will die here. Even if no creature can get to us, hunger and frost will surely be the end of us."

The three of them started to argue. They talked over each other, engaging in a discussion that led nowhere. Gavin angrily rose up. "Silence, all of you!" he commanded. "I won't let anyone die under my watch. We will return to the castle as soon as we can. However, we need to find indications of where the castle is. There are four paths we may take, as I think I remember where we came from, though I don't know if that was already the right way forward, and there are four of us. We should each explore our own path. Altars are usually found near main roads, so it should not be long before one of us finds something. We shall meet here again at dusk. I any of you feel they are in any sort of danger, you might come back sooner. We will share what we have found and chose the right way forward."

His troop agreed with little conviction. Gavin took the lead by choosing one of the paths. He hoped he was doing things right. Going alone on a road was never a good idea, but what choice did they have? He walked for hours. No wind slowed him down, only the snow that fell on the previous day, but he still felt like he needed to be faster. He found no clue, no sign of life. He would have given anything to find a simple shed, or another living soul.

Despair was settling in, but he refused to give in. He was cold, but he ignored the pain. He rubbed his hands together, kept on walking. Were the others safe? He felt responsible for their safety. He was the only one to guide them, now that their captain was dead. A ghoul had killed him at night on a tragic night. A hoard of them had attacked, all at once, and showed no mercy. Captain Aaron had fought hard, but there had been too many. Gavin himself had barely made it out in one piece.

At some point, the vigilante came across a small lake, a frozen pond that stood in the middle of the road. He found it weird and thought about going back, there seemed to be a pile of something, maybe wood, on the other side of it. A human must have made it. He had to find out who, and contact them.

Gavin took a hesitant step on the ice that covered the pond. The thin layer of ice immediately cracked under his boot. That had to be bad. He tried thinking of a way to get around the pond, but he really didn't want to go through the wood. It would be suicide, as some creature would be waiting there to snap his neck. He had no choice but to cross. To give himself a chance, he lay flat on his stomach to spread his weight above the ice. He would be, however, vulnerable if a monster tried to attack him. He tried to reassure himself, as it was day, and very few monsters dared to attack during the day.

He crawled slowly, sliding on the frozen water. He could see water forming where his breath landed and he felt like the ice would break under him at any given moment. He stayed calm, using his hands to pull and his feet to push himself forward. He made slow but steady progress. Soon, he was halfway through the pond. He gained confidence and went faster.

But as soon as he did, he felt the ice crack and he suddenly fell in the glacial waters. He flapped his arms and reached the surface, panicking. Then, he stood on his knees with water up to his belt, as he realized that there was not as much water as he thought. Nonetheless, he was soaked and his clothes would soon be freezing. He had to make a fire soon to warm his clothes, or else he would probably die within hours.

Gavin painfully got back on his feet, still standing in the middle of the pond, and he saw small waves run on the water. It did not come from him. He took a step back and drew his sword. The water suddenly raised and a dark silhouette appeared from beneath the waves. It was a woman. She was slender, with long dark hair and dark eyes that penetrated the soul. Her skin was smooth and pale like snow. Her cheeks and her waist were thin. She had a large smile and she showed short rotting teeth. She was a witch, the vigilante guessed, as he swung his sword fiercely.

The woman did not budge. The blade went right through her, meeting no resistance, like a hot knife through hot butter. But then, she did not fall. She did not stir at all. She just kept smiling, and her grin seemed to grow more evil. She was not a witch, but a ghost. Ghosts were weak to magic, but Gavin knew to magic. He was powerless against the creature before him. Rose would have defeated the woman with no difficulty, but he had left her behind.

So there was only one option for him. To run. He tried to get out of the pond quickly, but the weight of his wet, freezing clothes slowed him down and, suddenly, an arm of water grabbed his ankle and he fell in the tide, humiliated. All warmth exited his body. A hand then seized his neck and pulled him out of the water. He was now back on his feet, but with no energy to fight back the creature that was still smiling at him with rotten teeth.

"A wonderful gift I have been offered," said the ghost in a soft voice that reminded Gavin of his mother's. "Long I have waited for a man to meet me in this strange place. I feel... happiness." The ghost proceeded to circle her prey, floating around him, her motionless feet an inch above the water, to scrutinize him, laughing all the while. "Beautiful, you are."

Gavin clenched his jaw. He was not ready to give up so soon. Fighting would do nothing, but he could buy time. He could distract the woman. He knew that ghosts were souls bound to the Earth because of unfulfilled vows, so he asked the woman, "What have befell of you that you are trapped in this place?"

The ghost stopped swirling around and her smile became an expression of sadness. "My father was a cruel man," she said, tears of ink rolling down her hollow cheeks. "To satisfy him was impossible. Good deeds were not acknowledged and small mistakes were harshly punished. I could never meet his requirements and expectations. I was one day exiled, only to return as a proper lady. As proof of my deeds, I had to carry a child from a man who would love me. Centuries, it has been, yet I am still searching. Or I was."

Gavin tried to walk away as she spoke, but already the ice was making his clothes stiff and it became hard for him to move. The ghost approached slowly. Her black tears had frozen on her chin. She smiled once more. "Give yourself to me," she pleaded in a whisper.

