Ashkii Dighin- The Hunt for the Hypnotist

by Adam Lynch

  Ignoring her, Rolf got a good sniff of her, relishing in the scent of her fear. This had intrigued him long enough for Ashkii to ready shots for his back, one fired after another. After three shots, Kel pulled out the Knife of Embers and jabbed his neck consecutively, screaming “Die! Die! Why won’t you die?!”

  Enduring enough, Rolf shoved her off, pulling away. But then Ashkii shot his leg and then released another at his back. Desperate and injured, Rolf limped out of the forest on his good leg, fleeing to the good view of the moon. “Strength! Lord Salem! Brother! Lend me more strength!”

  But before he had retrieved his offering, Ashkii caught up with him, jabbing an arrow on his head, forcing him to the ground on his belly. The werewolf, too weak to move, was pinned there by Ashkii who held him down. To be certain of his submission, Ashkii jabbed his head with a second arrow. After this, Rolf barely moved a muscle. By then, Ashkii knew it was finally over.

  He glanced above him at the Moon of the Red Blood, and then around at the battlefield. He could no longer spot the nuckalavee—where had it gone? He saw Mystics, Spirit Hunters, Winteria’s rebel army, and now even Sun-Shields—all fighting in alliance against the Red-Bloods. However, in light of this advantage, the Red-Bloods were still somehow prevailing. Glancing up at the moon again, Ashkii noticed a vast amount of blood being drained from it, lending god-fearing strength to all those who shared Salem’s blood—the Red-Bloods. By clear observance, Salem’s army was most powerful at night when the moon was bright in the night sky. Clearly, this was strategically planned by Salem before he braced Springeria’s border in full force.

  “Kill him… Ashkii Dighin.” Pulling him from his thoughts, he heard Kel speak this suddenly, standing behind him. He turned around to face her. Her eyes were fixed with focused murderous intent—like she had been waiting for this one precise moment a long time.

  “Kill him,” she said again, emphasizing it. “Do it now.”

  “Lord… Salem…” Rolf grunted, too weak to even attempt to get up. He stretched out his hand as far as he could, digging in the dirt. Ashkii watched him, almost pitying his sad end. “My… my brother… why do I suddenly fear your end?”

  “Kill him, Ashkii!” she finally exclaimed, her voice like thunder.

  Curious with what Rolf said, Ashkii glanced a moment towards Salem and Chiharu. A victor was yet to be decided. It was a fight so legendary by witness that there was no doubt in Ashkii’s mind that it would be documented and remembered for all future generations. The two monarchs spared no second for the crowd to catch their breath—every witness gasping the entire run. And still, they hadn’t slowed down. The eldest of Season’s leaders and yet they looked and fought as if they were the youngest. Would this fight ever end? Would a victor ever be decided?

  “Kill him, Ashkii! The moon is lending him strength!”

  Having heard this, Ashkii no longer hesitated. Pulling out his last arrow, bellowing at the height his vocal chords had allowed, he skewered the beast with unreserved force. His eye of precision ensuring he hit his mark—and hit his mark he did.

  The life in Rolf’s eyes left him—Ashkii watched it fade like a spirit departing its vessel. Out came the excess, the blood of Salem leaking out of every hole in Rolf’s body. One minute there were two, the next, Ashkii was alone with a body.

  It was then that Ashii noticed again the mark of the Hypnotist tattooed to his neck. It glowed brighter than ever, vibrating, the sound of a bell chiming from it—notifying activation of a preset design. Ashkii had almost forgotten about this mark. He’d forgotten the consequences forewarned from Yce of his cursed death. It was said that his death would be exchanged for any number of lives within an unknown proximity of those who did not share Salem’s blood—their blood absorbed and given to the moon as a sacrifice.

  But then Ashkii remembered that the Hypnotist’s glowing mark had indicated that a curse placed on the being had had its design altered to a similar degree—the Hypnotist had hypnotized the original curse, essentially. Though it was true that this was only a theory—and a wild one at that—Kel had convinced him that it was more likely factual. Whichever the case may be, they were about to discover the truth.

