Chapter Text
Prologue
Once upon a time
The half-frozen ground crunched under the man’s feet as he ventured deeper and deeper into the forest. The forest was already submerged in darkness, despite the last rays of the setting sun piercing through the thick canopy, illuminating the path ahead. The man had been searching for hours, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.
He knew it was here.
Somewhere.
Dead branches broke under his feet, and he sneered in distaste at the scent of rotten leaves mixed with the stink of wet dog. Fog clung to the ground, giving the forest a mythical air befitting his search, since it was a mythical creature he hoped to find.
A split tree, the woman had said. Look for the split tree.
What a terribly exact description in a forest, the man thought bitterly, but he didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, until he found the tree.
He cursed when he tripped over a root. He couldn’t see more than a few steps ahead. A branch tore a hole in the fine silk of his clothing, but the man didn’t care. He had more fine clothes at home for he was a count, the heir to his father’s title. Some might think he had everything he wished for – but if he had, he wouldn’t risk his life in this undertaking, now would he?
The Count stumbled again, falling to his knees and scraping his palms on the ground. He was exhausted. His muscles ached because he’d been walking for hours – or was it days? He couldn’t tell – through this forest.
Sighing, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Maybe this was hopeless? Maybe he should just give up?
Just when he was about to despair, he lifted his gaze –
And there stood a split tree merely a yard away from him. He hadn’t seen it, would’ve walked past without ever noticing it. It was thoroughly unremarkable; a tree among trees. But then, it also was not. A lightning strike must’ve cleaved it almost in half, the edges of the bark blackened and burned.
Hastily, he stumbled towards it, reached inside its mouth – deeper, deeper, deeper – ignoring the wet, slimy substance that brushed against the back of his hand and the spider that fled from within. Then, his fingertips found something hard, dry – clay.
With a sigh of relief, the Count withdrew the old amphora from inside the tree. He’d found it.
He’d found the djinn!
The realisation came rushing at him, like the ground to a falling man. He had really done it!
Joy and triumph bubbled up inside him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to not break out in wild laughter.
Without thinking twice, he smashed the vessel to the ground, expecting some creature to appear out of its depths, the cackling of magic, or the rustling of leaves.
All at once, the forest around him went dead quiet. Not the calm, comfortable silence of a long winter evening in front of the fire, but a charged silence, like every creature was holding its breath in anticipation. No heartbeat, no warmth. Only cold.
Darkness fell over the woods. Not the soft darkness of a moonless night but the violent darkness of emptiness, a darkness that devours.
The Count swallowed audibly, and a cold shiver ran down his back. But he couldn’t give up now. He knew what to say, knew the wishes he needed to utter.
“Djinn, I am sorry you were trapped for so long, but I hope you will grant me three wishes in exchange for your freedom,” he said loudly, only the barest of trembles in his voice.
A gust of hot air blew through the Count, and the cold that followed was icy.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he nodded to himself. “My first wish is for my family – my mother, my wife, my brothers, and any of our descendants to be protected. May no human, monster or magic ever harm them.”
A high sound filled the air, almost like the howling of a storm, and the darkness crept closer, filling the space between the trees, lurking like a predator.
Quickly, the Count continued, “My second wish is for my wife to bear an heir to me, for I myself cannot beget children.”
His heart trembled when he thought of his young, blue-eyed wife – she was sitting at home, waiting for him, worrying no doubt. They’d only been married for two years, but it was a good marriage. He knew Marianne didn’t love him – not yet, his heart whispered – but she respected him, laughed with him, and sought to share his burdens.
The pressure of conceiving a child was hard on her for it was her that was blamed, not him – even though the Count knew that something was wrong with him, and not with her. Every month, she would cry when she found blood in her smallclothes; for days, she would barely speak, and the Count could do nothing to help her – except this.
“My last wish is for my child to find happiness, and passion, and love in whatever they may do,” the man choked out, just as the darkness swallowed the tree line.
Black, fog-like tendrils reached for him, and he automatically stepped back, but there was nothing but inky mist behind him.
He’d thought the djinn would disappear as soon as he uttered all his wishes, but the heat and the darkness only came closer; it was the suffocating, dry heat of deserts just after sunset.
“I will see your wishes fulfilled,” a disembodied voice whispered, and a dark shape formed itself from the smoke, only visible because it was of a denser darkness than its surroundings. Red eyes glowed in the night.
Automatically, the Count stepped back. Dread pooled in his gut as the creature advanced.
“Good, er...thanks.”
The djinn chuckled; it was a terrible sound, all malice and no humour.
“You should have included yourself in the first wish, mortal. But since you haven’t...” Within the blink of an eye, the creature hovered only an inch away from the Count’s face, “I’m free to do this.”
The Count felt something hot in his throat, like burning iron, but he had no breath left to scream. Then, darkness was upon him and he knew no more.
*
Nine months later, Julian Alfred Pankratz, Count de Lettenhove, saw his first light of day.
Artwork by TheCrownprincessBride