professional booseoksoon enthusiast

Today was a perfectly ordinary day picking mushrooms until you got too curious.

You've been in these woods hundreds of times. You know not to stray beyond the Outer Creek — the unexplored part of the forest, where dark necromancers and foul beasts are rumored to live. And so for the most part you stayed far away. The only times you'd venture slightly toward the creek are when you were following the fungi — which is how you found yourself much deeper in the forest than you'd planned to be today. But the trail of puffballs was too good to pass up. I'll only go for another half-mile, you told yourself. Then I'll turn back around.

But you got carried away. It wasn't until you were mere feet away from crossing over the Creek that you realized how far you'd gone. You were about to turn back when you spotted a glowing pair of eyes coming from the dense brush ahead. Startled, you freeze, but a fluffy brown house cat appears from the shadows. He sits down, staring at you with his intensely-green eyes.

"Well hello there, friend," you say softly to the sizeable but tame-looking creature. You approach him slowly, as not to startle him. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I could ask you the same," the wind whispers in your ear as it suddenly picks up. making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The voice is clear as day, but there's nobody else in sight.

"Who said that?" you question, looking around carefully.

"It's me," the voice whispers from where the cat was sitting, but when you whip your head back around to where the feline was sitting you find it empty.

"Come and find meeeee," you hear the voice upon the wind again.

"I don't think so," you remark, collecting your mushroom basket and turning right around to head back the way you came, except… You're not entirely sure which way that was now. You're pretty sure it's this way, the way you were headed, but it all looks the same at this point.

"It's this way, of course," the wind breezes by your ear, but something in your gut tells you it can't be trusted.

"Who are you?"you call out.

"Nobodyyyy…." you hear off in the distance behind you. You instinctually turn towards the voice, but now you've gone and got yourself even more turned around.

"It's this way, I promise," you hear from the same direction as before.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't…"

You scan your surroundings one last time. The way the voice is telling you to go is the most logical direction you should head — but you still have an uneasy feeling about it. With a sigh, you take off, hoping you've made the right choice.

You walk for nearly 20 minutes. The voice doesn't speak again, and everything seems to indicate you are going the right way, but you still can't seem to find the main trail. The already-sparse sunlight peeking through the canopy is starting to fade — it is soon going to be dark, and you are lost deep in the forest.

You don't think you've passed the Outer Creek, but with each hesitant footstep you become less and less certain of that. The forest grows dimmer and dimmer, and soon night is upon you. The trees you've known and loved since you were a child no longer seem friendly — they loom tall and ominous above you, shrouding the path ahead in endless shadows, obscuring any sense of direction you had left. Finally, with dread, you admit it: you are incredibly lost.

Soon, the howling begins. It's distant, nowhere near you, but it is wholly unfamiliar — eerie and hollow echoing cries that linger far too long, chilling you to the bone. With every nearby rustle of the brush you brace yourself, expecting some horrible unknown creature to jump out and ambush you at any moment.

It's just the wind, you tell yourself. If something were there it would've attacked you by now. But you cannot be certain — and you can't seem to shake the feeling that you are being followed.

Though you can hardly see, you have a grave feeling you are only going deeper into the unexplored regions. The foliage starts to turn alien — trees larger than you've ever seen before, ambling vines snaking up and around their trunks, as if suffocating them. Brambles in the dense brush keep reaching out as you pass, snagging your dress and forcing you to pause and untangle yourself. To make matters even more terrifying, you start to see strange wooden figures hanging from the trees — bundles of sticks tied together with string to form various shapes. You try not to think about how some of them look… humanoid, like little dolls almost.

Despite everything you trek onward. You swear the howling sounds nearer now. You're nearly about to cry when a low rumble from behind makes all the hair on the back of your neck stand up in a prickle of terror. The approaching footsteps that follow are faint, undetectable if you hadn't been paying attention — but the deep thump, thump, thump, thump resonates through your skull as your heart pounds fearfully in your ribcage. The only thing you have on you to defend yourself is the small foraging knife you use for collecting mushrooms; you grip its wooden handle tight, brandishing the stout blade — a pathetic weapon, but better than nothing… right?

You slowly turn, bracing yourself for whatever horror may jump out at you from any given tree, but you find nothing. Suddenly a grotesque snarl fills your left ear — as if in slow motion, you turn, finding an enormous pair of furious red eyes attached to a gargantuan shadowy figure lunging directly toward you. You throw your arms up, hiding behind them as you brace yourself for the thing to attack you, but the impact doesn't come. You hear it screech, a shrill and awful sound — daring to open your eyes you look up to see a cloaked figure, human-sized, driving a spear into the indiscernible beast. It immediately retreats, scuttling off horridly back into the trees. The cloaked figure starts to turn; you instinctively raise your meager knife — because if they could fend off whatever that thing was then surely they could kill you in a swift second too. But instead you are greeted by a soft face, kind dark eyes looking at you from beneath long straggly waves of black hair. The man sets the end of his long spear onto the ground, carrying it now as a staff.

"It's okay," your savior whispers. He reaches toward you; you instinctively tighten your grip on your knife, raising it in defense, but he gently grabs your wrist, lowering the blade for you.

"Come with me," he orders in a hushed tone. "We're safe for now but it could come back at any moment. Maybe even with a friend or two."

He tugs you along, dragging you hastily through the trees. You know you shouldn't trust a stranger — not out here, especially. But the man did just save your life, and you don't really have much of a choice right now anyway.

"What in the gods' names are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" the man asks as he leads you with purpose. You're unsure where he is taking you, but he is seemingly very familiar with this part of the forest.

