The Boy who Came with the Wind

Maw | Lena Erenfeicht | Digital Art

The Boy who Came with The Wind by Kiersten McClure

The aroma of the village market wafted through the air, newly-bloomed saccharine tulips dotting along gardens and clumped in bins of merchants, freshly baked apple pie and cream puffs, and the musky, long lasting scent of ancient pine trees.  Many white-painted small stores lined the cobblestone streets of Wilsonville as well as small outdoor shops where merchants and peasants haggled for items from apples to bronze necklaces. It was the spring festival, the most lively time of the year which celebrated the end of the cold and dark winter and the beginning of the many promises of spring. Feratia clutched a small basket filled with apples, a freshly-baked pie, and a stack of books she regularly reread .The clock had just struck five and she was already past her father’s curfew.

Just then, a lively melody mingled with sounds of children laughing and the noises of gaggles of merchants and townspeople. Feratia and the whole village turned to watch a young boy serenade on a silver flute. Feratia's heart came to a sudden stop and she sucked in a breath. The boy looked as if he stepped out of her book of fairytales by The Brothers Grimm. Prince Charming incarnate. Soft curls of crow black hair, pale skin and a sharp, sculpted jawline. The pitch of the flute rose quickly and the tones sounded like joyful bird calls as the notes finally climaxed and the boy gracefully stepped down from the town bench. The boy looked at her clothes, and Feratia flinched. He was definitely a haggler, or perhaps a thief. 

“I mean no offense,” and to her surprise he dropped into a kneel, grasping her hand gently. “Lady…?” 

“Feratia…” she responded softly as her heartbeat doubled, the beating wings of butterflies joining the organ rushing blood through her body. “And you,” she said, a smile betraying her desperate attempts to seem carefree and uninterested. 

“I’m Prince Virgil, and I do not harbor any malintent. I simply have never met such a lady of your divine status,” he said softly as he kissed her hand. Then he looked her directly in the eyes, “Of your beauty.” 

Feratia cupped her other hand to her warmed cheeks, they glowed a tulip-pink. She was even more surprised to find that a golden coat of arms embezzling his tunic and fur coat. He was certainly a prince. But even his social stature was shadowed by his unique, mischievous smile; the hunger in his eyes; and the odd metallic scent that radiated from him. 

He stood and the gentle breeze ruffled through his hair, “May I perhaps escort my Lady?” 

Feratia nodded and tried to steady her dizzying thoughts, too precise to be real, perhaps another of her lovesick dreams. He linked an arm through hers and they began to walk. 

Feratia led him towards the manor and when they arrived two guards gave him an assessing look, but their eyes grew wide when they looked at his apparel. They parted and allowed them to walk through the wide gates of the manor. The manor was made of brown bricks and great apple trees surrounded the outskirts of the gates, servants watering and tending to them. They walked up the stone stairs and into the manor lit by a massive chandelier. A messenger had just informed her father of her arrival. As he turned towards them, his face was folded in rage and his jaw was tighter than a screw, but Virgil didn’t flinch. He walked directly up to him and held out his hand. Her father’s expression was extinguished when he looked at Virgil’s attire. Immediately, her father sunk into a deep bow and knelt at Virgil’s feet. Virgil’s eyes glowed as a smirk slightly lifted the corner of his lips. 

“I, Prince Virgil of the land of Tenebris, wish to court your daughter.” Her father seemed a bit ambivalent at first, but one look at the gleaming gold ring on his finger changed his mind. 

“Of course, I accept. Would you care for dinner?” 

Virgil nodded and sauntered over to the large dining table. They ate and he spoke of his kingdom. “It was a dark and quiet kingdom, not many people passed through. I desperately wanted to leave it,” Virgil said quietly, a semblance of homesickness coating his words. 

“I appreciate your tales, Your Highness, and your offer of marriage.” 

“The honor is all mine, my Lord.” Her father’s suppressed glee showed through his twinkling eyes. 

“Now, although it may be bold of me to request,” Virgil said shyly, “May I please take your lovely daughter to the garden of which you spoke.” Her father nodded and a messenger came to tell him something. “Lady Feratia?” Virgil asked, holding out his hand. She giggled softly, placing her hand in his. 

“It is Feratia, to you.” 

Virgil smiled and they walked into the newly-fallen night, pools of moonlight illuminating the delicate roses and the sweet-smelling tulips. A long time ago, she’d promised herself she’d never fall in love, let alone with a stranger, but some force pulled her into Virgil’s dark eyes which were turned ghostly by the night sky. But where was he from? She’d never heard of a kingdom called Tenebris, had she? Maybe, I should turn back. It is awfuly late… She thought. Suddenly, Virgil was behind her and she stepped back instinctively.  He simply smirked and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“Are you afraid of me now?” He pouted, his cornflower blue eyes twinkling.

 “No,” she said, assuring him as well as herself. 

“Good,” he beamed. And there was the intoxicating rhythm of her heart making her cautious nature disappear. “Feratia, what do you want most in the world, whatever it is I will assure it is yours.” 

She remained quiet for a moment, but then she spoke up. She knew exactly what she wanted. “I want to write.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows rose in response. 

