As I walk around my childhood village patrolling the perimeter, I can’t help but take in the mountain scenery, the dusk lighting painting purple and orange hues in the sky reflecting shadows off the mountain tops. The wildflowers grew uncontrollably outside the village in the spring air, and the white tips of the mountains above still lingered after the long winter. Stopping on the dirt road from the village’s main gate, I take a deep breath and let in the fresh air. The crisp perfume of the landscape consumes my nose and mind, “What a beautiful night this is turning out to be.” But as if hearing my words, the world split open with the curling of screaming from the village, startling me out of my trance. I begin scouting the area for the sound of the commotion. After a few moments, I see a woman and listen to her frantically call for help. Her eyes were wild with fear as she sees me and begins to approach. 

As I move towards her, I see it’s Patricia, a childhood friend with whom I used to be smitten. We were exceptionally close growing up, always by each other's side and playing together, exploring, and getting into trouble. But when the war came and I was recruited, everything changed. I never confessed my love to her; I was too afraid to ruin our friendship, but I regret it now. When I returned, I found she married another. I was heartbroken, but she was happy, and he treated her fairly, so I couldn’t complain. Until the witch child took him last summer, killing him and leaving her a widow. I still can’t come to tell her how I feel. 

“You have to save her, please!” she cries out, grabbing at my chest as she falls to her knees. “Please, Troy, it’s the witch. She took my daughter! She is all I have left. Please save her!”

“Patricia, please. I need to know where she took her so I can help. Which way in the forest did they go? Maybe I can track them?” She doesn’t seem to hear me as she shakes her head, wide-eyed with ragged breathing.

“That witch Rosaria already took my husband. Now she plans to take my daughter too. I can’t lose her. Please!”

“Patricia! I need you to work with me here! Where did she take her? Where did she take Claire?” I shake her until she makes eye contact with me, a moment of clarity in her lost eyes as she stumbles over her words.

“She took her through the east side of Travl’s Forest, towards the river.” 

I help her up and slowly walk her to the guard post, where I sit her down and tell her to stay there until I return.

“I won’t be long. The little witch couldn’t have gotten too far with your little girl just yet.” After wrapping her in my cloak and a few more words of comfort, I grab a torch and begin moving towards Travl’s Forest. Beyond the village, the terrain began to change. The rocky slopes gave way to rolling hills covered in dense underbrush. The path from the village into the forest was narrow and winding, flanked by towering pines and ancient oaks whose branches formed a natural archway overhead. The transition from the open, sunlit village to the shadowy depths of the forest was striking, as if crossing an invisible threshold into another world. Thick with foliage, it was a realm where sunlight struggled to penetrate the dense canopy. The trees here were ancient, their gnarled trunks and twisted branches covered in moss and lichen. Ferns and wildflowers carpeted the forest floor, their vibrant colors abstract to the muted greens and browns of the underbrush. Pushing through the underbrush, I can’t help but hear my heart pounding in my chest, the blood rushing to my face as I breathe heavier the deeper I go. The night air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the only sound is the crunching of leaves beneath my boots or the distant hooting of an owl. The forest is dark, the trees casting long, eerie shadows in the flickering light of my torch.

My mind races as I recall Rosaria. Not too long ago, she had been just a little flower merchant in our village. She was orphaned and alone, barely scraping by, but always somehow found the most beautiful flowers seen in the land to sell. At first, people thought she was just keen at finding them in the springtime when wildflowers were growing in the woods around our village, but then, even in winter, she was finding flowers just as beautiful. People began calling her a witch and harassing her until, one day, they took it too far and assaulted her. She cried out for help, but no one would come to her aid. They only watched as she was nearly beaten to death. In a moment, though, everything changed. The defenseless child I hoped she was immediately proved me wrong as she showed her true colors and that she was the witch they all feared her to be. Bending nature to her will, she killed the man almost instantly, and without remorse, she seared through the village, killing anyone in her path, including Patricia’s husband, as she made a break for the forest, leaving none in her wake. She seemed less interested in erecting revenge on the village and more in escaping.