"I didn't mean to be. I was picking mushrooms but I got a bit, uh… carried away," you answer, slightly embarrassed. "Next thing I knew I had accidentally crossed the Outer Creek and gotten myself very lost."

"I take it you're from the Southernlands, then."

"Do you mean the Heartlands?" you ask, confused.

"Oh, yes. I've heard that's what they're calling it now."

"What do you mean, 'now'?"

The man turns briefly to look at you, a curious look upon his face.

"I'll explain later," he shakes his head, pulling you along as he picks up speed. "We're almost there, but we must hurry."

"Almost where?"

"My home."

Sure enough, you soon arrive at a small clearing. A humble but cozy-looking cottage awaits you; the man pulls out a skeleton key and quickly unlocks the large wooden door, shuttling you inside.

Whatever you were expecting, the cottage's interior is far from it. It is a small, one-room home, almost cluttered with the amount of tools and trinkets laying upon every surface, but everything seems to belong right where it is. Intricate tapestries adorn the walls, illuminated by the flickering glow of the numerous lanterns hanging from the low ceiling or sat upon a shelf; the furniture all appears to be handcrafted from dark spruce wood, rustic-looking but sanded and polished to near-perfection. A large fireplace stands built into the left-hand wall, its flames wispy and dying but welcoming; past it in the corner is a tiny kitchen with a wood-burning stove and a simple water basin, pots and pants decorating the area as they hang from hooks on the ceiling, surrounded by bundles of fresh drying herbs strung upon thin lines of twine, barrels of fresh-looking fruits and jars of pickled vegetables sitting scattered upon all the tables and counters. On the other side of the cottage sits a large bed, lined with plush pillows and draped with thick woolen blankets; beyond the bed is a massive bookshelf, leather-bound books of all shapes and sizes crammed into every nook and cranny.

"Wow," you whisper as your eyes feast upon your incredible surroundings. "This is so lovely."

"Oh, thank you," the man replies as he locks the door behind him. He sets his staff against the wall and removes his long cloak, hanging it upon the coat rack. As he turns you get a clear look at him: he's much younger than you expected, around your age, and for all the rumors you've heard of the crooked and evil folk who supposedly live out here he looks so… normal.

"Who are you?" you ask as he saunters over to the fireplace, throwing another log upon the dwindling hearth. The flames rise as it catches, radiating warmth throughout the room. You whisk over and kneel before it, warming your cold hands in its heat.

"My name is Hao," he tells you as he fetches a blanket and drapes it around you. You're not that cold, but you welcome its comfort anyway. "And what may I call you?"

Your lips part as you're about to tell him your name, but some small voice in the back of your mind whispers to you: don't tell him.

"You can call me Rosie," you reply. It's not technically a lie — you haven't gone by the old childhood nickname in years, but you figure there's no harm in playing it safe.

"Well, Rosie — you can stay the night here. It's not safe to be out there in the dark. When the sun rises I will lead you back to the creek — you should be able to find your way home from there, yes?"

You nod. "Good," he responds, shuffling past you and into the kitchen. "May I interest you in some stew?"

"Yes, please," you eagerly reply, realizing just how hungry you are by now. A small pot hangs above the stove's flames; he removes the lid, steam filling the air as he dips a long wooden ladle inside, spooning some stew into a ceramic bowl. Its delicious smell hits you as he carries it back into the living room for you, making your stomach gurgle excitedly as he places the bowl into your hands.

"Careful, it's hot."

It is hot, but that doesn't stop you from digging right in. You scarf the whole thing down, graciously accepting seconds when Hao offers them.

"What's it like in the Heartlands?"

He had been silent the entire time you were eating, watching you curiously from the other end of the couch; you were so absorbed in eating that you hadn't even noticed.

"Have you never been?"you ask as you slurp the remaining broth directly from the bowl.

"Not for a very long time," he answers. He speaks casually, but you detect a certain somberness to his words. You want to ask more, but it seems it might be a sore subject, so you don't.

"Um, well, it's pretty nice, I guess," you start. "I run my father's bakery, so I don't have too much free time, but when I do I usually spend it foraging in the woods."

"Like today."

"Yes, exactly. The mushroom trail was particularly good today," you say with a satisfied grin.

"Do others join you?"

"Oh, um, well there's some other foragers in the village, but I prefer to be alone."

"Alone in the woods," he muses. "And you're not scared?"

"Of course not. I know every inch of these woods," you nod confidently. "Well, not these woods," you quickly correct yourself. "The Inner Creek forest, I mean. A lot of people talk, saying that I'm some kind of odd loner for spending all my time in there. But I find it peaceful — I feel very at home."

You're not sure why you're telling him all this, but he's a very an attentive listener. He watches you with interest, his kind eyes resting upon you warmly. He's a stranger, your brain reminds you. You can't trust him. Yet a strange sense of kinship lingers in the air.

"I get it," he nods. "I feel the same way."

You wonder if you should inquire as to what he's doing living all the way out here — it can't hurt to ask, right? But you deliberate for just a moment too long.

"It's getting late," Hao remarks as he glances out the window. "You should get some rest, the walk tomorrow will be quite long."

As much as your mind is racing right now, you are exhausted. The thought of sleeping alone in a stranger's house does make you a bit anxious, but you don't really have any other options.

"You can take my bed," he instructs, gesturing in its direction.

"Oh, no, I couldn't—"

"The linens are fresh. I'm not going to sleep much anyway," he informs you. "I tend to be the most productive in the middle of the night."

You're about to decline again, but what does it really matter anyway? You're going to be unconscious regardless, so safety is a moot point — you might as well be comfortable.

