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Two Changelings, in a World of Foes

by Orcus

Chapter 12: Epilogue

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Epilogue

"Who am I? Wh-where am I? Wh-who a-am I?" the young changeling nymph, who formerly knew herself as Skia, continued to repeat to herself. Her entire body had gone numb from the cold a while ago, and her rear left leg had become almost completely coated in frostbite, rendering it unusable, forcing her to drag it along. Still, she continued to trudge forward, through the blizzard.

"Wh-where am I? Wh-who a-am I?"

She was not alone as she wandered through the wasteland of ice and emptiness. Circling above like a foul buzzard, was the phantom, equine shape of a windigo. It brayed in an ethereal voice as it flew around its prey, waiting for her to finally freeze solid. Though windigos were creatures that fed on hatred, the feelings of despair and hopelessness were a closely beloved second to them, and what this changeling was showing matched what it greedily sought.

"Where a-am I?" Wh-who a-"

Her maddening mantra of despondency was finally stopped as she suddenly sank to the ground, unable to go on any further in her damaged condition. The windigo calmly moved in for the kill, dropping to the ground, and floated up to the young creature at a snail's pace, as if savoring the changeling's torment. She sobbed aloud, the biting pain finally getting to her, and no hope to comfort her. Even with what unfathomably little she remembered, she knew death could be the only possible thing imminent, and closed her eyes, just waiting for it to come and end her misery... that is, until a peculiar sound went out.

"Stay away from her, you rotten specter!"

This new voice sounded like that of an elderly person. The nymph opened her eyes, and turned her head around as she heard the sound of a clutter, and witnessed a tall, abnormally skinny, upright shape clad in a thick coat of some sort, swing what appeared to be a lantern in one of its gloved hands, bashing the transparent creature with it.

The windigo let out a sharp whinny of both surprise and pain as it was struck by the lantern again.

"I said get back! Back! Now!" the figure shouted once more, furiously. Thoroughly convinced now, the windigo turned tail and, wailing like a banshee, flew off, back into the depths of the storm from whence it came. Knowing it would not return, the scarecrow-like entity quickly turned to Skia, revealing it had a sack-like head with a cut-open area representing its mouth, and a pair of supernaturally golden eyes showing through a pair of holes.

"Ah... I've found you at last, my dear..." the figure spoke down to Skia, its voice sounding very relieved. "...And it appears I got here just in the nick of time. Thank everything good in this world they decided to send me when they did..."

"Wh-who are you? D-do you know who I am?" the changeling asked through chittering teeth, her hope restored. The figure responded by pulling its thick-looking, wool jacket off of its own body, kneeling over, and placing it over and around the nymph like a blanket.

"Oh, you poor lass... I know who you are, yes," he replied, his golden eyes completely focused on her, as he wrapped one of his stick-like arms around her like a bundle, before lifting the weak creature up in it. "Come, let old Clopin take you home. We'll get that there frostbite on yer leg looked at."

The nymph closed her green eyes as the warmth from the jacket eased her from the frigid pain. The scarecrow-esque being, whom she now knew as "Clopin," raised his lantern to his mouth, and blew on its candle. Instead of going out, the yellow flame burning inside of the metal object began to turn white, slowly getting brighter until it was enveloping both in its glow.


"Skia! Where are you? You can come out!" Thoraxis's voice went out through the storm. He was cold beyond belief, but he had something more important to consider, as seen by the small, hoof-like tracks that he was following.

It was a sheer miracle in on itself that he found the tracks in the snow. He had already shot up a firework-like spell into the sky to alert the others about what he found not a minute before, and he was sure he was on the right path. He ran through the snow, continuing to call out his daughter's name.

"Skia! Listen to my voice! It's your dad!"

He suddenly witnessed a glow coming from just ahead, disappearing as briefly as it appeared. The blizzard made it too thick to see it fully, but it was impossible to miss. With a smile, Thoraxis ran forward, up to it, sure that it was his daughter.

"Skia! It's me, Dad!" he shouted, tears of joy falling from his face. He followed the tracks that lead up to where he witnessed the anomaly, but halted as he reached it. He looked around, confused, before looking downward.

The tracks had stopped. As if Skia had walked a little further and then vanished into thin air, the trail ended abruptly.

"No... no..." Thoraxis said, looking around desperately for something, anything he could identify as a clue. "No... no, no, no, no! Skia! Skia... where are you?! Skia?! SKIA?!"

When his final scream was met with only the howling wind for a response, Thoraxis, unable to contain his emotions any longer, fell to his knees. He didn't seem to notice, nor care about the large, white, scaly shape that suddenly landed next to him with a loud clutter, and a spray of snow.

"Thoraxis, what did you find?" Petra asked, as she folded her wings away. Thoraxis didn't respond. She quickly ran in front of him, and saw he was just sitting there with a look of pure, dazed shock glued onto his face, his teal eyes widened and focused forward, a frozen trail of tears running down his cheeks.

"T-tracks e-ended... t-t-tracks e-ended..." he spoke quietly, seemingly to himself, before motioning to where the trail of hoofprints stopped in the snow, each ovular-shaped indent in the ground quickly getting refilled by the powder and ice that fell from the sky.

"Oh no..." Petra gasped, covering her mouth in disbelief over what he was saying. She walked up to him in a vain effort to comfort his despair.

"I s-s-saw a flash, and th-then..." he openly wept, as he fell into her arms. "Th-the t-t-tracks... e-ended..."

Petra bent over and embraced Thoraxis, sharing in his indescribable pain. Out of everything he said, one thing was perfectly, and vividly clear to her.

Skia was gone.

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes:

Cliffhangers stink, I know. At least the sequel is on its way...

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