A Solemn Fear

It looks just like him. His eyes singe from the waves of smoke that flood the air. Breathing becomes thinner as his sweaty palms hold onto a metal pipe. Covered in bruises, Ethan sniffles as he tries to kindle courage inside of his heart. Loneliness shrinks it as he peers this creature that stalks him. Fear snakes within his veins - and every plink injects more venom through his bloodstream. It looks...just like him. His almond coated eyes. His stupid freckles on the bridge of his button nose. His unkempt hair and his burly brows. Even the stupid gap in his two front teeth. Ethan finds himself on hollow ground. 

This was a test - a test that he must complete should he become a proper knight within his kingdom. Every knight that wishes to serve the king must pass this trial, for it is a trial that will determine the true worth of their valor. In other words, the Harrowship Church does not reward feckless behavior. Only those with iron lungs and a fiery heart can overcome the shadows that swim within this well. Not enough light to soothe the increasing goblet of doubt that is his chest. None but the slightest of rays that pierce through the shallow grate that blots above his head. Time is lost on him. Ethan cannot predict how long it's been since his brother knights shoved him into this hell. A shard of a thought stabs the further corner of his mind: one that flickers on and off again. The very thought of his mother, the one who would not accept him should he turn down the opportunity to become something worthy of the family name. It carves his chilled flesh with shame. 

"Useless boy!" Ethan's ears twitch at the creaking pitch that scratches him. "If you can waste time wondering, then you can get back to work!" It speaks to him. Not in his voice, but his mother's. The copy grinds its talons against a nearby wall. The cries between blade and stone echoes through the narrow cell. As the monster approaches him, a whisper within the dark glues to his mind. He tightens his grip on the blunt object. The brother knights of the Harrowship Church would never allow a newborn to wield an ACTUAL sword. No, for anyone to honor their king and their countrymen's brand, they must SUFFER, for agony is their truest birthright within the Brite Kingdom. 

Ethan's first instinct is to kill the damned thing, but that's hardly a revelation. After all, this IS a monster that culls the weakened hearts of mortal men, and he doesn't know what the creature is capable of other than the simple fact that it can play tricks on him. Still, the young brave stands guard. The ghastly monster reveals itself in the small layer of light that emits betwixt the two. Its face is slimmer and more arrowed. Its eyes, a more bronze luster on its canvas. Its curly hair streamed down to its rear. 

He cannot summon the words - hell, he can hardly swallow his own spit - for his words were soaked in the black waters of this dank cellar. "I refuse to accept this!" he bellows as he points the rusted tip forward. "You are nothing but a mere changeling! A changeling and nothing greater! 

To think it would try and torment him with the image of his own...mother. 

"Poor little Ethan." It lunges towards him with lengthened claws. He lifts the metal bar between himself and the faceless beast. It only manages to slit his cheek as Ethan struggles to push it off of him as half his head is submerged in the putrid smelling waters. The changeling tickles the base of his chin with her spider-like fingers webbed with veins. Its cackling grazes as saliva drops onto his cheeks. "What terrible misdeed have I committed for the very gods to punish me?"  

"Stop it." Ethan closes his sagging eyes shut as he teeth grind on edge. He keeps both hands on his choice of weapon despite the monster growing in bulk. The cold air caresses his peach skin as he jolts it away from him. "You're nothing to me." He sneers with a whisper as he stands on both feet. With every bit of vigor he shoulders the changeling. Into what exactly, he can't know - for he stumbles and kisses the muck. Pushing his own weight away from harsh grounds, he extends his hand to feel something solid and scoots his back against it. "You're nothing to me!" Teeth chattering he chants it aloud, so loud that can gives himself little space to feel the dread crawling up his stomach. Her shrieks froze him as her talons rested onto his shoulders. Its brisk breath brushes against the nape of his neck as he shudders from rising panic. "I said STOP IT!" Ethan swings as the metal scrapes against the sediment. His ears again impaled by the bladed shrieks of not only his mistake, but from the changeling itself.