"Okay," you agree with a shrug. "If you say so."

The bed is surprisingly plush. You cozy yourself beneath the sheets, sleepiness quickly washing over you despite your nerves. Your eyes drift closed, and you lay there listening to Hao tinkering with something in the other corner of the cottage; the soft sounds lull you into a trance, and soon you are asleep.

You wake an unknown amount of hours later absolutely freezing.

You tug the blankets all the way up, tucking your chin beneath it as you try to warm yourself, but the cottage air is frigid. Glancing over to the fireplace, you see its embers dwindling, long forgotten by the man aross the room. The only light in the house is the dim glow of the single lit lantern upon Hao's desk where he sits; you can only see the back of his head from here, tilted down between hunched shoulders — but he appears to still be deeply immersed in whatever project he was working on when you fell asleep.

Shutting your eyes, you try your hardest to go back to sleep, but your incessant shivering is unignorable.

"Hao?" you eventually call out quietly into the room. The tinkering stops, his head lifting as he peers over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"I'm cold," you murmur timidly. "Do you have another blanket?"

"Oh," he replies, swiftly rising to his feet. "Of course," he answers as he zips across the room. He retrieves a thick woolen blanket from a large chest and brings it to the bed, unfolding it and gently placing it over you. His hand brushes against your hair as he pulls the blanket up to your face, and you swear it lingers there for just a second too long.

"Thank you," you tell him sheepishly from your cocoon.

"No problem at all." He looks down at you for a moment, eyes tired and dulled, then turns to head back to his desk.

"You should sleep too," you blurt out before he can walk away. He turns back to face you, looking at you curiously.

"You needn't stay awake just because of me." You scoot toward the edge of the bed, making space for him to lay beside you. "I don't mind, really."

He seems to consider for a moment, but without a word he turns and shuffles across the room. Your heart sinks slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed at your perhaps too bold suggestion; but then you hear a soft puff of air, and the lantern upon his desk is extinguished. It's now dark, but you hear approaching footsteps. The blankets lift as he slips beneath the covers, laying himself as close to the edge of the bed as possible.

"You can get comfy," you tell him with a small giggle. "It's your bed after all."

"I am," he lies, resting his head stiffly upon the pillow.

"Alright," you concede. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," he replies softly.

Hao lays there uncomfortably for the next fifteen or so minutes. You've flopped onto your side, your back to him, seemingly asleep — but that's not stopping his mind from wandering. Imagining how soft you'd be in his arms; imagining running his fingers through your hair; imagining your scent lingering upon his skin even after you've left…

Stop it, he tells himself sternly. This was a bad idea…

He's about to give up on sleep and head back to his desk in defeat when you roll over to face him.

"Can't sleep either?" you ask quietly. You gaze up at him — eyes seeming to glimmer even in the darkness. Hao feels a rush of warmth course through his body; he shifts awkwardly, trying to think of anything in the world to stop him from getting aroused right now, but you are a terrible distraction. It's no secret that he's lonely — he loves living alone in the woods, it's a peaceful way of life and he's never been bothered by the lack of companionship. But you looked so pretty out there, so mysterious and alluring that he had to know more — and now here you are in his bed, a beautiful and dangerous temptation laying right there in his reach.

He shakes his head. "No," he answers, looking back up to the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. But it doesn't stop his heart from racing at the mere thought of you. You watch him for a minute; you roll over a little futher, bringing your body just a bit closer into his.

"I'm still a little cold," you say, casually sliding your hand over the mattress toward him. He tries not to read into it, tries not to delude himself — but then he makes the mistake of glancing over at you again. The way you're looking at him right now is undoubtedly sensuous; he met you mere hours ago, and you are already driving him fucking crazy.

"I can get you another blanket—" he starts, moving to get up, but your hand reaches his beneath the covers. He freezes — the coolness of your palm stings tantalizingly against his warm skin as you rest it upon the back of his hand, sending sparks through his veins. He instinctively turns his hand, letting yours slip into his grasp.

"Tell me to stop," you whisper as you intertwine your fingers with his; Hao lets out a sharp exhale.

"Tell me not to do this." You squeeze his hand, holding it tightly. He resists for a moment, his hand limp in yours, and you begin to think you've gone too far — but you let out a soft gasp as he squeezes back, taking your cold hand in his warm one.

"I can't," he responds, turning his head to look at you.

"Why not?" you ask as you brush a few strands of dark hair out of his eyes, running your fingers delicately over his cheekbones. His round, widened eyes peer back at you — eager and desperate.

"I want you to do this," his voice nearly wavers. He reaches for your face, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand as he draws you into him — close enough to feel his breaths falling on your lips. "I want you."

Slowly he drags his lower lip over yours, a shaky exhale hot against the delicate skin making your arms tingle with goosebumps. You waste no time, pressing your lips into his as you grasp at his loose shirt and pull him into you; he begins to kiss you, strong with heated passion like nothing you've ever experienced. He savors you — long, slow kisses that elicit a fire in your belly as his hands wander over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you. His fingertips drift to the side of your thigh, tugging up at the fabric of your skirt, requesting its removal. Your lips part briefly, an excited grin coloring your face as you lift your hips, allowing him to pull your dress up and over your body. He drops it to the floor, eyes widened in amazement at the sight of you before him, in nothing but thin linen undergarments, the sheer fabric only barely obscuring the enticing curves beneath. You pull at his shirt, lifting up to reveal his bare chest and toned stomach as he lets you undress him. Your nipples poke through the thin fabric, erect with anticipation; he runs his fingertips over them, feeling the hardened buds, causing an immediate rush of blood to his cock. He can wait no longer — he pulls your top off of you, your soft breasts falling free.