  The mark rousing distant attention by its dramatic activation, Rolf’s body trembled violently. Ashkii stepped off immediately, accompanying Kel. He cast a second’s glance at her, her face lighter, relieved, color returning to her complexion. Ashkii felt just the opposite. The majority around him sharing his reaction, he’d wondered why Kel and his feelings were not in sync.

  Suddenly, Rolf’s lifeless body elevated to the air, all who witnessed it, petrified. The seizure continued, the blood inside him spilling everywhere. A mess of gore. A horror show. A zombie brought to life. The body trembled like a dangling puppet.

  Then it all stopped. The body stilled, spectators silent. Limbs stretched apart abruptly likes ropes pulled at each one. A brief pause. The body’s limbs pulled back, its torso pushed toward the moon. The mark on Rolf’s neck chimed louder, its light flickering out of control. The wolf’s jaw opened slowly, uttering a most unusual noise—its eyes faced to the moon. Another brief pause, all sound hushed.

  Then suddenly, in violent motion, the body sucked all of the blood from Salem’s moon like Season’s largest lake getting picked up by the wind. Such insanity seized the attention of all life present on the battlefield. Blood was sucked in the body so fast that it exploded from overfill—the spell yet lingering until every last drop of the moon was drained. In seven seconds time, Salem’s moon had lost its bright red glow. With all life removed and nothing left to fuel the regenerative spell, it died. What remained of the rocky sphere crumbled, its crumbs dissipating in the sky.

  Dumbfounded by the events unfolded, Ashkii swung his gaze toward Salem—whom he knew had counted on such a vessel to survive. Yce had once told him that the destruction of the moon would lead to the immortal king’s demise—and lead him there it did. With the moon removed, his blood with it, Salem lost his oxygen to breathe. His power swept from beneath his feet, he reached for the life that had forsaken him, his body suddenly aging to its proper year. He fell almost as swift as his power left him. His life—long overreached—expired instantaneously. He was but the dust on the ground—soon to decay. In barely a moment’s notice, Salem Valentine was no more. The eldest of his lineage suddenly a painting on history’s wall.

  Missing Memories

  The shock was so received by all that the fighting had stopped. Spirit Hunters, Red-Bloods, Sun Shields, Mystics, Chiharu Fantasia, and even Yce Glacis and the White-Bloods stood in awe of this sudden and most unexpected defeat. No one comprehended the events that had just taken place. Some were aware that the Red-Bloods and the immortal king had drawn their power from the moon as their source, but no one—not even Yce Glacis—had known how it was possible for it to be destroyed, stripping the Red-Bloods of their power and the king of his life. With Salem’s infinite blood supply now absent, the vampires would lose their youth, and the werewolves would lose their strength.

  With no understanding of what had happened, all eyes aimed for Rolf Valentine—the source of the moon’s destruction—and then to the one closest to him, the individual most likely responsible for his death and thus the bringer of everything that had transpired from there. It was the Spirit Gatherer. Most of everyone on the battlefield had heard the legends of the one known as the Spirit Gatherer. They had heard of the Spirit Bow’s mysterious power. Spotting him alive in proximity of the impenetrable werewolf that was said to be a time bomb, all conclusions were instantly made—many giving it no further thought. The Spirit Gatherer had done this. He had accomplished the impossible. Suddenly, all had greatly feared him.

  But Ashkii knew that it wasn’t him. Looking to Kelanassa, who seemed pleased with all that had happened, he knew that she alone shared his knowledge of the truth. It was the Hypnotist. This was the Hypnotist’s work—a redirection of the curse’s original design. Ashkii was simply the tool it had used
to complete the task.

  The witches and warlocks, suddenly realizing their vulnerability, fled the battlefield on their brooms as swiftly as flying grasshoppers.

  “Salem Valentine...” whimpered a Sister of the Red Blood coven. “The Spirit Gatherer has yet taken another child from us...” At this, the six sisters dispersed in a hoard of bats that had suddenly flung in to their rescue—lifting them off. The vampire and werewolves that remained, suddenly conscious of their kingdom’s retreat, embraced efforts to do the same.

