Down below, surrounded by thousands of trees, in the ruins of an old fortress, shovels dug into the flesh of the earth. The sky was clear, clouds floated like white sheep, watched over by the Sun like a shepherd. A flock of bloodbirds flew among them, scanning the landscape below, ready to swoop down at any moment.

  The soil oozed red as they dug deeper. The handles of the shovels slipped in their muddy hands, but they kept digging, waiting for the earth to reward them. Fortune watched the growing pile of dirt, the emerging worms.

  Hundreds of years ago, a similar pile had grown, but back then, the fortress was not yet swallowed by the forest, and the sky was not this clear. The air had been heavy, almost dragging the lungs to the ground with smoke. It didn’t matter whether it was the season of blood or rebirth; the heat scorched the skin. They didn’t dig like a pack of hungry dogs back then. Those eyes held fear, not greed, afraid of what would follow once they dug the pit and placed inside what was now being unearthed by ravenous eyes.

  The shovels hit the chests, and they were immediately grabbed and carried away by those with gleaming eyes, before Fortune could say a word to them. He wondered what they would do if he ordered them to put the chests back and cover them up again. He scrutinized their greedy gazes, the longing grins on their faces.

  The Sun began to descend on the other side of the sky, casting shadows from the unpacked chests. They looked like a pile of tombstones. There were more than one cart could carry. Fortune didn’t need to say anything; they immediately broke the locks, threw aside the shovels, and grabbed the lids of the chests. The first lid fell open with a heavy thud on rusty red hinges. Fortune still watched their faces. In an instant, they froze, their dark eyes turning to him before quickly opening the next chest, then the next, cursing louder each time. He didn’t need to look inside any of them to know they didn’t find what they wanted. He was curious to see what they had found instead.

  "Nothing again! Bloody nothing!"

  "Calm down, there’s more hidden in the ground than you think. We just have to keep going."

  One man kicked a chest before heading towards the horses with the others. Fortune lingered for a while with the chests full of human remains and bones. He picked up a skull, ran his hand over his beard, and pondered. He hoped they had suffered enough and long enough. That the air had slowly run out, that the chest had crushed some of their bones when they were crammed into it. That when they turned on each other for the loot, more than one of them lost an ear or a nose. But he also hoped he wouldn’t lose any of his in the near future.

  The fortress once towered above the trees like a giant. It had twelve towers, huge halls, and strong walls; inside the walls were diligent blacksmiths, merchants, countless taverns, and even more dazed minds. He had seen people burn to ash in their own homes behind those walls, their blood burning into their carefully woven clothes.

  Those were the good times.

  Only one tower had survived the assault back then, still standing above the trees, but shamed, collapsed, and tattered. Its shadow, like a clock hand, fell over even more ruins. Some were still suitable for shelter during the rain. Among the ruins, stooped, grey monks moved, a group of them standing by the well. Five of them strained against the rope, their hands trembling from the effort, their blue eyes tired under their tattered cloaks. The water-filled bucket began to rise slowly, then fell back. They strained again.

  Fortune stepped up to them, took the rope, and hoisted the bucket. They carried the water away in smaller vessels, and Fortune’s dark, swirling blue eyes followed their steps. The Sun slowly hid under the blanket of the horizon. The landscape turned red, and the diligent blue eyes continued to work, feeding the newborns and the wandering travelers. With trembling legs, they took one step after another. Their unkempt black, blonde, and brown hair occasionally fell over their faces from under their cloaks.

  When the Moon replaced the Sun, they gathered in the silver light, arranged themselves in rows, and let their knees collapse. They clasped their trembling hands together and, gazing at the sky, began their prayer. Their blue eyes shone like stars in the moonlight. The air of the abbey trembled with the syllables of their prayers, their lips carefully forming each sound. Fortune was among them, gazing at the sky, saying his prayer along with them.

  Later, he rested on his knees within the walls of a ruined building, when a grey monk shuffled in with a bowl of root soup. He took it and set it aside.

  "Don’t bother, Father, I won’t eat it."

  The grey monk carefully bent his knees, but they gave out, and he collapsed. He placed his hands in his lap and looked up at him.

  "My child, tell me…"

  Fortune didn’t wait for him to finish; he knew exactly what he wanted to ask. He grabbed the wooden bowl, took a large step to the monk, and held the tired head in his hands so it couldn’t move. With his thumb, he forced open the monk's mouth and poured every drop of the soup down his throat, while the monk feebly tried to free his head.