"So beautiful," he whispers as he takes your breasts in his large hands. He rolls over on top of you, sliding down until his tongue greets your nipple, flicking against it gently.

"Ohhh," you sigh, letting him lap lazily at the perked and pebbled bud. A mess of moans quickly arise from your throat, your body squirming beneath his as he licks incessantly at the nipple. Eventually he takes it between his lips, suckling on it as he kneads at the flesh of your breasts.

"That feels… wow," you exhale, words eluding you in the face of such pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut, head falling back into the pillow as the tip of his tongue dances against the hardened nub. He suddenly switches to the other breast, nipping at the bud gently. You cry out, running your fingers through his long hair and grasping at his head; you hold him in place as he sucks away, your hips rocking as your legs spread open further. The heat of your clothed cunt against his bare stomach only worsens his erection; soon, he is painfully hard, trying not to move as not to cause any friction, but the movement of your hips makes that inevitable. He grinds into the bed, the pressure only making his cock throb against the mattress.

"Gods," he gasps as his mouth suddenly unlatches from your breast, lifting himself off the bed slightly, but you quickly grab at his sides and pull him up. His torso sinks into your body, the weight of his large but slender frame crushing you delightfully. You wrap your legs around his hips, grinding your core against his cock. It feels thick, heavy — and you're certain you've never wanted anything more in your life.

His forehead presses against yours, heaving breaths greeting your face as he locks onto your gaze with burning intensity.

"Let me love you," he whispers. "Please."

You stare longingly up into dark eyes, eyes that stare back at you with all the lust in the world. You've never felt so wanted, so utterly desired with pure carnal instinct; it makes your pussy ache deliciously. You nod, desperately eager — a lazy grin spreads across his face, staring down at you like he could devour you.

You reach for his pants, unfastening them and reaching within. Wrapping your palm around his warm cock, you let out a soft gasp — it's thick, and heavy, its weightiness causing an excited pang in your gut. You pull it out, your hand dwarfed by its size in your grasp. You give him a few strokes, squeezing gently as your hand glides up and down its length, making his eyes roll back into his head. The tip is wet, dripping with precum already.

"Your cock is so pretty," you whisper, eyes locked onto the massive shaft in your hand.

"Don't say things that," he grumbles, kissing you fervently. "I'll fall in love," he murmurs into your lips between kisses.

Soon, he cannot wait any longer. He sits up on his knees, reaching for your underwear and yanking them off of you. You lift your legs, allowing him to pull them up and over your feet, tossing them aside hastily. His hands slide to your inner thighs, spreading your legs, revealing your drenched and eager core. He says nothing, stunned into silence by how pretty you are, mouth agape and salivating at the sight of you.

Without warning he dives face-first into your pussy, making you cry out with pleasure. He laps up your juices with feverous need, savoring your incredible flavor on his tongue.

"Hao," you whine, stroking his hair again as he goes down on you. "Feels amazing…"

His mouth never departs your cunt for a single second, dragging his tongue through your slick folds and slipping it in and out of your hole before moving to your clit. He flicks quickly it over the stimulated bud, incessantly and hungrily, causing a white-hot sensation to burn in your stomach.

"Don't stop," you plead, and he doesn't. The burning sensation builds and builds, making you squirm and whimper as you reach orgasm. As you cum on his tongue he grips your thighs tightly, holding you still beneath him as your legs quiver and your back arches with ecstacy. Sure, you've had orgasms before — but they were nothing like this.

Your squirming begins to slow as you come down from your high. His grasp on your thighs loosens, but he still holds onto them as he lets you finish. Your chest heaves deeply as you attempt to catch your breath, but Hao needs to be inside you now. He crawls on top of you again, face hovering above yours as he takes his cock in his hand, guiding it to your entrance. He presses the head in; it slips in with ease, your soaked hole accepting his cock graciously.

"Ohhh, wow…" you mumble, clinging to his sides as he pushes his length into you. You whimper softly as he fills you up, your walls squeezing tightly around his thickness. His full length now inside you, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he gazes down at you longingly.

"Is this okay?" he asks, making sure you're comfortable.

"More than," you reply, staring up at him with eyes begging him to fuck you — a request he is more than pleased to fulfill. He thrusts into you, slowly dragging his cock out and pushing it back in, reaching depths you didn't know were possible. Your nails dig into his back as his pace begins to increase, gradually at first, but before long he is fully fucking you with uninhibited enthusiasm. Soft groans escape his lips, his eyelids fluttering as he strains to keep his gaze on you. But it feels too good — he dips his head into the crevice of your neck, swirling his tongue over the tender skin before planting his lips into your flesh and sucking on it eagerly while he fucks his cock into you. Nothing in the world has ever felt better than this.

"You feel like heaven," he moans into your neck. "So divine."

Unable to form words, you can only reply by whining pathetically — and it is music to his ears. You drag your nails down his back, scratching him and breaking skin in a way he knows will leave a mark. The thought turns him on impossibly more.

"I'm gonna cum, love," he growls into your ear. "Gonna fill you up and make you mine."

He kisses your cheek, dragging his lips across your face to find your mouth again. He kisses you and kisses you until he can hold off his climax not a moment longer. His lips break free from yours, groaning into your mouth as he releases inside you, cock pulsing as his hot cum spills into your cunt. You whine at the incredible sensation, wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him in as close as physically possible as he cums inside you.