  “White-Bloods!” shouted Yce Glacis from a hill suddenly, lifting his sword in the air. “Our night has finally come! Kill the Red-Bloods. Cleanse the corruption. Let not a single one who carries Salem’s blood live. Slay them all!”

  Empowered by the smell of victory, the rebels thundered the field with their battle cry. They stormed the Red-Bloods, striking their backs as they attempted flight. The joy contagious, the alliances joined in the slaughter. No longer having strength to draw from, the Red-Bloods fell one after another like fish in contaminated water. One hack of the sword was all that was necessary. Weak, shriveled, and drained from the blood that had regulated their bodies, they were helpless. The battle was taking a very swift turnaround.

  But Ashkii, having done the task written in the pirate’s species log, waited for the curse of the Kiren to break. Fixing his gaze on Rolf’s body, he awaited his reward for avenging the deceased. Then suddenly—it began. The chain wrapped around Rolf’s neck became as brittle as a dead branch. Ashkii snapped it from the body’s neck, retrieving the glowing stone. Kel, fascinated by its bright luminous glow, peered over Ashkii’s shoulder as he held it in the palm of his hand. He fixed his gaze on the green stone, awaiting its compass to display. But instead it shattered, its pieces falling to the ground, its blood rising towards freedom in the sky. Ashkii, manically perplexed, looked around him. Suddenly, a gas emerged from the pieces that shattered. Kel fell to the ground unconscious. And Ashkii, before awareness caught up to him, joined her shortly after.

  ○

  Ashkii saw one of Autumnum’s largest villages far north near Winteria. There lived the Caribou Clan—their Spirit Animal being the caribou with tree-like antlers. Its family was abundant, yet they lived modestly in tepees, grass houses, and a single longhouse made of Autumn’s colored leaves. Peace in Seasons allowed the clans of Autumnum to live independently mostly, the exception being that all clans offered a share of whatever was abundant in their territories to Autumnum, that all clans might prosper and remain unified. The Caribou Clan offered meat and animal skins since game was common in their territory.

  The clan was far removed from all other villages in Autumnum, thus they practiced taboos forbidden to the kingdom’s tribe—all led initially by the clan’s chief. Distant from the civilized influence of their peers, the Caribou Clan became desensitized by their own created culture. They not only worshiped their Spirit Animal (as all the other clans did), but believed it had demanded all the meat that they had gathered as its sacrifice. The Caribou Clan burned the tied animals alive. They were fried to a crisp before their god. Eradicating their only food supply, this led to widespread starvation among the family clan. This created hallucination, confusion, and blinding submission. One night the chief acted on an order that he had believed his god had told him to do. He killed all six of his children, eating two of them before arriving at the realization that his god had provided his clan the answer to their famine problem.

  He gathered the clan in one place. He announced that their god had finally given them food to eat, demonstrating this by eating another one of his children before them. This led to widespread madness in the village. Relatives killed their children, eating them. The ones who had no children, killed other relatives in their household, eating them instead.

  Then Ashkii saw a young boy sleeping helplessly in his tepee—famine keeping him from awakening. His parents, immensely disillusioned, forgot that they even had a son, eating another household’s son instead. And so, the young boy was the only child to survive that night—along with half of the clan’s strongest relatives. The ones who had lived fell to the floor unconscious, sick and exhausted.

  Then, early morning of the next day, the child awoke coughing to find his home submerged in flames. Terrified, he fled from the tepee before it collapsed in its entirety. Panting heavily, he looked around and saw his entire village roused in flames. Many relatives he once knew littered the ground, skewered by spears, bodies torn open like someone or something had dug in their flesh. Panicked, he sprinted across the village, searching for anybody to help. Then he arrived at a scene of six screaming relatives, fighting to keep off a monster that had jumped out of the chief’s longhouse. The boy could hardly look at the monster—it was the most horrifying thing he had ever laid eyes on. But then the boy saw something far worse than his worst nightmare. The monster shattered through their defense like cracking sticks, ripping limbs off their torsos, tearing open their flesh, digging into them, causing blood to pour out their bodies like a flood. Making quick work of them, the monster set its sights for the boy. Terrified, the boy fled for his life, never looking back. Flames, bodies, and debris blocked many of the paths. He couldn’t use familiarity to guide him. In fact, he could hardly see at all. He sprinted wherever the path was open, the monster quick on his tail. This led him to a red river, full of blood and bodies of his relatives. Terrified to proceed, he looked back and there stood the monster. It swung its elderly, ghastly arm at the boy, tripping him to fall in the red river. With the current strong, he struggled to keep afloat. With all his might he swam for the banks, but he was too weak. The river carried him to the edge of his small world. Screaming louder than he ever had in his life, the river pulled his body over the falls.