I grip my sword tighter as I think back to how we chased her to the forest after, the fear and anger I felt then now resurging as the memories flood back in. I think of her manipulating the trees and plants to block our path, escaping past our grasp. I shake off the memory as I focus on the task at hand, moving quickly following the faint trail left by Claire. Broken branches, scuffed patches of ground, and the occasional small footprints are all signs that I’m on the right track. My thoughts are a whirlwind of fear and determination. I can’t let Rosaria take another life.

As I near the river, the eerie silence is broken by the sound of giggling. I freeze, straining to pinpoint its source. The sound is innocent and playful, sending chills down my spine. I inch closer, keeping to the shadows, my torch held low to avoid detection. The giggling grows louder and more distinct, and I recognize it as the carefree laughter of children at play.

Finally, through the trees, I see them. Rosaria, still a babe herself, pain eats at me as I see her. She's maybe eight or nine, around the same age as Claire. They stand at the riverbank, Rosaria’s dark hair falling over her shoulders, her back to me as they stand near the lazy river, throwing rocks and staring into the water. She’s holding Claire, who looks up at her with wide, adoring eyes, clearly seeing Rosaria as a friend rather than a threat. But how could she? After all, Rosaria was the one who killed her father, not to mention others from the village, too. I understand the girl wasn’t there when it happened, but can she truly not understand the gravity of what she had done?

I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I put out my torch. The sudden darkness envelops me, heightening my other senses. I make my way a little closer to the girls, but I stay out of sight as I begin drawing my sword. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can make out the silhouette of Rosaria and Claire near the riverbank. The moonlight filtering through the canopy casts eerie shadows that dance with every movement. Before I can get much closer, Rosaria turns to me, wide-eyed, her dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight. At the sight of me, her face shifts from innocence to fear and back again.

“Rosaria! Let the girl go!” I demand, my voice cutting through the silence, filled with a confidence I don’t feel. "I don't know what kind of witchcraft you used to make her see you as a friend, but release her!"

Rosaria's eyes widen further, and she steps back, clutching Claire closer. The little girl looks at me with conflicted eyes, her gaze making my heart ache.

“But we were just playing,” Rosaria whispers, her voice trembling.

“You’re taking her away from her mother. Haven’t you already done enough by taking her father away from her?!” The words cause Rosaria to flinch and look at Claire. Tears began to roll down her face, her lips trembling as she fought for every word spoken.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to. I was scared and hurt, and they wouldn’t stop hurting me. I just didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to feel that bad feeling anymore.” Rosaria’s voice wavers as tears begin to pool in her eyes. “I’m alone here. No one wants to play with me, and all you bad people want is to hurt me. She doesn’t. She just wants to be my friend even after everything that happened, why can’t everyone be like Claire.” Tears stream down her face as Claire tries to comfort her. As Claire attempts to comfort Rosaria, I lower my sword, trying to avoid escalating the situation. I know if I am too forceful and too crude, it could spill over into a fight.

“Rosaria, I understand you are scared,” I say gently, “You have been persecuted and hunted.”

Before I can continue, she cuts me off. “What does persecuted mean?” 

Pain overtakes me. I try to keep from choking up as I clear my throat. Finally, I look at Claire, who is still trying to comfort Rosaria.

“Claire, I need you to head back to the village now. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Claire looks at me confused, gripping Rosaria tightly.

“She's sad and crying. I can’t leave her now! My friend needs me.”

Sighing, I try to convince Claire once again.

“Claire, I know you want to help Rosaria. But right now, it’s not safe for you here. Please, it’s time to go.”

Claire looks torn, her gaze torn between Rosaria and me. Rosaria grips her tighter, a silent plea. The forest fell silent as moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a somber glow over the scene. Finally, the silence is broken as Claire cries out.

“I can’t leave her, not now. She needs me! She has no mommy or daddy, no friends but me. Who else will be here for her?” 

Annoyance and fear overtake me as I sheath my weapon and reach out to grab Claire. 

“I’m sorry, Claire, but it’s time we depart.” 

As my hands reached Claire, I began to separate the girls. They both began to cry uncontrollably, wailing and pleading, becoming more and more frantic as I started to take Claire from her. 

“Please, I don’t want to be alone anymore, don’t leave me!” 

