Brasen inspected the ornate jar, lined with swirls and almost impossible geometry as if it were carved like marble. He was too busy trying to wrap his head around the intricate design that he almost didn’t notice what was inside. It made a piercing sound to get his attention. Brasen dropped the jar but it slowed down before hovering a few inches from the ground.
The strange creature inside was an amalgamation of different insect parts. Iridescent wings and limbs protruded from the roughly humanoid and segmented body. Its head was akin to a cicada and right in the middle was a tiny face looking up at the young man. Brasen was unnerved at the multitude of empty eyes staring back at him, but he finally managed to ask what the thing was.
The creature opened its mouth and a jarring cacophony assaulted the man’s ears; a mixture of insect and animal sounds, leaves rustling, a river raging, and voices from languages long extinct. Yet among the chaos, Brasen caught a word he was familiar with but don’t quite understand; “Siofra”.
The man hesitated to pick up the jar but was overcome by curiosity. Soon he noticed the gentle orange and violet hues of the sky. He moved aside the firewood on his rickety cart and nestled the jar in the middle, laying more wood over it. The young man draped a large, dirty cloth over his cart and began pushing through the late afternoon forest.
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The sky had completely darkened by the time the tired man could see the settlement walls, illuminated only by torchlight. It was lined at regular intervals by wooden spikes, some coated with iron. Brasen wasn’t as superstitious as the rest of the villagers, but that changed today.
A large, rotund man partially clad in iron armor heaved the large wooden gate open. His steps were clumsy and slow and he flashed the young man a drowsy smile. Brasen pushed forward and saw several guards around a table with alcohol in hand. Some had already fallen face-first into the dirt, while others hung limp over the the makeshift chairs and table. This was a common sight at this time of the night as they wouldn’t be expecting any more people to pass through the gate.
Brasen was relieved to had made it a couple paces away when he was halted by another guard. This one was burlier than the previous one, but had the same droopy expression with eyes half-closed and a lopsided smile. Luckily for the young man, the guard lifted the cloth, saw a heap of wood, and decided the cart was clear.
However, the drunken guard bumped into the cart a little too forcefully and knocked one wheel apart. The old cart immediately came crashing down. Yet among the splinters and firewood, the jar hovered with the cloth draped over. Before Brasen could act further, the guard pulled the cloth away and was horrified by the strange creature.
The guard’s screams woke his comrades who then clumsily join his side with spears pointed at the jar. Minds flooded by fear and intoxication, the guards point their fingers and weapons at Brasen, accusing him of being touched by the fae. If he could make it through this, Brasen had no chance of living a normal life ever again after such allegations.
Thinking he had nothing left to lose, the young lad lunged forward and shattered the ornate jar. The creature writhed and cracked. Segments of its body fell apart as it steadily grew taller than all the men around it. It was like the creature was molting. It looked back at Brasen before facing the guards and letting out a relentless, ear-piercing shriek.
The young man’s vision morphed in a blur of orange torchlight and explosions of red. The creature relaxed and turned towards him. It was then Brasen realized he was suddenly in the woods. But this wasn’t the dreary one he was used to. The plants were colorful and grew in strange patterns. He was bombarded by the same intrusive noises, but he caught words he could understand; "Thank you."
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