Megrin and the Shadow Mass

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The night was unusually quiet as Megrin entered the forest. His cloak brushed the undergrowth barely audibly, and the flame of his locket glowed beneath his hood like a heartbeat. He had already heard the whispering in the village: some residents were secretly disappearing, following candlelight into the depths of the forest. The next day, they were changed, their eyes glazed over, as if a part of themselves had been lost. The further he walked, the thicker the air became. A scent of cold wax and damp earth hung in the branches. Finally, he reached a clearing. There, the villagers stood in a circle, an altar made of roughly hewn tree trunks in the center. Black candles burned, their smoke twisting into figures that seemed like distorted reflections of those present. The crowd hummed a litany, wordless but full of longing. Megrin stepped out of the shadows. "You call out what you don't understand," he said, and his voice echoed like a blow against stone. The candles flickered, and the smoke figures rose threateningly. A man Megrin knew raised his hands. "We want protection! We want an end to fear!" His eyes gleamed feverishly. "The shadows give us what you deny us." "They give nothing without taking everything," Megrin countered. "They devour you until you fear nothing—because you are nothing." A murmur went through the rows. Then the shadow of a child detached itself from the ground, crawled to the altar, and pressed itself against the wood. The child screamed. The villagers froze, unable to move. Megrin raised his medallion. The flame within blazed up, brighter than any candle. "You feared me because I walk between worlds," he cried. "But today you see why I am here!" He threw consecrated salt into the air. The smoke hissed, receded, and the people awoke as if from a dream. Only one figure remained, tall as a tower, its eyes two holes in nothingness. "You dare to disturb my meal," it whispered. Megrin confronted it. "You feed on fear. Then take mine." He placed his hand on the medallion. The flame flickered as if it were about to go out. But a bright spark leaped from it and struck the figure in the heart. With a scream, it shattered, scattered, and disappeared into the trees. The silence that followed was heavy. Some villagers sank to the ground, others stared with empty eyes at their own shadows. One began to weep, another laughed hoarsely, as if he didn't know if he would ever sleep again. Megrin let her gaze slide over them. "Shadows cannot be forbidden," he said calmly. "But to serve them, take yourself. Carry your light—it is enough." Slowly, the circle dissolved.