Welcome, you’ve stumbled into The Tori Story Series. If this is your first visit to this realm you might want to catch up.

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The crowd had long since dispersed, wary and full of fear, each member slinking back to their homes to settle into a restless night of tossing and turning. What should have been a night of revelry and celebration had turned sour. With the disappearance of the Witch, the excitement vanished as well.

What was there to celebrate? True, technically the Witch had been tried and found guilty. But there would be no execution. How could there?

The shackles that should have held the Witch hung loose, dangling from the tall pole that stood in the center of the massive pile of kerosene soaked logs. I tell you, that very night should have hosted a massive bonfire, fueled by a frenetic crowd undulating in wild gyrations amidst the agonizing cries of the accused.

It was the quelled anticipation that brought such a sour spirit over the entire village. That and uncertain fear. Also, I should add, pent up frustrations. Each individual ached with the loss of what could have been that night. A Burning heralded one night of guiltless debauchery. One in which you could do whatever you wanted with whomever you wanted and none would reproach you for it.

I tell you it was the single most reason why Burnings were so celebrated. For starters, they rarely, if ever, occurred. When they did, it brought the promise of one single night when all bets were off.

One could live an entire lifetime without witnessing a burning. To say this night was an utter disappointment is an understatement. Because when this opportunity was stripped away it left the crowd with an insatiable itch that no one could scratch.

It was for this reason alone the entire town sulked. And so, it wasn’t necessarily that the crowd wanted Tori to burn, per se. It was just that they ached for someone, anyone, to burn. If only that they might not miss out on the chance of a lifetime.

Only not tonight.

Instead of the pops and explosions from a roaring fire and the drunken shouts from revelries, there were only the soft cries of the night song.

In this very moment, the night song was truly in full swing. Cicadas shrilled in the trees, bull frogs croaked in chorus, the winds even blew in such a way that the branches of the trees surrounding Town Hall thumped together in time. A symphony as only nature could orchestrate. You’ve heard it before I’m sure. Though maybe not one quite like this.

Tonight’s night song was pronounced because Andor was there, and as everyone knows when a Keeper is near nature feels compelled to shout it at the rooftops. In the hope of getting the Keepers undivided attention? I couldn’t say.

This was indeed why so many Keepers locked themselves in their control rooms. Nature had a way of putting Keepers in vulnerable positions. It wasn’t spiteful at all. No, it was more a compulsion. For some Keepers, nature sang a song of love. For others, a song of complaint.

In Andor’s case, it was a complaint. Persistent and blaring. The land was dying after all, and it seemed Andor was content to sit idly by and do nothing.

The song continued to grow in pitch and volume until finally Andor called out “Be still” and indeed all was quiet.

~

“Tori” Andor whispered and stood up from the corner where he too had been hiding in plain sight. Waiting. Or maybe not so much waiting but witnessing.

Andor had not intervened during the trial, even though he could have. He could have commanded the winds to blow, or the earth to shake, or even called an army of all sorts of creatures to overtake the village, causing the trial to end no sooner than it had begun.

However, he chose not to.

You see, Andor had never before experienced a crowd of people. To be honest, he had delighted in the entire ordeal. What he found most surprising was when Tori began to fade right before the very eyes of the crowd. To top it all off, not one of them noticed. They were far too distracted by one another.

Tori had not moved, but instead reamained still for hours on end, almost as though dead. Was she? Andor could not tell. He thought every now and again that he noticed a slight, barely perceptible movement, but so slight and far between he couldn’t be sure. Tori’s body, however, was never gone. Not to him at least. The body remained there, a shimmer.

“Tori” Andor whispered again. He noticed a shift in the shimmering body as he called her name. With each call, it appeared to rematerialize or resurface from the unknown place it had disappeared to.

“Tori” He commanded. This time more forceful and stern. All at once, Tori’s body was back.

Andor eyed her. He felt her neck for a pulse, his palm encompassed her neck for what felt like an eternity. Until finally, there. Yes, indeed, her heart still beat. The blank hollow stare of her eyes, however, remained motionless and unresponsive.

“I know you are in there.” He said squeezing his grip tightly around her throat constricting what little flow of air remained. “The Keepers have instructed me to eliminate you.” He squeezed harder still, while searching her eye’s for some sign of life. When finally the form of Tori shuddered, Andor loosened his grip. “But I’m not going to do that. We will run away together. You and me.”

His nose was nearly touching hers. Their lips so close that his breath hung between them. He caressed her face, then ran his hands down the length of her torso. Yet still, Tori remained lost wherever she was.

Andor kissed Tori’s lips. “I’ll be back for you.” Then stood and left.

~

“Tori” The voice came from a far away distant world. She had a vague sense of recognition, thought she knew the voice, but couldn’t make it out. She was repelled by it. Still it called and called again and with each repetition, Tori was beginning to regain a sense of placement.

Her awareness shifted to where she should have been, back with her body. Only she didn’t want to be unlost. She resisted because here she was with Rowan and that’s all that mattered.

Rowan.

Rowan, too, was unresponsive, suspended in the Void, his extremities fading and nearly frozen. Tori worked feverishly to revive him. However, she had no substance and moved as if in slow motion. Much like a dream.

‘Tori’ the voice persisted. Commanded even. So that all at once she remembered the trial and her predicament.

Tori continued to ignore the far away voice and instead kept her attention focused on Rowan.

She felt an unwelcome, unpleasant sensation of touch – like that of a dead hand squeezing dead skin and she struggled to breath. With all her might she tried to shake the touch but all she could manage was a slight shudder in her body. She would have to leave Rowan if she were going to deal with whomever was handling her. The sensation continued, and she felt distance cold hands run the length of her torso. Then she felt the wet of a kiss. A violent shudder, but still she would not allow her mind to return to her body. She would not leave Rowan— not this time.

~

The sun broke over the mountains to the east and a flock of birds heralded the beginning of the new day.

Through no fault of his own Hunter’s mother kicked him out of the house earlier than usual. She had woken up grumpy and irritable. You see, she was so looking forward to having her way with the Butcher but instead woke to the all too familiar sound of her snoring husband. It wasn’t Hunter’s fault his mother was moody, but she took it out on him anyway. She whipped him hard and locked him out of the house with not one crumb of breakfast to coat his already empty stomach.

So it was Hunter who stumbled into Town Hall in search of some morsel left from the trial the day before. Walking through a side door, he noticed the Witch sitting there unmoving. He froze, unsure.

Immediately, he ran screaming through the streets as if he were being pursued by a ghost, “She’s back. The Witch is back!”

Loud enough to wake the entire town.

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