  The monk coughed, his questions interrupted, his eyes held the question: Why?

  Fortune returned to his place. The monk wiped his mouth on his cloak, his confused gaze fell on him. The moonlight sparkled in the lake of his eyes. It was calm and quiet, filled with light. In Fortune’s eyes, there was also a lake, but it was deep, dark, overgrown with weeds, and the longer someone searched, the more corpses they would find floating on the surface.

  The shadows deepened in the creases of the monk’s face.

  "Father, why are you here?" Fortune asked from the shadows.

  "To ease the pain of the damned," Fortune’s hand clenched into a fist. "And to guide them towards the Light. That is why we are all here."

  "And is it worth it for them?"

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  "The Light forgives even the damned if they can shed their sins in the Darkness."

  "No, they will never do that."

  "It’s never too late for anyone, anyone can walk the path to the Light, my Child. What is your sin, what kind of life have you led?"

  "It doesn’t matter what my sin is, because I wanted it. I have to be here. I can’t leave."

  "Only your sins keep you here. Let me help you shed them."

  "Nothing keeps you here, right? ‘Whose light remains pure may rise from the darkness back into the light.’ Why don’t you do it?"

  "The Holy Scripture does say so, but I am not ready for eternal rest."

  "Father," Fortune pounded the stone floor with his fist, "how long do you intend to stay here? Ten years, a hundred years, a thousand years? How long do you want to rot in this body?"

  "A thousand years, ten thousand years, or a million. It doesn’t matter. All your suffering will seem like a single moment in the light."

  "Still, don’t you want to rest, even for a short while?"

  "My Child, it’s enough for me to close my eyes for a few minutes now. I don’t need more rest, not with so many suffering around me."

  "Then rest, Father."

  "May the Light guide your path." He gently squeezed Fortune’s hand as he passed by. Fortune echoed the blessing.

  The monk muttered a prayer for Fortune as he began to snore. The silver light streaming in illuminated his body.

  Outside, they carried water, lit torches for the lost, tended to the wounded. Some of them followed a tattered man through the ruins of the fortress. They carried a dagger, a dented shield, and a torn cloak after him, as far as their legs allowed. When he looked back, his gaze tore a piece out of the monks following him. The wind blew leaves, carrying them wherever it wanted. The man stopped. He backhanded the nun holding the shield across the mouth, the others continued their prayers. He took the dagger, pressed the monk’s face into the mud, bashing his head against the ground, the prayer continued. He ripped the cloak from their hands, draped it over himself, then kicked them, pulled their hair, stomping on them with foaming mouth. Leaves cracked, bones snapped. He fastened the dagger to his belt, took the shield in hand. The wind continued to blow the leaves, the monks, now with bleeding mouths, hands throbbing with pain, knelt and prayed for the man’s safety. They watched him with their eyes, their prayers carried by the wind, the man swallowed by the darkness. By then, Fortune was also gone, engulfed by the darkness.

  ***

  The light filtering through the tree branches painted the swollen half of the man's face silver as he lay on the ground. A trickle of blood ran down his head. The moon illuminated Fortune's face too, sparking off his black beard, glinting on the tip of his dagger, and shining on the dented shield thrown at the base of the tree. Fortune kneeled on his chest, holding a rock in his left hand. The man squirmed, trying to crawl out from under him with clenched teeth. Fortune struck his jaw with the rock, causing it to crack and dislocate. Moonlight glinted on the blood flowing from the man's mouth. Fortune sliced through the hanging rags with his dagger, then barely touched the skin with its tip, causing it to flinch in fear.

  "Please!" More blood poured from his mouth as he tried to speak. "Please, let me go!"

  Fortune held the dagger over the man's trembling stomach, a crooked smile involuntarily appearing on his face. His teeth shone in the moonlight as he listened to the man's gurgling pleas.

  "What do you want?" he spat, but his mouth filled with blood again. "What do you want from me? Let me go!"

  Fortune blew out air with a smile.

  "Let you go, is that what you want? Is that what you said?"

  The man nodded. "Yes, let me go!"

  The sky moved the clouds aside, and the moonlight illuminated their faces better, making the path clearer in the evening darkness. The man turned his eyes to it. Footsteps approached, the hooves of horses clacked on the stones.