Rosaria’s anguish and fear erupt into a desperate surge of magic. With tears streaming down her face, she raises her hands, and tendrils of vine and thorn emerge from the ground around her. The air crackles with raw, untamed power as she tries to keep Claire from being taken.

“No! Please don’t take her from me!” Rosaria's voice cracks with desperation, her emotions fueling the wild magic swirling around her. The vines lash out, wrapping around trees and snaking toward me with alarming speed.

“Claire, keep hold of my hand no matter what!” I call out, attempting to shield us both from the onslaught of nature’s fury. But Claire, overwhelmed by the sudden escalation, releases her grip and slips from my grasp before retreating, her eyes wide with fear as she stumbles backward.

"No, Claire! Come back!" Rosaria's voice wavers, her magic intensifies, thorns and branches now forming a barrier between Claire and me. Claire's cries mingle with the tumultuous energy as I try to slash my way to her. In a desperate bid to protect Claire and subdue Rosaria, I draw upon my training, attempting to deflect the onslaught of magic. But the natural forces unleashed by Rosaria are relentless. Claire, overwhelmed and frightened, breaks free from the chaos. She turns and runs, her footsteps echoing in the silence that follows her departure. Rosaria's cries of anguish pierce the air, echoing through the forest as she realizes what has happened.

“Claire…why are you leaving me too? Don’t leave me…” Rosaria's voice wavers, her magic faltering as she collapses to her knees, alone once more. The vines and thorns recede before she looks up to me, anger and pain in her eyes. 

“You did this. You took her away from me!” She cries out as the thorns and vines that were retreating surge forward once more, driven by her pain. I raise my sword, attempting to fend off the oncoming assault. The vines twist and coil around my legs, pulling me down as thorns dig into my flesh. Each movement becomes a struggle, each breath a battle as I try to reach Rosaria.

"Rosaria, please!" I gasped, my voice strained with the effort of resisting her magic. "This won't bring her back. Killing me won't change what happened."

But Rosaria, blinded by her grief and desperation, doesn't hear me. The forest seems to come alive with her rage, branches and roots converging upon me with unrelenting force. I feel the weight of her pain in every strike, every twist of nature's fury. As the vines tighten around me, I realize that this might be the end. I can feel the life being squeezed out of me, my vision dimming. With one last effort, I force my eyes open, trying to find Rosaria in the chaos.

"Rosaria," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "Don't let this consume you. You still have a chance...to find peace."

My words seem to reach her, if only for a moment. The innocent child I knew, the Rosaria that sold flowers in our village, seemed to return. The vines hesitate, their grip loosening ever so slightly. Rosaria's eyes, filled with anger and sorrow, lock onto mine. 

"You took her from me. You and all the other bad people hated me ever since I was little and always treated me badly. You were all bad people, and you took away my only friend, too!" she screams, her voice breaking with the intensity of her emotions. The vines tighten again, more fiercely this time, driven by the depth of her anguish. I feel the sharp thorns pierce deeper, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I struggle to stay conscious.

"Rosaria," I choke out, my vision blurring. "Please...don't..."

But it's too late. The force of her magic, fueled by her pain and rage, overwhelms me. The last thing I see is her tear-streaked face, twisted in sorrow and fury before darkness claims me. 

As the vines constrict and the life drains from my body, I can barely make out Rosaria collapsing to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please... don't leave me..." I hear her whisper into the emptiness, but the words fall into the void, met with only silence.

Years have passed since the death of Troy. Claire safely made it home to her mother and never ventured into the forest again, but other children fell for the allure of Rosaria’s voice calling to them. As time passed, Rosaria learned that taking the children for longer than a few hours would alert the parents and guards, causing them to venture into the forest looking for them. Because of this, she learned to release the children after a time, asking them to come play with her again another day without having to kill off those who came seeking the children who went missing. But every night that she was alone, the villagers could swear to hear the crying of Rosaria from the forest. Her weeping soon caused the name of the forest to change from Travl’s Forest to The Weeping Witch’s Forest. Although the forest seemed to be the same old forest it always was, whenever those unwelcomed seek passage through the forest, it becomes something of a maze, twisting and turning, trapping those forever in the abyss of fog. Only those special few children will safely make it out and see the beauty of the forest for what it is: a magical paradise blessed with beautiful flowers and clear waters.