The Bargain

[Cypher]

601

Harvest

Old Varana

A gentle wind blew a lone, brown leaf across the open field. The cold fall morning sun gilded the ground of the clearing in golden light. Morning dew weighed heavily on the grass and fallen leaves. A single beaten path, strewn with rocks sunk in mud, and covered in patches of grass cut across the center. The ring of outlying trees and brushes created a thick wall of foliage and branches, gently rustling in the breeze. The scent of cold, fresh air; of forest, filled the clearing.

As the sun rose higher, the dew that had collected on the flora began to slowly evaporate, shrouding the clearing in a fine mist, hovering gently above the ground to be disturbed only slightly by tiny gusts. The cloudy sky thickened with fog, accentuating a nimbus around the sun. Like a thick hare-cloak, stillness had fallen over the field. The gathering clouds obscured the haloed sun, creating a gloomy midday luster. Silence settled. Birds flew quietly, high above the ground to their nests, where they sat silent. It had been present for some time: an undercurrent of activity throughout the area.

Tendrils of thick, dark vapor snaked along the ground, hidden by the dew-mist, causing grass shoots to blacken and wither. With a malevolent intelligence the smoke slithered along the field; up the stems of plants; underneath rocks and logs; into the burrows of rodents, leaving their small bodies still and lifeless. The source of the stillness stood in the center of the field. His shadow moved disturbingly on its own, sprouting thorny tendrils of smoke in every direction. At a distance, the man flickered in the hot air, as fire scorched the ground around him. Sparks jumped from the flames licking at the heels of the man, carpeting the field in conflagration and heat.

Over the roar of the inferno, past the grunts and screams of the inhuman shapes in the smoldering warmth of the blaze, the lone man echoed in a thunderous voice: “The bargain has been made!”
All at once, the flames seemed to cower, their fiery tips shying from the heavens. The stillness regained control over the chaos of the firestorm, blanketing the area in an unnatural silence. A presence could be felt. Something heavy, imposing, and frightening, crushed the air. Something unseen, unheard, yet unmistakenly real dominated the sky. A rush of wind swept the fires, heat and ash away in utter silence. The man in the distance stood, mouth agape, head tilted backward facing the sky, glowing cinders in place of eyes.

In the aftermath, bellowing smoke was the only thing moving in the once-green field, the scent of blood and burning iron permeating the air.