The Rise of Nix

Shooting open her eyes, Nix blinked a couple of times, forcing them to get accustomed to the new light. Her head felt groggy and thick, like a veil of mist covered her thoughts. Looking around the familiar room, she realized it was her home, but it also wasn’t. The light that splayed through the cracks seemed dreamlike, and as she raised her hand to feel it, she watched in amazement as the fog caressed her skin, moulding around her fingers as she splayed them open. This must be a dream, she wondered. How else could she describe what she was seeing? Sitting up, she pulled the blanket from her body, noticing no heat or cold, just nothing—another sign pointing to a dream.

Getting up and walking towards the cover of her entrance, she grabbed the material and pulled it away. Another blinding light forced her to look out and cover her eyes as she stepped out. While she waited for her gaze to return, Nix used her other senses to probe her reality. Nothing. She felt nothing, heard nothing, but as her eyes slowly opened, she expected to see nothing but her hand let go of the cover to close over her mouth and stifle the scream she wanted to release.

The usual setting of her village remained, but the horrors within them made her blink a couple of times, hoping the bloodbath was not what she was witnessing. Instead of villagers walking around, they were strewn across the ground, their usual smiles replaced with mouths frozen in screams, their happy eyes morphed into pain and fright. Stepping over their lifeless bodies, all Nix could do was take it in. Torn limbs scattered about as they lay in pools of blood, armless and legless bodies covering each other: men, women, and children. Some had gaping holes in their chest, while others missed their heads. A few were torn in half and dumped next to their lower halves.

With her mouth hanging open and her voice choking in her chest, she carefully stepped over the dead, scared to bump into them. What happened here? Who did this? she silently wondered, unable to process what she was precisely seeing. As the fire pit popped up from behind one of the huts, she headed to it, but the worst was yet to come. Black smoke is being carried off by wind she did not feel, the dying flames sparkling in the sun. Reaching closer, an invisible threat drew her near as she could not turn around. There is burned wood scattered around the bottom of the pit, with a more significant chunk in the middle. If the wood had burned, it should be ash, so why is there still a big piece? Stepping over the rock barrier onto the ember, the heat she thought would come felt normal. Not even the textures against her soles were present. The centre chunk called out again, and as she fought against the pull and lost, her trembling hand slowly reached out, her fingers itching to inspect it. Just as she was about to graze the black embers, two slits shot open, the sudden scare making her body jerk back. The white slits were emphasized against the oaky, burned wood, but the light orbs choked the air in her lungs. Recognition flashed past Nix’s features the longer she inspected them, the bloodbath behind her forcing her to look ahead than at her butchered friends.

As the eyes frantically shot about, Nix brought her hand back as tears softly fell, and the heartache of seeing her friend like this killed her inside. “Mary,” she whispered.

Her name being called made the eyes shoot to Nix, followed by another white crack appearing. Pearly whites flashed below the dark cracks as a shape took form, and a mouth appeared. Croaking noises burst from Mary as her gaze bore into Nix.

“It is you.” Nix reached out but hesitated before touching the embers. If this is her friend, then she must be in pain, but a voice in the back of her mind screamed dream. It all felt so realistic, and if it was a dream, why did she see it, and where was she in reality? “What happened?”

“He... happened.” rasped Mary, her voice breaking.

“Who is he?”

“The one that came on the full moon,” replied Mary, minor ash flakes falling from the cracks around her mouth as she tried to speak.

“I don’t know who you are talking about.” Nix began to raise her voice. Anxiety began to grab onto Nix as she watched her burned friend trying to speak, unable to look away for the only place she could look was the torn bodies of her dead friends and acquinteses.

“Stop him before it is too late.” came a final warning from Mary.

Before Nix could ask more, a shift happened. The air became heavy and fogged, the white pillowy smoke slowly closing in from both sides, rolling over the dead as it consumed the world around her.

Looking behind her frantically and then back at Mary, Nix sensed the end of the dream, but she needed more information. “Mary, who did this.”

The smoke reached her feet, crawling up her skin and making it appear like she had none. Keeping an eye on the approaching fog, Nix looked back to Mary but was met with a pile of burned wood, no white slits.

“Mary, come back. I need your help.” pleaded Nix, focused entirely on the fog as it rolled past her knees, slowly approaching. On instinct, she tried to run, but it was as if the mist glued her down, and all she could do was watch as she disappeared.

While the fog had engulfed her surroundings, it left Nix in a void as she became consumed by an endless whiteness around her until only her face remained. Closing her eyes, she felt the sudden sensation of the fog caressing her face, swiping up and down, the texture brought with a weird smell.

“Nix, wake up.” a male voice accompanied the sensation.

Keeping her eyes closed, she relied on her body for answers. Warmth and cold returned as she felt a layer of warmth cover her lower body while a breeze touched her face. The same sensation brushed against her face and fearing the fog, her eyes shot open, ensuring she was not disappearing.

Deimos shot back in surprise at Nix’s sudden recovery, the cloth in his hand dropping to his lap. “You are awake.” his bright smile flashed before her eyes, the sight relaxing her.

“What happened?” asked Nix groggily, her hand flying to her head as a deep pulsation set in.

“You need to rest.” Deimos gently pushed her to lie down, and with her head spinning, she let him.

Happy with her response, Deimos picked up the cloth to resume his task. Wetting the edge in the bowl of water next to the bed, he wrung out the excess liquid before pressing it to Nix’s forehead and rubbing it gently. “I am sorry if this hurts, but I thought you would like to be blood-free when you woke up.”

“Blood.” replied Nix, “Why is there blood on me?”

Deimos froze for a second before continuing, hoping Nix did not notice him faltering, but she did. “What happened?”

Deimos sighed, dropping the cloth in the bowl, taking his time to look and reply to Nix.

