Chapter 19 Chapter 19 The Old Hag
Chapter 19 Chapter 19 The Old Hag
The old hag watched him peer into the scrying veil, watching Syla from the pits of hell.
“She hated them from the very beginning, you know,” she croaked in hushed tones, as if afraid of who might hear her.
The demon child Shade slowly turned away from the veil. He moved closer to her, sitting at her withered feet.
“Tell me,” he asked. He didn’t remember much about his mother—only that she stared into the darkness beyond the veil for hours at a time, waiting for something he didn’t yet understand.
“I can do better than that, my child.”
She walked to the circle of ash. With a slow wave of her withered hand, time itself bent backward as Shade stepped closer to see.
A scene unfolded from the past.
Syla lay beside her mother, who rested on her deathbed, barely alive. The room was heavy with the scent of sickness and fading breath. Shade’s mother smiled. It was her envy—slow, patient, poisonous—that was killing her. She watched without flinching as Syla’s mother took her final breath.
“Now he will be mine at last,” Kayla growled softly, in hushed tones.
The vision shifted.
Rryan stood with Syla clutched tightly in his arms, wiping tears from his face as he struggled to remain strong. He tried to shield her from the pain flooding both their hearts, but grief seeped through him all the same.
In the days following the funeral, Kayla busied herself in William’s dreams.
Nightmare after nightmare tormented him. Each one was worse than the last. He woke drenched in sweat, heart racing, the same thought echoing through his mind again and again.
He had to get Syla away. Far away from that damned pyramid—and the demons that dwelled there.
Shade watched as William hurriedly packed their belongings onto a wagon he had purchased after selling the house. His movements were quick, almost desperate.
“Where are we going, Daddy?” little Syla asked. She was barely eight years old.
William lifted her and set her on the back of the wagon.
“I found a wonderful village not far from here,” he said gently. “It’s called Trykor. You’ll like it there. I even bought you a pony.”
Her face lit up, that beautiful smile breaking through the sadness.
“A pony?” she squealed, clapping her hands. “Hurry, Daddy—let’s go now!”
The journey was longer than she expected. Eventually, she fell asleep as William guided the reins of the two horses pulling the wagon. The road was poorly traveled, its deep ruts bearing witness to years of neglect.
Just after midnight, they arrived.
William carried Syla in his arms, kicking the door open. Dust billowed through the air, thick and heavy. After laying her gently on a broken sofa, he began unpacking the wagon, tidying as he went.
By daybreak, the space almost felt like home.
He cleared away the broken clutter, replacing it with their belongings. It wasn’t much—but it was theirs. Carefully, he carried Syla to her new room and tucked her into bed, warm and safe.
From the second-story window, he stared out at the pasture below. Her black and white spotted pony grazed quietly in the early morning light.
We could be happy here, and he’ll never find us. He thought..
Years passed as they settled in Syla had made many friends, and he loved his new job as Village Blacksmith, something he tinkered with since he was a small child. He reminded Syla over and over again that she must NEVER go near the pyramids, it would be very bad.
Until the day came when those monsters he had nightmares about came calling, they torched the whole village, screams filled the air, as they dragged him to their leader. He dismounted his horse; this was something he’d take great pleasure in. William had done something that he could never forgive: he had slept with his wife. The hatred that mounted was about to be justified in his eyes as he beat him beyond recognition. Then set him on fire as he laughed, riding away satisfied.
“Why did she hate them so deeply?” Shade asked, his voice low as the vision continued to writhe within the veil.
The old hag’s mouth twisted into something resembling a smile—thin, knowing, cruel.
“Hate?” she rasped. “No, child. Your mother felt contempt.”
She dragged a clawed finger through the ash.
“Kayla never believed in love. Love was beneath her. Love was weakness.”
Her eyes gleamed.
“She believed she owed him.”
The hag leaned closer, her breath foul and hot.
“Rryan was promised to Syla by fate itself. A bond sealed long before either of them drew breath. Your mother knew she could never touch his heart—so she set her sights on erasing the one who held it.”
A dry laugh rattled from her chest.
“If she could not have him, then no one would.”
The veil darkened, images trembling.
“She did not wish to take Syla’s place,” the hag whispered. “She wished to leave it empty.”
Her gaze slid to Shade, sharp and appraising.
“And in time, my child… You will understand this truth better than anyone