"Fuck," he groans as he finishes, his body slowing and sinking into yours. He's practically squishing you, but you delight in the sensation. You relax your grasp on him, dragging your fingertips slowly up and down his marked back. With a kiss, he carefully pulls his cock out of you, watching as his cum drips out of you all over his bedsheets. He collects it on his fingers as it spills out of you, pushing as much of it as he can back into your pussy. You reach for his wrist, pulling it to your mouth and licking the cum off his hand.

"Gods, you're perfect," he praises as he lays down beside you again. He places slow kisses into the fresh bruises on the side of your neck, his large hand resting on your stomach as it rises and falls with your heavy breaths. You close your eyes, relishing in the sweetened intimacy, savoring the delicate attention as a deep sense of relaxation washes over you.

But before long, the noises begin; it starts with the howling wind, rushing angrily around the cottage exterior; then, the scratching sounds come, as if every tree surrounding the house is trying to break into the walls and snatch you away; but the worst is the growls and snarls — they're distant, and barely audible, but they chill you to the core.

The relaxed state you were in quickly dissipates, your muscles tensing anxiously. Hao notices, lifting his head to look at you.

"Relax, love," he mutters softly, taking your face in his hand and cradling it tenderly. "We're safe in here."

"How can you be so sure?" you ask timidly.

He smiles slighty. It's a knowing smile — but honest. "Trust me," he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I promise."

You nod silently. You do trust him, at least you think. You trusted him enough to let him fuck you, anyway.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. His body is warm — comforting in the same way as sitting beside the gently roaring fireplace. Sleepiness starts to overcome you, but the many questions swirling around your mind are keeping you awake.

"Earlier, you referred to the Heartlands as the Southernlands," you say quietly. "What did you mean by that?"

Hao's sleepy eyes perk open a bit. He gazes at you silently for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

"How do you refer to this region of the forest?" he inquires.

"You mean, beyond the Outer Creek?" You think for a moment. "I suppose there's not a specific name for it. The townsfolk don't like to speak of it, really. The elders simply tell us it's forbidden."

"And what do you know of the Banishing?"

"The Banishing," you repeat. You had learned about it in history studies in school; you don't remember all the details, but you're familiar with the story.

"Well, I know that the Heartlands used to live in harmony with the Outer Creek folk," you begin. "But four hundred years ago, an evil witch who lived out here started practicing dark magic. The practice spread, and eventually the witch had corrupted everyone who lived beyond the Outer Creek. The rulers of the Heartlands feared it would spread — so they banished the Outer Creek residents, forbidding them from ever entering our region of the woods again."

Hao nods slowly. "I see."

"But… I've never heard of the Heartlands having the name of the 'Southernlands'," you add. "I still don't understand that part."

"That's because the history you know of is a lie."

"What?" you ask, giving him a strange look. "What do you mean?"

Hao sighs reluctantly, but he starts to explain.

"You said the Heartlands used to live in harmony with the Outer Creek folk," he repeats your words. "That itself is not a lie, but it's also not the full truth. You see, the Heartlands used to be called the Southernlands, and the Outer Creek region was called the Northernlands. The Northernlands have always been sparsely populated compared to the many towns of the Southernlands — those who lived out here long ago did indeed go to and from the Southernlands, mostly for trade. But your polished history neglects to mention perhaps the most critical part of this story: magic was everywhere. Sorcerers lived in the Northernlands as well as the Southernlands, and mystical beasts roamed freely — magic was as commonplace as your mushrooms after a storm. And there was no such thing known as 'dark magic' — people would seek help from the sorcerers just as they would a healer or a priest, they were trusted and integral members of both societies."

He pauses, letting you absorb his words. You have about a hundred questions, and you don't even know where to begin.

"So… there was no evil witch?" you finally utter.

"Not… quite. There was one sorcerer who was discovered to have given numerous women in the town potions to kill their husbands."

"Oh how awful," you remark, a look of disproval coloring your face.

"That is what most people thought of it, yes. But the sorcerer insisted it was only intended for men who abused their wives. Beat them, screamed at them, threatened them — these women were terrified, and no one else in town would do anything to protect them."

"Oh," you reply quietly.

"The sorcerer maintained that if the husbands weren't taken care of, the women would have been killed themselves," Hao continues. "That it was the only way."

"That still doesn't make murder okay."

Hao nods slowly, but he seems to be in disagreement. "The majority of the town shared that same sentiment. The Council immediately outlawed magic, inciting a witch hunt against anyone who disobeyed. All magical creatures were banished to the Northernlands, and — fearful for their lives — the remaining users of magic soon followed them. The irony is that the Council kept one sorcerer captive to do their biddings — so they could maintain the 'peace'." Hao scoffs slightly. "But it was entirely about control. They forced the sorcerer to cast a spell of protection around the Southernlands, a boundary along the Outer Creek which segregated the Northernlands entirely, so no other sorcerers or beasts could ever return."

"What happened to them?" you ask. "The Council and the sorcerer?"

"Eventually they got old and died. The sorcerer vanished, presumably fleeing to the Northernlands to rejoin the others — and the spell behind the barrier was lost. But by that point nearly 100 years had passed. The banished sorcerers and creatures continued to keep to themselves beyond the Outer Creek, never to return. Eventually the history was forgotten — the Southerlands had long since rebranded to the Heartlands, and those old enough to remember the Northernlands had all died by then. The tale lived on only in stories, but those stories became nothing more than distant myths."

You're exhausted, but your mind spins with questions and more questions. One in particular stands out to you, though.

"So why do you live out here?" you ask, a deep yawn overtaking you.

"Well now that's a long story," he chuckles back, clearly equally as tired as you. "But it's getting quite late — I'll tell you in the morning."