“Deimos, what happened?” she asked again, her voice filled with dominance. Sitting up, she came eye level with Deimos, their breaths brushing the other cheek, but now was not the time for romantic thoughts. He was hiding something, and she was going to find out what. And after those answers, she will find the ones for why she dreamed of her village being massacred and the man that came with the full moon.

“I have all the time in the world, so make it easier on yourself and tell me what happened.” Nix pointed out while perched against the table, hand on her hips, eagle eyes zoned on Deimos as he still sat on the bed, his gaze on the floor. She could see the wheels turning in his head, wondering if he was coming up with a lie or debating to tell her the truth. The last thing she remembered was their afternoon of fishing and her getting out of the lake before it all went dark. Something terrible must have happened because why did she forget, and why was she covered in blood? Her’s or someone else’s.

“It is not that simple,” answered Deimos, finally looking up at her.

“Make it simple.”

Shuffling around the hay bed to get comfortable, Deimos gave up as he slightly hunched forward, his gaze on Nix. It is now or never since he gave her the magic and saved her life, but would she believe the crazy story? Would she believe there are werewolves, vampires, and other supernatural creatures in the world? Would she believe that he is a God? And would she believe that she is a part of that world now, that she is the first-ever witch created to save the world? Even he found it too crazy, and he is thousands of years old.

“Fine, I will tell you. But I think you need to sit down for this one,” said Deimos.

“I am not doing anything you suggest until you tell me what the hell is happening?” and why she dreamt of the slaughter of her village, Nix wanted to add, but one problem at a time.

“Fine, but I did warn you.” Deimos rose from the bed, making his way to the cloth separating them from the rest of the world. Opening a crack, he spied outside, relieved to see bodies moving about their day and no one listening in. Dropping the material, the sunshine left the small room, casting their figures in an orange haze from the minimal light coming from the cracks in the hut. Turning around, their eyes clashed, Nix silently begging for answers, Deimos looking stern with a hint of guilt. After today, her life is going to change. What she knows about the world will be shaken up and torn away. If she is mentally strong enough? Deimos did not know, but there was only one way to find out.

“Before I start, there is something I need you to know. Having an open mind is essential.” began Deimos, but he was cut short by Nix.

“You should know by now that I am different. It can’t be that bad.”

“Don’t be so sure. The world is far greater than you can imagine. Not just the continents and the people within them but the secret world that lies within them. A world filled with magic and hope, darkness and death.”

Nix relaxed slightly as she folded her arms over her chest, placing all her weight on her hip as she leaned against the table, listening and eyeing Deimos. “Doesn’t sound any different than this world.”

“But it is,” explained Deimos, “Do you really believe that humans are the only species on this earth? That the Gods only created you. They did not. Behind the veil is a whole world filled with supernatural, some the demons of your worst nightmares, while others the good the world needs. The monsters told in your folklore around the fire at night are real, the monsters living even closer than you can imagine.”

Nix tilted her head, a slight smirk present. “And let me guess, they want to kill all humans.”

“Essentially, yes. A war has been brewing for ages between the species, which could end all life, but it does not have to happen. You, Nix, have been chosen to save them and everyone.”

Nix remained silent at Deimos’ confession, her face neutral as she spun around the information in her head.

“Is it too much to take in? I get it, you-” Deimos started but was interrupted by the sudden burst of laughter coming from Nix as she bent over, hands clutching at her stomach.

“You... you think I am the saviour of the world.” Nix laughingly said, “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“You wanted the truth.”

“Yeah, not a fairytale,” replied Nix as she slowly regained her composure. “But seriously, tell me what happened?”

Her response angered Deimos as he stalked Nix, stopping inches from her face. From all the reactions he had prepared for, laughing at him was not one of them. Crying, yes. Hysterical, yes. Anger, yes. But not laughter.

“You want the truth? Here it is. Last night you were attacked by a wolf. And not the species roaming these hills. No, this is a shapeshifter, a human that can transform into a werewolf on will.”

Nix’s eyes grew as he spoke, the look in his eyes keeping her silent.

“But wait, that is not even the craziest part. The blood on you is yours, but how is that possible if you don’t even have a scratch on you?” while speaking, Deimos smiled. He looked like a madman, but this whole situation was crazy. He did not plan on revealing the truth to Nix like this. He wanted to ease her into this world, not push her into the deep end and tell her to swim. “You see, you are meant to save the world, but how can a human go up against werewolves? Well, because you are not a human anymore. As you bled in my arms yesterday, minutes from dying, I gave you a potion made from magic. Magic that saved you and magic currently swimming through your blood, changing you from the inside as it awaits your demands.”

Deimos’ chest heavily rose and dropped as he locked his eyes with Nix, hers following him as she dragged air into her lungs, his words spinning in her mind. Magic, werewolves. Deimos must be crazy, speaking of creatures not from this world. It is impossible to bring the dead back to life or heal oneself from the edge of death. It was all too much to take in. Breaking eye contact, Nix pushed at Deimos’ chest, ignoring the sparks racing up her fingers.

“I need to leave.” began Nix as she headed for the entrance.

“You can’t,” said Deimos as he reached for her, but she spun around, stepping away from his hold, anger flashing on her face.

“Please leave me alone.” The intense stare froze Deimos as he watched her leave. When her body vanished behind the cloth, his muscles relaxed as if a weight had been lifted. Jumping forward, he jerked open the fabric, the sudden light blinding him, but he forced his eyes open as he swept the area looking for Nix. He had just experienced the magic in her being used without her knowledge, and in her emotional state right now, the damage she could unknowingly cause could tear a ripple through this world. She had to be found and taught to control her magic and emotions, for Nix was a weapon waiting to attack.