A long time ago, in a land far away. There was a small village, surrounded by woods. The woods provided for the village, in exchange the people were to never leave. But life was quiet and peaceful. And each year, they were expected to present a sacrifice. On the eve of the new year, a crow will perch on one of the houses. It would present a letter. And from that house, one of the members was to be given to the woods.
The letter would describe what was wanted of the woods, "A man of at least twenty five years. A woman who has recently given birth. And more." And this year, the crow perched on Oriol Brogan's house. He was the son of the local woodsman and was in apprenticeship to follow in his father's footsteps. But upon receiving the letter, his family gathered around for fear of who it would ask for.
His father opened the letter, slowly. They all feared it would ask for the youngest in the house. Little Tatiana was barely more than a year old. Not one member of the family spoke as Oriol's father Vilhelm opened the letter. He set the parchment down and read aloud.
The message was simple. "A boy, recently came of age."
There was a quiet relief that passed through the house. Tatiana was spared, but the letter instead described Oriol. The boy, having turned nineteen this year, was the most recent in the village to come of age.
The family turned to him, sorrow and guilt in their eyes. Oriol knew they felt bad for being relieved, but he understood. "It's okay," he told them, "I will be more than happy to lay my life in exchange for hers," he told them. But his heart hung heavy, as anyone's would. He wished it would have been someone else's house. But he knew there was no time for selfishness. He had until nightfall to present himself to the forest.
When the announcement was made, the village came to see him. To thank him for his sacrifice. To present him and his family with gifts and well wishes. But as time went on and the people returned to their homes. Night would fall soon but Vilhelm took him aside.
"Take this with you boy," he said as he put a hatchet in his hands. It was heavy in his hands but it was a weight he was one he was used to. He spent nearly all day swinging it with his father. "I'm not letting, this thing take someone from my family. Not without a fight. You take this with you. Find whatever is doing this, and kill it."
Oriol gripped the hatchet tightly. "Your sister may have been spared this year," Vilhelm continued. "But what about next year, or the year after? This stops now. I'm sorry to put this on you, boy. But the forest will only accept you tonight.
Oriol nodded solemnly. "I'll do it," he told his father. "I'll come back. I promise."
"Good boy," Vilhelm said before pulling his son into a hug for a long moment before letting go of him. "Now go, go before I make you stay."
Oriol pulled himself away from his father, taking the hatchet in hand and carrying the pack of supplies, he ran. He ran before he could have time to hesitate. He ran to the outskirts of his village, past the farm fields and to the very edge of where they were usually allowed to go.
He stopped before a wall of thick trees and bushes. He saw no way through, but as he stood there, the foliage opened a path for him. He hesitated but only for a moment before setting forward.
As soon as he was within the realm of the forest, the path behind him closed again. He did not stop to ponder it and forced himself onward. The forest was eerily quiet. No birds, no crickets or any other kind of animals could be heard. The path continued in a straight line onward. It did not turn or bend and the more he walked, the more it felt like he was making no progress.
By now, night had fallen, the light of the moon continued to show the path ahead of him still with no end in sight. He felt as if he were going mad. Finally he would come to a stop and turn to the nearest tree. He would carve his own path then as he hefted his hatchet and prepared to swing.
But then he heard something, a rustling of the bushes nearby. His body froze, he considered his options. He did not have long as a large vine lashed out from the brush at him.
Oriol turned and swung, the blade of his hatchet cutting through the vine as he suddenly started running. More vines reaching out for him as he ran, he did his best to cut through them but each one he cut gave rise to two more. They grabbed and pulled at him until they covered him completely. He couldn't see, couldn't move, could hardly breathe. Before long he fell unconscious.
He would wake when he felt himself being dumped upon a cold floor. He groaned, disoriented as he struggled to see where he was. It was dark, the floor beneath him was made of stone. He scrambled to find the hatchet where it had clattered to the floor. He could hardly see in this darkness but his hands eventually found the wooden handle.
He gripped it tightly and stood up, trying to see where he had been dropped. It wasn't long before he heard a voice that echoed off of the walls.
"It's about time," it was a woman's voice, "I was beginning to think you'd never get here. I had to send out my dear pets to retrieve you. Ones you went and hacked away at."
Without hesitating, he turned and swung his hatchet at the source of the sound, but before the blade could strike, he was halted by a bright light.
That light faded to a blue glow that illuminated the caster. A woman, a witch. She was dressed in snugly fit robes that were slit on the sides all the way up, showing off her legs, which were bare. Her face was partially obscured by a band that covered her eyes and a large hat that had many trinkets dangling from it.
From her extended hand a magical energy glowed, that same energy held his hatchet in place. No matter how hard he pulled he could not free it from where it was stuck in the air. For that matter he couldn't move at all.
"I don't remember saying you could bring this," she said, "Bad boy. But I suppose I do have to admire the attempt."
"I promised my family I'd kill you," Oriol managed to say through grit teeth.
"That's adorable," the witch responded. With a turn of her wrist and a snap of her fingers Oriol's hatchet suddenly disappeared. "Take a seat." Again she waved her hand to him and he was pushed back against the far wall, forced to sit on the floor.
"Who are you?" Oriol asked her.
"Yes I suppose introductions are in order," she said, "Officially the name is Ruby, but I think you'll be addressing me as "master" if you know what's good for you. "Go ahead, try it." She approached him as the magical light around her began to spread, illuminating more of the room around them.
"Why are you doing this to us? M-master?" The last word was practically pried from him by some unseen force. Try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from saying it.
She smiled and leaned down to pat his head lightly, "Good boy," she said with a chuckle.
"In truth I don't need to answer that but since I do need a little cooperation from you I'll compromise. Your little village is under my protection, and you being here now is my way of collecting tax. Same as any lord would. I have various needs here and there, most of which are test subjects for my spells and potions. You however, are a little different. See, I need something from you."
"And what would that be?" He asked.
"Your seed," she answered. "You'd be surprised how many of my spells and concoctions require the seed of man as a base ingredient. Not to mention I tend to grow bored and lonely here in my tower. So I'm killing two birds with a single stone here. You should be thankful. Behave and you'll find your stay here more pleasant than your predecessors."