He leans in, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Get some rest, darling."

You wake the next morning to an empty bed.

Your eyes slowly flutter open to unfamiliar scenery. You blink, looking around for a moment, before you remember where you are.

Hao's cottage looks rather different in the serene glow of the little sunlight that can reach through the thick canopy. Without the warm luminance of the many lanterns, the cottage has a colder feel to it — but not necessarily in a bad way. The clutter is more apparent in daylight, odds and ends stacked in every possible nook and cranny, giving it a strange and mysterious air that wasn't present before. Also not present is Hao — you scan your sleepy eyes across the small home, but it is still and silent and lifeless.

You wait a few minutes, remaining patiently beneath the covers. A few minutes pass, and you wait a few more — but he doesn't return. A bad feeling starts to arise in your gut. Where did he go? Did he abandon me? What if he never comes back??

Fear begins to flood your veins. You can sit around no longer — you quickly hop out of the bed, scurrying to get dressed and gather your belongings and leave before it's too late. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears as you rush toward the door; you grab the handle, swinging the heavy wooden door open — and come face to face with Hao.

You jump at the sight of him. He looks startled, and then concerned.

"Rosie? What's the matter?"

You freeze, staring up at him like a frightened deer.

"Are you alright?" He looks down at you, spotting your cloak on your body and your belongings in tow. "Are you leaving?"

"I— I thought you left," you stammer softly. "I got scared, I don't know…"

He lifts his arm, showing you the small basket resting over his wrist. In it are an assortment of herbs and a few handfuls of berries.

"I was just in the garden," he explains. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. Here—" he says as he steps across the threshold. His body is now terribly close to yours, causing an anxious pang in your stomach. "Let me make us some tea and breakfast."

You quickly take a small step back, lest he lingers a moment too long. Not that you would mind it…

He shuts the door behind him as he walks to his kitchen. You stand there for a moment, still considering running for it, but you figure a bit of breakfast wouldn't hurt. You still have a long journey back, after all.

As you put your things back down, Hao puts a small pot of water on to boil and then returns to the herbs, sorting and pruning them before tossing them into the pot as it begins to bubble. He unwraps the cloth off of a loaf of bread, gently cutting it into thick slices.

"Baked it yesterday," he tells you over his shoulder. "It's quite fresh. Though might not be so impressive to a professional baker," he adds lightheartedly.

"I'm sure it's delicious," you smile as you head over to the table. He serves you the bread with freshly-churned butter and an array of delicious-looking jams, accompanied by this morning's pick of berries and the piping hot tea. The tea's aroma is inviting; you gently blow into your cup as you take a small sip, finding it tastes as lovely as it smells.

"I must thank you for your kindness," you tell him as you spread some blackberry jam across your slice of bread. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't scared off whatever that was last night. And you've been more than generous to me with… everything." Memories of your intimacy last night begin to flutter through your mind; you do your best to ignore them — a task easier said than done.

"Of course," he smiles at you softly. "I'm more than glad I could help."

You sip your tea in silence for a few minutes, musing in the silence about the tales he told you last night. It all seems too impossible — but what reason would he have to lie to you?

Hao seems to be able to read your thoughts. "I understand the stories I told you last night may be difficult to believe."

"I believe you," you tell him. It's mostly true, anyway. "It's just… so much to think about."

You let out a small yawn, your eyelids drooping slightly. The warmth of the tea is starting to make you sleepy again. Unsurprising, given how little you actually were able to rest last night.

"I don't understand why they kept this from us though," you comment.

"The truth can be difficult to swallow," Hao replies with a shrug. "Sometimes the lies feel safer."

You yawn again, bigger this time. Your eyes suddenly feel quite heavy — your cup still has some tea in it, but you return it to its saucer. Best not get too sleepy before you have to go.

"You haven't told me why you live out here, yet," you tell him. Your tired eyes lose focus for a moment; you blink a few times, but the image of Hao before you is still a bit blurry. You press your palm into your forehead as it begins to throb achingly.

"Are you alright?," Hao asks, staring at you with concern. "You don't look so well."

"Yeah," you mumble. "I'm fine, I just…" Your head aches as the room around you wobbles a bit, then begins to spin.

"Rosie?" Hao asks, rising from his seat and catching you just in time before you collapse.

Your ears ring loudly. Faintly and far in the distance, the last thing you hear is him asking "Rosie, can you hear me? Rosie!"

The room goes dark around you, and you are now unconscious.

You wake to the cottage dim and shadowy again. You try to sit up, but can't — your body feels stiff and leaden. A soft groan escapes you; you can't see clearly, but you detect sudden movement in the near distance — a figure rushing toward you.

"Rosie!" Hao's voice calls out as he kneels beside the bed. He holds your heavy head in his hands as your eyes slowly focus on his soft features. "You passed out hours ago, I was so worried."

"What time is it?" you mumble, trying to get out of the bed. "I have to go home—" But you sit up too fast; head spinning dizzily, you fall back into the mattress.

"You're in no condition to travel," he tells you, brows furrowed with worry. "Please, take it easy, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"What happened?" you ask him, rubbing your temples to sooth your aching head.

"You collapsed at breakfast," he answers, rubbing your arm softly. "You've been unconsious since then." He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. "You feel feverish — you must rest."

You shift back into the pillows, laying down again. You cover your face as tears begin to well in your eyes, quietly starting to cry.

"Hey, hey," Hao softly soothes you, holding you gently in his hands. "I'm going to take care of you, I promise. You're going to be alright."

