“You should be ashamed of terrorising such innocent people!” Hector yells. “You—” He pauses. His face grows warm once he realises the person he’s taken hostage isn’t his intended target. Hector knits his brows together and drops his sword back down to his side. He sighs. “You’re just a kid. Apologies,” he says. “It seems I have the wrong person.”

The boy that had been trapped beneath Hector’s weight replies with a giggle as Hector immediately stands, his shoulders slouched, his posture much more relaxed than when he’d first come here now that he knows he isn’t in any danger, yet. This might get complicated once she returns considering we are both here…the knight thinks, all the while wondering how he’ll fight off a witch and save a child all at once, as he wipes away the sweat from his brow with his knuckles.

With his hands in his pockets, the boy begins to whistle in a nonchalant manner, as if he weren’t afraid at all, as if his presence here were not a new occurrence, but one of a resident returning to his home.

Hector eyes him with caution. The idea that the witch may have a son briefly crosses his mind. He ponders on the reason for the boy’s presence; however, before he can even come to a conclusion, the knight is violently thrown to the other side of the room.

His back crashes into the wall, a gasp is pulled out of his throat. Hector’s eyes go wide. In a matter of seconds, perhaps less, the boy that he’d considered saving wraps his fingers around his neck. His grip is firm, and Hector wonders how a child could possibly acquire such strength for himself as he thrashes against his newfound enemy’s arm in hopes of delivering himself from the curse of death.

After what seems like an eternity to the knight, the boy finally decides to release him.

Hector’s metallic armour chants with clinks and clunks as his legs hit the floor. He coughs, desperately tries to catch his breath, to escape and crawl away despite the multicoloured dots and black splotches dancing in his vision. Yet, before he can recover, he notices the boy approaching him again. Hector thinks it ridiculous, that he has come here to slay an all-powerful witch only to be beaten to death by a commoner. “What do you want?” he gasps, while reaching for boy’s leg in an attempt to trip him—an attempt that only fails miserably as the boy swiftly dodges Hector’s weakened grip.

“What do I want?” the boy asks, as he shoves a hand into Hector’s head of short hair, and tugs until the knight is on his knees and looking up to him. “That’s an interesting question.” He laughs.

The way he tightens his fingers around Hector’s dark strands makes the knight cringe from the pain. “Let me go, you dastardly fiend!” he demands.

But the boy does nothing of the sort. His devilish smirk only grows wider at Hector’s expense while he kicks at the knight’s chest and watches as Hector goes stumbling backwards and stays stuck, into the ground, swallowed by the earth down to his waist.

Hector struggles against the trap. Even so, nothing comes of his fight for freedom between him and a power unknown to the knowledge he was taught. He grunts, and punches the ground. There is defiance in his gaze as meets the boy’s own. “What have you done to me?” there is no fear hidden in his shouts, only anger, and rage directed at the trickster.

“What?” The boy shrugs. A killer glint flashes through his gaze of emerald, specked with yellow, the stars in a darkened sky. As he glances down at Hector, he huffs. “I let you go, I don’t see what the issue is here.” His nose rises into a wrinkle. He brings his hand to his face and sniffs it. “Geez,” the boy mutters, while wiping his palms on his garments like he’s just touched filth. “Humans smell weird.”

Hector blinks. He wants to mention that out of the two, he isn’t the one covered in mud and other questionable fluids. Though, he stays silent, because the issue at hand is a much larger one in his mind—who this boy is, and what his affiliations with the witch are, Hector would like to know.

The boy cocks his head to the side. “Shouldn’t you be happy? Come on, smile, knight.” His smirk is that of a sadist’s, and suddenly, Hector doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to get out of this place in good shape if he decides to go easy on his newfound enemy.

As young as he may be, he is a menace, the knight thinks, one I cannot ignore. His lip twitches. With a grunt, Hector tries to throw himself at the boy, who takes a step away from him until he is out of reach. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Hector mutters, with his head hung low. Anger rises in his gut. “Transforming yourself into a child, luring me here and trying to gain my trust… Their claims were true, you have no morals. You should be ashamed of yourself, witch!”

The boy draws a symbol into the air. Hector tenses as he approaches once more. Before he has time to react, the boy has already shoved a palm—his skin cold as if frozen—against his forehead.

The knight feels the blood leaving his face. His surroundings turn to a bleak and disconcerting blackness—the last thing he hears is ringing, before he is no longer here.