“I know I am a woman, a quiet, soft-spoken woman on the outside, but what I truly want is to be an author, and impact the lives of women to come, giving them the hope I was never blessed with.” 

Virgil nodded, “I’d love that.” Feratia’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head in disbelief. “You deserve it, no one should be unable to follow their passions because of their sex.”

“Really?” Feratia asked softly. 

“Really,” he nodded. As the full moon began to swell, the metallic scent rose around Virgil. He glanced down at his watch, and a thin grin formed at his lips. 

“Feratia, will you go with me into the woods?” He leered down at her with a hunger in his eyes, eerie as the sudden silence of the garden. 

“Umm…” Feratia stuttered, the words buried in her throat. 

“I love you, Feratia,” Virgil pleaded. “It would mean the world to me. I have a surprise for you.” 

Feratia's stomach clenched slightly, but she spoke. “Of course. A moment please.” 

He nodded, but with his jaw tight and a commanding glare, then, he sneaked into the woods as quiet as a serpent. Guards rushed over to Feratia, disarrayed. 

“Lady Feratia, where is he?” the right guard, Gerald, breathed. 

“Virgil?” Feratia questioned. 

The guard nodded, “He is not who we once believe he was. He is not who you think he is.” 

“What do you mean?” Feratia said as her heart rate quickened to that of a rabbit’s. 

“Tenebris is not a kingdom and no royal troops have been reported in the village.” Feratia's head felt light and her chest was void of oxygen even though air surrounded her. 

The guard spoke again, placing a steadying hand on her right shoulder, “We must find and apprehend him. Where is he?” 

“In the garden,” she whispered. The second guard, Arthur, turned toward the manor where her mother could be seen pacing back and forth. 

“I must stay and protect Lady Ana Sofía. I will assure her that her safety is taken care of and you will apprehend him.” Gerald nodded and followed Feratia, a hair’s width behind. An uncomfortable warmth circulated around her body, piercing the cold air that the settling fog had brought. 

“Virgil?” she said in just over a whisper. 

“Yes, my love?” Virgil stepped out of the shadows, his arrogant smile gleaming with his perfectly white teeth. Virgil’s smile bended into a sneer when he saw the guard. “Who’s that?” 

“Virgil…” The guard lunged toward him with his sword, but Virgil grabbed him effortlessly. The skin of his hand had become scaly and blood-red as it wrapped around the guard’s neck, lifting him off of the ground. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air that would never come. The enchanting feeling of her heart racing transformed into a poisonous pounding in her chest. The trees were entrapping her; the spaces between them were growing thinner and thinner.

“Let him go!” Feratia cried, rivers of tears streaming down her face. Virgil smiled a horrifyingly sweet smile and let go. A second later, Virgil's death-black nails slashed through the guard’s throat and Gerald began to choke on his own blood. His hands went to his throat as he desperately tried to contain the bubbles of blood effervescing from the slit. His knees bent and he fell to the ground, coughing and sucking in only blood. 

“Gerald!” Feratia was at his side instantly, desperately trying to stop the blood with her hands. When her efforts proved futile, she held his hand tightly in hers, terror freezing her body as his hand went limp. Virgil’s ominous sweet voice hovered over her as he slowly approached her. 

“Feratia, he is trying to tear us apart, I could see it in his eyes. He is jealous of our union. Be my bride.” 

“I will do anything, just please do not harm me.” 

“Of course, my Lady. Simply declare your love for me. Your eternal love.” 

“I-I declare my eternal love.” 

“Perfect.” 

Feratia closed her eyes, she knew there was only horror to come. Her ears were invaded by the sound of bones cracking and bending, twisting into a creature. Slowly, she opened her eyes to the creature, and saw the precise glinting grin of Virgil. But he was not Virgil, his skin was as red as skeletal muscle, death-black claws protruded from his calloused fingers, and ram horns poke through his head that was filled with shark teeth. He chuckled as he licked his lips, the same chuckle she’d heard many times. Liquid fear spilled out onto her cheeks. “You are a Lenebrite. I knew those eyes were murderous, unhuman.” 

“Yes, a creature which feeds on the loving hearts of women. A creature of the full moon, of shadows. I’ve been starved of hearts for two long months and only you can provide a sufficient one. Now, join my collection.” Feratia held her breath, her screams would be unheard, swallowed by the foggy forest and its thousands of dark trees. The only sign of her existence would be the cold blood that leaked from her corpse. 

The worst thing she remembered before her death wasn’t the black claws that sliced her throat open or the way that she drowned in her own blood. But the way that Virgil, the Lenebrite, had held her hand to the very end. In the afterlife, she wished to write and to read and to have courage to do all the things she never had the courage to. But most of all she wished to warn others as I wished to warn her. Remember the deceptions of the heart, for even without black magic, it is a force to be reckoned with. Virgil kept his promise. When he had devoured her heart hungrily, her eternal soul had joined his. Another heart in his collection. 

Now there was another village, and there he was, playing a silver flute in the village square and intently staring at a young girl of sixteen. His soft curls of wheat blonde hair, tanned skin and a sharp, sculpted jawline glinting in the sunlight. Handsome beyond comparison and songs as sweet as honey. Within him, Feratia’s harvested heart skipped a beat.