The Second Moonrise Part 10: The Salamander's Story

"Have you heard of home deities before? They used to be common throughout the worlds. Creatures like brownies or húsvættir or domavoy? They would protect the home and its inhabitants, and keep it in good health. However, they weren't always like that. They used to simply be spirits of the land, without a home of their own. They roamed as a nomadic force that didn't care one whit for the people that traveled around them. And that's where our story begins: with one such entity, not unlike our own Dark Forest. This is the story of Place 119."   Soil leaned back on her log, eyes turned towards the branches. Thinking. "I think I've seen this place. This is the run-down house that's stuck in the Flooded Forest right? I always wondered how that got there."   The Salamander nods seriously. "That's the one. Place 119 appeared in the Dark Forest many years ago, empty and desolate. But its story is much stranger than you might imagine. It's a home that has existed far longer than it should, and will likely continue to exist in some capacity for many years to come."   Soil's mouth quirks up. "Knowing how time works here, that's either saying very little, or a whole lot. What makes the home so strange?"   "Well for one thing, it's haunted. But that should be obvious by now. The spirit of the house has held it together for centuries, despite its age. And for another thing, the spirit didn't used to exist. It's one of the rare occurrences in the worlds when something becomes so old that it develops a will of its own." The leaves of the trees rustled in a breeze that couldn't be felt, only heard. Branches and timbers settled in the distance. "Again, very much like our very own Dark Forest. And just like it, the spirit used to despise its captivity." A faint cracking of wood sounded off in the distance, almost as if the Forest was complaining. The Salamander ignored it. "For you see, Place 119 was originally built deep in a mangrove swamp. Its residents used it to traffic drugs, hide from the law, and and brew moonshine. Its purpose was not a bright one. Eventually though, it was abandoned. Alone and forgotten, the house sat in the swamp and began to decay. And then something unexpected happened: a new owner moved in."   "A long time had passed since the home had been created, forgotten and found again. It didn't know how to treat this new happenstance. Originally, the house didn't even have a name. So the owner gave it one. 1. 1. 9. Nailed into the wood near the door. With each hammer blow, the house grew to hate its new owner. Why couldn't they just leave it in peace? It had just been on the verge of returning to its components."   "But the owner wouldn't leave it. The house watched its new inhabitant day and night. It watched them as they began to make repairs. They cleaned out the gutters. They patched the wall that had once shielded its owners from gunfire. They replaced the rotting wood, infested by wood lice. The home could do little but watch all of this. And as it watched, it became confused. Why was this person so intent on repairing it? Why did they have to gain? It didn't take long before it found out."   "The person brought another one. Its belly was swollen, but they seemed to be in no pain. This confused the home. It had seen many others during its time as a drug hideout, but this was the first time it saw someone like this. They seemed both more slender and more round than its current owner. Who were they? Why were they so different? It didn't like it at all. Different could only mean bad. But Place 119 could only watch, and so it did."   "Time passed. Months later, it suddenly realized there was yet another member wandering its halls. This one was also different, but only because it was smaller. It crawled instead of walked, and seemed nothing like them ones who had built it. This new creature fascinated the house. Where had it come from? When had it arrived? As far as it remembered, the original owner and their companion had drove off, and then this thing came back. The companion (for the house couldn't think of any other way to describe it) was also a lot less fat. 119 liked how they looked when they were thinner, though it didn't understand how that had happened in such a short time. It seemed like they could move more easily."   "The newest owner was small and chubby and made lots of noise. The house hated it when it cried. The first time it had happened, it startled 119 so much that it shifted on its foundation, causing a great ruckus in return. Eventually though, it started to get used to it. But it still hated it."   "But you see, the family wasn't... normal. As time went on, they grew. They wife (for that's what she was) began to practice her craft. She had a vast quantity of glass jars, each full of differently colored plants. Initially the house paid them no mind. Its owners had always brought various odds and ends into it and it didn't think anything about them. That was just what owners did. But one night a summoning took place."   "As 119 watched, the wife and the husband drew a complex circle on a mat they'd placed in its living room. The wife had pulled out several of her glass jars. A match was struck, candles lit, and words spoken. 119 felt itself being drawn towards the circle. It wanted so badly to be inside the circle. It pushed at the edges of the chalk walls, but it couldn't get in. This is dumb. How can I not get into a place that's inside me? Place 119 sulked and creaked, but watched the ritual. In one of its rooms, the little one began to cry."   "There was something in the circle. Another Place 119. But it wasn't the same. It looked like a dark shadow, formless and inky, floating above the newly placed lacquered wood. It peered around the room and spoke."   "'What is my charge?' Its voice rattled the nails of the house and frosted the windows. 119 knew there was something wrong with this creature. The woman spoke up. 'You are to protect our son.' The being nodded. 'And what is your payment?' The couple looked at each other. The man nodded. 'We offer our lives for his.' Again, the creature nodded. 'I accept this contract.' The woman said a word, then stepped into the circle. Her husband followed suit. As they did, their flesh began to melt from their bodies. In seconds, they were a pair of bones on the floor, hands still clasped in their final moment."   "Place 119 could still feel the presence. It let out a dry, rasping cackle, and stepped forward into the world. In another room, the baby still cried."   "No one knows why the couple summoned the demon. What we do know is that it dwelt in the house with the child until they were full grown. And then it left with the child. We don't know where they went. But Place 119 still guards the bones of the parents who left the fate of their child to a demon. If you visit the house, you can still hear the crying of the baby."       The Salamander fell silent. I looked around the Campgrounds for the first time since it had started its story. Soil was lying on her side, head propped up on one arm. She was clearly still awake, but just barely. Her eyes were a pair of crescent moons underneath her midnight hair. I turned towards my sister and realized she was gone. Ron too had disappeared. My heart began to pound.   "Where did they go? What did you do to them?"   "Shhhhhhhh...." A wind whispered through the Dark Forest, chilling me through the recently torn shirt. A wave of exhaustion swept over me.   "I'm sorry for what I have to do. I'm sorry we couldn't save your parents. I'm sorry you became lost." I followed its gaze across the water -- when had the Campgrounds been surrounded by water -- to the lone house that sat precariously above a deep sapphire ocean, nestled on a network of roots. I could just barely make out numbers '119' next to the door. The Salamander turned towards me. "But I'm not sorry for what comes next."   "Sleeeeeeeeeeep..." The river babbled pleasantly around us. We sat on an impossibly dense hammock of roots. It was such a comfort to be safe at last. Maybe I could finally rest. For the first time since we'd lost... lost? Lost...ling? My eyes refocused.   "It's best you sleep little one. Sleep for uncle Cicero." A dark, masked shape stood over me. It reached out a taloned hand and ran it through my hair.   Cice...ro... my mind struggled against the fog, but eventually the multiple day forced march that Soil had us on won out. Exhaustion claimed me.