He crawls over you to lay beside you on the bed. He takes you in his arms, cradling your head against his chest. His heart beats softly in your ear — you find it calming. You sink into his grasp, letting him hold you as close to him as physically possible. Laying there for several minutes in silence, you calm down again. You feel safe here; as long as you are with Hao, nothing can ever happen to you.

Hao watches you intensely. Your beauty is intoxicating; he doesn't know how he can ever let you go.

You feel his gaze on you, but you don't mind one bit. You fiddle with the hem of his top, lifting it slightly to expose his stomach. You press your hand against the warm skin, gliding your palm up and into his shirt. He lets out a huff of laughter; you glance up at him, meeting his eyes that remained fixed on you.

"You really know how to drive me crazy," he mumbles, planting a kiss into your forehead. His hand drifts to your hip, rubbing you through your dress and not-so-subtly squeezing at the flesh of your ass.

"Sorry," you tell him with a smile. He leans in, kissing your lips this time.

"Don't be."

He gathers the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up above your hips to expose your core. His fingertips flirt with the hem of your underwear, brushing against the soft skin of your stomach.

"Is this okay—"

"Yes," you immediately answer, nodding excitedly. He smiles, slipping his hand beneath the fabric, the pads of his fingers dipping into your heat. You sigh, relaxing as he touches you, gently circling around your clit. His movements are slow, but you quickly become aroused; your chest rises and falls with deep breaths as you can't help but squirm against the bed. He pushes one finger into your hole, eliciting a small whine from your throat. He pulses it in and out slowly, but your hips begin to rock restlessly.

"More," you whisper, staring up at him with aching need. He slips a second finger in, pushing them in as deep as he can. As he fucks you he curls his fingertips, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body as he easily reaches your most sensitive spot.

"Oh my gods…"

"You're so pretty," Hao murmurs as he leans in to kiss you. His lips tug hungrily at yours as he fucks his fingers into you, his tongue eventually slipping into your mouth to taste you fully. Your moans drift into his mouth, turning him on immensely. He works in and out of your cunt, your juices coating his hand as you drip with arousal. He recalls the sweet flavor of your pussy from last night, and he simply has to taste you again. He pulls his fingers out and lifts them to his lips, shoving them in his mouth and sucking your juices off — delicious, but he's nowhere near satiated.

"You're incredible," he praises as he quickly takes his place between your legs, yanking your underwear off with urgent haste. Immediately his mouth is on you; he flattens his tongue, licking a thick stripe over your slit. You bunch your skirt up in your hands, making sure you can enjoy the view — and gods is it a sight to see. Hao's tongue dances around your folds with expertise, lapping up the incessant wetness dripping from your core.

"Never tasted anything better," he mumbles into your pussy.

With that he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently as his fingers take their place inside you again. The pressure against your g-spot combined with the delicate suction upon your stimulated bud kindles a fire in your gut, overwhelming pleasure building and burning white-hot throughout you whole body.

"Hao," you whine, trying to tell him how good it feels, but your release quickly overtakes you. You cum on his face and fingers with an explosion of blissful moans, his name slipping out a few more times in a way that makes his cock throb.

You brush your fingers through his hair as he releases your clit. He carefully retrieves his fingers from inside you, licking the glistening wetness off his hand; he then returns to your cunt, dragging his tongue slowly as he wastes not a single drop of you.

"Kiss me," you mutter softly. He flicks his tongue against your hole for a few more seconds before rising, crawling up to you and pressing his lips into yours. His cock is hard, straining against the fabric of his pants and forming a heavy bulge. You reach for it as he kisses you, stroking his length slowly through the thick canvas, making him moan into your mouth.

"Please fuck me," you beg quietly against his lips.

"Of course, darling," he mumbles through another kiss.

You make quick work of removing his pants, freeing his stiff cock, running your thumb over its reddened, leaking tip. He does not bother to fully undress; in the blink of an eye he is rubbing the head over your pussy, wetting it and making you whimper at the stimulation to your still-throbbing clit.

"Need to feel you," you groan quietly, wriggling your hips as you try to lower yourself onto his cock.

"My baby's so needy," he hums, his dark eyes staring down at you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Without warning he slips it inside you, making you whine sharply, a pleasurable sensation of fullness overcoming you as he sinks his full length deep into your cunt.

"Never wanna leave this perfect pussy," he mutters into your ear, nipping at your earlobe gently as he begins to drag his cock back out, nearly all the way, then plunging into you again. You let out a loud moan, and he's certain he could cum from the sound alone. He pumps his cock in and out, trying his hardest to go slowly, but the sensation of your walls squeezing against him tightly is overwhelmingly divine.

"More," you plead, gazing up at him with watering eyes.

"You want more, baby?" he croons, fucking you faster now.

"Yes," you moan desperately.

"Gonna fill you up, darling," he promises as he grabs your thighs, lifting them up and over as he practically folds you in half. His cock can reach even deeper now, flooding your eyes with tears at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Tell me you want my cum," he orders sweetly.

"I want it," you whine.

"Tell me this pussy is all mine."

"It's yours, baby."

"Good girl," his voice rumbles, low and husky through his heavy breaths. He gut burns with desire, his release imminent. A few more powerful thrusts and his climax overtakes him, his body stilling except for his pulsing cock spilling his cum inside you and his chest that heaves with racing breaths.

"Fuck," he groans, cock throbbing with a final few bursts of hot white ropes. "Fuck, your pussy is so good."

He catches his breath, slowly pulling his cock out of you, careful not to let his cum spill onto your dress. He fetches a towel, quickly cleaning you off before climbing back into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace.

You lay there in silence, thinking. You feel Hao's gaze locked onto you; lifting your head you greet him face-to-face, finding intensity in his eyes but also softness.