He tried to push her away, but his stiff arms passed right through her body. She laughed. "You can't," she said before she embraced him in a hug. He stood still, his warm heart thumping loudly in his chest. He could feel her arms wrapping around him, somehow. Her chest pressed against his, she put her head on his shoulder. Their cheeks briefly touched. He shivered, as she was as cold as death itself. There was nothing to be done as she rose her head and planted a kiss on his lips.

Kissing a ghost was the last thing the vigilante could have expected to happen in his life. He was paralyzed, unable to fight back. The ghost glacial lips tasted his, sucking the warmth out of his body. He became numb. He was giving in. Then, she broke the kiss and looked at him with sad eyes. "Not like this," she murmured.

The ghost touched Gavin's chest with her frail hand. Her fingers brushed lightly his leather armor, then went through it and felt the skin beneath it. The man trembled and freezing tears reached the corner of his eyes. The white hand then brushed through the skin itself and, in a horrible fashion, reached for the vigilante's heart itself. She took the pumping organ in her hand, felt it. He could have died. Would have. But did not. The cold reached inside his heart, then ran through his veins. He became one with the cold. Was he dead? No, he could still think. Then what was happening?

The woman took her hand out of his chest. She gave him another kiss. This time, pushed by some mysterious force he had no hold on, he kissed her back. "That's better," she said in her faint beautiful voice. They kissed with cold passion, in the middle of the road, knee deep in a pond of water. What did it matter? Gavin knew he would die soon regardless. He could feel it. The grip of death.

The woman did not rush. She sucked on his lips with patience, tasting every inch of skin before she used her tongue to probe deeper. Her tongue swirled around his leisurely. She moaned softly in his mouth. He had not known that ghosts could feel such pleasure. Or was it all a trick?

Gavin raised his hands and gently brushed the ghost's hollow white cheeks. He was not the one in control. He only watched himself as she made him kiss her with powerful energy. Her tongue, he thought, tasted of cold milk. How unusual. He savored it, as he had no choice.

"I had been waiting... for so long," sighed the ghost as she pulled off. "You are mine."

She then used her slender fingers to calmly grab Gavin's black cloak and let it gently fall in the water. She continued by removing the leather armor, which she took time to detach. After a few long minutes, the soldier ended up completely naked. The harsh winter cold tortured him even more than it had already been but, once again, it did not matter.

She caressed his muscular body, sculpted from ice and many years of training and fighting. She seemed fascinated. She pinched him and tickled him, smiling like a child all the while. She dropped a few cold kisses on his chest, on his arms, on his stomach. She then found his flaccid dick, which she took in her hands like it was some precious treasure. She stroke with great care, watching it grow with amazement. Her stark and thin fingers both created pain and pleasure. The strokes were expert, though it probably was by accident.

His cock soon reached his full length. It was not enormous, but still decent. The ghost gave it a cute kiss, then floated back up. Her clothes started to fade away. They disappeared like mist in the morning. She was stark naked too. Her chest and waist were slim, bones visible through her delicate flesh. She approached and pressed her chest against his. So cold, still. Her nipples were erect, crushing him, trying to pierce his skin. She rocked her hips against his in an erotic fashion. "You are one lucky man," she whispered. "You will soon make me free." She took his cock in her hand and guided it toward her entrance.

Gavin thought he would lose consciousness. Their bodies made one. He could not tell her apart from him. She controlled him as much as she controlled herself. She bounced up and down on his length, her voice lowly grumbling. The vigilante, like a statue, did not move an inch, but he still felt powerfully everything that was done to him. He felt the ghost's fingers grab his shoulders, running along his back, her fingers scratching his stiff skin. As she rocked on his cock, one of her hands suddenly went through his body and she only gained back control when she reached the bone. Gavin breathed heavily as one of the ghost's hand was resting on his shoulder, the other on his clavicle.

The woman bounced higher on his cock, grinding all of his length with talent. She kissed him again, inserting her tongue in her mouth. Milk, he thought, as he was forced to kiss back. Then, the ghost's whole body violently trembled. She moaned in delight, her arms squeezing hard around and inside his body.

With the remaining of his vital energy, Gavin was drawn to grab the ghost's tiny waist, which he could almost encircle with his two hands, and to buckle his hips and fuck her like he would a normal girl on a bed in a castle. The wind rose brutally as he fucked her like a doll. As he did so, he felt himself dying. Some could have imagined worse way to go than to die having forced sex with a ghost, but he was ashamed and humiliated that his will was not strong enough to fight back. He continued to fuck the ghost who was now screaming like she was the one dying.

Gavin's body thrashed, and he felt release. The woman dropped new tears of ink as her spectral womb fas finally filled with seed. Her body magically passed through his dick and she slowly fell in the water. As she did so, her body slowly decayed, like dust blown away by the roaring wind. Her skin was disintegrated in millions of particles as her spirit was released, now that she had completed her vow.

Gavin slowly gained back control over his own body. The winter's cold immediately entered him like a giant spear and broke his bones. He shivered greatly, the ice inside of him melting and dripping. With great effort, he pulled himself from the frozen pond. He grabbed his clothes and put them back on. He had to get back to the altar before nightfall. He took a painful step, then another. The Gods had spared his life for now, but how long could he carry on? He prayed for his survival as snow began to fall again.