  The Bliss of Ignorance

  Ashkii, wake up,” urged a familiar voice suddenly. “Wake up, it’s just a nightmare. It isn’t real.”

  His eyes opened, revealing a blurry face, like rain on a glass window. He awoke drenched in tears, looking around, confused. Remembering his dream like a vivid memory, his eyes peeled, his breaths heavy again. Exhales evolved to hyper ventilation, escalating his body into a panic. He hugged his legs, sniveling, condensing this overbearing world.

  “It’s okay… Ashkii,” she said, clinging to him, hugging him tight. “I’m right here. I’m right here with you. You’re not alone. I’m always here to take care of you.”

  Falling into the realm of his own despair like no one was there, everything came loose. Having lost all control, he released. He let the weight of his burden fall to the one who carried him. The one who empathized with him so deeply it was as if she shared the same heart. But how could she understand? She didn’t know anything about him. She didn’t know what he’d been through. He didn’t even know himself.

  Yet, she was here.

  His tongue numb to speech, he gazed at her, perplexed as she caressed him. He didn’t know how he should feel about this. He’d never felt it before. But Kel read his puzzled state, welcoming his inquiry. When it never came, she helped him. “Tell me, Ashkii. What ails you?”

  His eyes fell to the ground in thinking up his answer. He pulled himself together, gathering his thoughts. His head felt light, warm... drugged. Yet he felt at ease, relieved, more comfortable. Something made him feel more confident to speak the truth without reserve—without fear. It was odd, like his mind had been made more clear.

  “It wasn’t a nightmare,” he said, reuniting his glance with hers. “I saw something I couldn’t remember. Something I had long forgotten.”

  “You saw your past.”

  Ashkii flinched, surprised she pulled the words right out of his mouth.

  “I understand.” She turned his chin toward hers, ensuring they had eye contact. “I know. I went through the same thing.”

  “How could you know?”

  “You spoke of it in your sleep. That’s why human relationships and wendigos make you so anxious, isn’t it?”

>   His eyes wandered, the pain cutting too deep. He shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I’ve stewarded myself all these years—alone—and I could never remember one thing of who I was or where I came from. It frustrated me, but also conjured pain when I attempted recovering these memories. One day I decided I didn’t want to know anymore. Whatever it was, I knew I was probably better not knowing.”

  “Do you regret knowing now?”

  He hesitated a moment before turning to her. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you wish you could forget it?”

  His gaze wandered again, reserving time to gather an answer. Then he shook his head, suddenly gathering consciousness of his intoxication. “I don’t know—maybe. Why am I even telling you all this?”

  She wrapped her hands around his cheeks, crossing the boundary line of touching lips. “It’s okay, Ashkii,” she whispered softly, her voice and stunning complexion tranquilizing his defenses back to sleep. “You can tell me anything. You won’t lose me like everyone else. I’m here with you. I’ll always be here. I’ll protect you. I love you.”

  Her last words paralyzed him, all other thoughts white washed. “What? You—that word… I...”

  “Yes,” she said excitedly, her eyes escalating his heart beat. “I love you. If I could ever feel something for someone again, I’d feel it for you.” She waited for his reaction, but his mind was too clouded with anxiety. “Ashkii. I’ve opened myself to you. Would you open yourself to me?”

  “I...” he hesitated. “I don’t know how...”

  “Trust me.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “Let me lead the way. Release your burdens and I’ll carry them for you.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “Because, Ashkii. I love you.”

  He needed that to sink in a moment, his eyes reflecting hers. “What does it mean—to love someone?”