  "Help! Help me!"

  "Let you go? And how would you repay me?"

  "Any way you want! Let me go, please! Help!"

  The man only looked at the path, at the horses and travelers approaching.

  "Help me! Help me!"

  Fortune also looked back. It seemed they had heard the shouting.

  "I have nothing! Help me!"

  The approaching men’s outlines were highlighted by the moonlight, the leaves crunching under their feet. Fortune brought the knife closer to the man's skin again. The abdomen immediately recoiled as it was touched. The man kept screaming and thrashing.

  "Come on, you would find a way to repay me." The dagger's tip moved closer to the abdomen and then touched the trembling, soft skin. Fortune gently caressed every small bump and scar on its surface. He couldn't wait another moment and pressed deeper. The tip of the dagger became slippery. He scraped the skin but held back, not letting it go deeper. "You were so grateful to the monks for their help when they treated your wounds and fed you." Fortune thought of the bleeding faces, the vomit on the ground, and the kicks the monks had received.

  The man, through tear-filled eyes, watched the approaching shadows.

  Fortune exhaled and let the tip of the dagger go deeper. He watched the man's face, his gaze strained by the muscles. His mouth opened, blood poured out, and he bellowed, thrashing even more, leaves flying around him as he struggled.

  "Help me, please! Help me, help me! I have nothing, help. Help me."

  Through the tip of the dagger, Fortune felt every tissue he cut. He reached the flesh, tearing a piece out, then plunged in again. He stabbed until it passed through completely and touched something very soft and tender. He slid the dagger's tip under the intestine, his eyes locked on the writhing man's face. No intelligible words came out, only half-words screamed incoherently. His eyes darted around, trying to escape his body but couldn't; he sweated, watching the approaching men, who were now only a few steps away, but with every gentle movement of the dagger, he involuntarily looked at Fortune, into his eyes, where the lake rippled, the swollen corpses rising from the depths, reaching out with their hands.

  "You still haven't answered. How would you repay me? Let me help a bit." Fortune grinned, a chill running through him, his hand drenched in blood. "Repay food with food. Give back a bit of what you ate there."

  "But I have nothing, help! Help, please, help!" he shouted towards the men standing around them.

  "Come on, you’re full of meat. Boys, put more wood on the fire, we'll need it," Fortune said, looking at them.

  Eight more grins gleamed in the moonlight. The dagger stabbed, tore, and ripped.

  ***

  Fortune's eyes glittered with the light of the Moon, leaves crunched under his knees, and the cool breeze of cruor caressed his hand among the trees.

  "Show the way to your followers, lead them out of the Darkness, give them a sign, help them. Forgive my insatiable hunger, for I have stained my hands again. Darkness, thank you for sustaining me with your burning anger, for letting me be the object of your will, for allowing the sinners to suffer at my hand. Show your power to the mighty, show your power to the small, strike them with fire, strike them with plague, strike them with war. I want to see your work, show me everything! Thank you for everything."

  He separated his palms. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of burnt flesh. Behind him, the fire crackled, tendons tore between teeth, and sighs settled upon the pieces of meat.

  "Eat, fill your bellies. At least then you won’t think about how you won't receive a single iron blade from me for a while. Not for a long while."

  Even while eating, his slaves argued with their mouths full over the belongings of those they had partly consumed. They glanced suspiciously at Fortune, but he just sat back in the darkness, among the shadows, watching them. They argued over a coat made of some woolly animal's hide. Even its skull hung on it with tiny horns. As they tugged at it, the edge caught the fire. The rising black smoke was so terribly foul that their eyes watered.

  That smell. That disgusting, burnt smell. The shouting, the crackling of the fire, the heat. The memories crawled back into his mind through his nose. He breathed heavily, inhaling the acrid smoke. He saw animals before him. Woolly animals, with tiny horns. A beautiful meadow. A sky covered in smoke. He laughed as he thought of it. He knew where they had to go.

  The Moon set, its silver rays faded and then vanished entirely. The Sun hurried to take its place. Before they set off, they left seven packages in the shadows of the fortress walls. Somewhere where they would surely be found later.

  Every comment adds one year to my lifespan. So go ahead. Help me reach immortality.

  I hope you’ll continue to enjoy the journey, and I’m really grateful to have you here!

  See you in the Darkness.