With a steady breath, he opens one of his eyes to peek into the darkened grey abyss. Silence does not merit peace, for Ethan knows that his mission is not over. The trial cannot be completed until a newborn slays their demon, and what a demon it's become. A whip through air grates against the poor iron of his chest plate. The force blows him against the crooked bars behind him. Murky waters gush into his gaped mouth as he grasps for air. 

"A boy that comes from a family of little prominence." It speaks true in her voice, furthering Ethan to find the idea of drowning appealing. "Your name harbors no real estate or value. A filthy boy with a spacious mind." Something pricks into the surface of his back. With the funds he had, he was able to able to pull together some scraps of iron from a not so respectable blacksmith. The forger even warned the boy to mind his armor. "YOU are nothing, Ethan Solemn. You come from a family of travelers. Travelers with no inheritance but the sewer rats they fill their bellies with." He begins to burn as he leans forward. Barely standing, it continues to slither in shadow.

"It's not real." Fatigue sinks into his aching joints. The speech it used with her tone bleeds him for what he is worth. Each sentence is a blade he cannot evade nor deflect. He loses the weight of his blunt object, and the only impact he made in enrolling in the Harrowship Church is the nonstop rattling his limbs feel. His heart chokes his very tongue. "It's not real, and you...you're not real!" 

He sees a blur within the grey smoke that sprawls throughout the well. Speckles of white light show the creature taking the full bare form of his mother, Rosa Solemn. "Why did you come here, Ethan?" It retracts its gnarly black nails and circles around him. "You laze about and grieve about the hardships of life, and yet do nothing to make ammends." Its lips closed the distance as Ethan's eyelids begin to flood. "Everything that I have sacrificed - every drop of blood has been for an ungrateful child. A petty thief that shares the same blood." 

"Please stop..." The ember that once kept Ethan's heart strong dwindles. "You're not my mother. You're not Rosa. She...she needs me. That's why I'm here. That's why I NEED to be here!" Its pale hands clasps his throat. It slams the back of his head against the wall. Ethan coughs as he grabs it by the wrist. His legs surrender to the cold. 

"No, Ethan." Its breath chills his body further as it draws him closer. "You are a meandering boy that pretends to be a man. You fled, Ethan. You fled from your home, you fled from your responsibility, and you fled from ME." Its teeth sharpen to fangs and bites into Ethan's shoulder. He winces as his body loses strength. 

It was rather strange. It looks just like him. The dark veil over his almond coated eyes. The stupid freckles on the bridge of his button nose. Even that ridiculous gap in his two front teeth. Ethan smirks as the changeling gnaws into his flesh. Its maw stretches as it guzzles on his blood. Images of his mother Rosa flow within his fogged mind. Her kindness when she read stories in the dark. Her lulling voice whenever he cried himself to sleep from the starvation. The warmth of her kiss for when one of the brother knights would beat him for stealing. Ethan smiled, because he felt empty for so long. He was hungry for so long. His worth, put to question no matter the brand or family he came from. Something bursts from his chest - something wounded so tightly, that he just utters it aloud. If this is his abyss, his hell, his punishment, then he can say the words "I'm sorry, mama." 

Tears stream down his cheeks as a fever takes hold of him. He ceases trying to overpower the monster that aims to destroy chomp him to bits, and with minor reluctance embraces it. He hugs the changeling so close to his heart that he melts along with it. A sparkle of what Ethan can only describe as "divine" light showers both himself and his so called monster. 

Bearing his mother's face, a smile reflecting his own conquered its expression. Tears too, spilling as it utters the words "Sweet boy..." its voice becomes lighter, filled to the brim with warmth. Its arms entangles Ethan. "Let the armor go." 

****

Days have passed and Ethan Solemn, young brave of the Harrowship Church, finds himself before the door to his mother's cottage. All it takes is the resolve to knock on the door.