"What are you thinking?" you ask him softly, running your hand beneath his shirt to grasp at his waist. He stares at you curiously for a moment, but then he shakes his head.

"Nothing," he tells you, planting a kiss on your forehead. "You should really get some rest, we'll need to leave at the break of dawn to get you back safely."

You know he's right, but your heart still sinks.

"What if I don't?"

His head tilts, brow furrowing at you with confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asks softly.

"What if I want to stay here with you?"

His eyes darken, but he just shakes his head. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling seemingly deep in thought.

"It's too dangerous," he says quietly. "There's nothing here for you."

"There's you," you tell him quietly, brushing your fingertips against his hand. He seems to stiffen — an unexpectedly cold gesture.

"Don't say that to me," he grumbles, averting your gaze.

"Why not?" you ask, tracing light circles onto the back of his hand.

His jaw clenches for a moment.

"Because," he sighs. "I'd let you stay. Forever, if you asked."

Your palm drifts to his torso, resting your hand atop his stomach.

"Maybe that's what I want."

He shakes his head. "I can't let you do that, Rosie. I'm sorry."

You lay in silence for a minute or so. The terrible sounds from out in the woods have begun again, furious winds against the cottage's exterior that perturb you, animalistic howling that chills you to your core.

"My name isn't actually Rosie," you tell him quietly. He perks up slightly, but still doesn't look at you. "I have been called that before — it was an old childhoodhood nickname. I was known for stealing flowers from every garden in town, the neighbors did not appreciate it one bit," you smile. "But my name is really y/n."

"Why are you telling me this now?" he questions.

"You were a stranger deep in the dark woods, and I was scared. I wasn't sure if I could trust you before," you admit.

He rests his hand atop yours, rubbing your skin softly.

"And what makes you think you can trust me now?"

It is uttered barely more than a whipser, but your stomach drops.

"W-what?" you stammer, your heartbeat beginning to accelerate in your chest. He slips his hand into yours, fingers intertwining as you lay there, frozen with anxiety.

You think back to how you got here in the first place: the mysterious cat, the voice in the wind leading you astray. All of it suspicious, sure, but you hadn't really given it much thought before — you were a bit busy trying not to get killed, and then spending intimate time with Hao…

"It was you," you say to the man laying beside you, voice small and shaky as the realization sinks in. "You led me astray."

"Beautiful and smart," he says calmly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. He turns his head, greeting you with those dark eyes that pierce right into your soul. "Yes, it was me. I lured you in the wrong direction."

You stare back at him, frightened and enamored and feeling all sorts of conflicting emotions that shouldn't go together.

"Why?" you finally ask, the word whispered faintly as you remained trapped in his alluring gaze.

Hao looks at you as if deep in thought, staring back silently for a few moments.

"I'm not entirely sure," he admits at last. "You just were so beautiful out there — strolling through the woods lithely, foraging your mushrooms without a care in the world. I simply had to know more."

"But… how did you even do that? The voice in the wind, I mean. It called to me, almost as if by magic—"

You stop, horror washing over you as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly all clicking into place in your head. There was only one reason why anyone would be living this deep in the woods in the first place, and you cannot believe it didn't dawn on you sooner.

"You never told me why you live out here," you utter cautiously under your breath. Hao smiles softly, though it is a somber smile.

"I knew you would figure it out before long," he says, releasing your hand in favor of cradling your face in his palm. His touch is warm against your cool skin, yet you shiver. "I live here because I was banished those 400 years ago — all for the crime of seeking justice when no one else would."

Your eyes widen. You had already figured he was one of the magic-users of the old tales, but justice? That can only mean…

"You're the evil witch?!" you stammer in disbelief.

"Sorcerer, darling," he corrects. "We prefer the term sorcerer. As for evil… well, that's all a matter of perspective, isn't it?"

"So you're the one who poisoned all those people," you say, glowering back at him. "I'd say murder is pretty evil."

"I never harmed anyone who didn't deserve it," he says calmly, but you can tell a deep, honest anger is stewing within him. "Those people who received the unfortunate potions were worthless bastards, violent, abusive drunks who treated their wives and children like they were worthless — men that were truly the scum and filth of society."

He pauses, heavy breaths escaping him in his resentment. He stares past you now, his mind hundreds of years in the past.

"I ran the town's apothecary shop. People came to me for all sorts of reasons, seeking everything from common cold cures to tinctures that could calm their nerves. But soon I came to realize a disturbing trend: many women would come in bearing injuries, claiming them to be from household mishaps. But I saw the fear in their eyes — these were no accidents. I mended their wounds and sent them on their way, but I hated that there was nothing else I could do. One very late night a woman actually came to my home, banging on back door and sobbing inconsolably. She had the worst bruises I'd ever seen, accompanied by a broken rib and a wholly shattered spirit. Her husband had very nearly killed her, and she came to me in search of anything that could ease the pain — but I had seen enough. I gave her a small vial and told her to slip it into her husband's coffee; he died the very next day of heart failure. Nobody suspected a thing. Other women came started visiting me, looking for solutions to problems of their own. I was discrete, treading with caution as not to draw attention to myself. Nobody could prove a damn thing, but the town council had always had it out for me. One day a councilman was bucked off his horse and trampled to death; I had nothing to do with that, but they blamed me anyway. Said I placed a curse on him — trust me, if I had thought of that I would've done it sooner." His jaw clenches, tensed by the sour memories. "Never liked him anyway."

Your head spins as you process Hao's words. He admits he killed all those people, and you fucking slept with him. The thought makes your stomach curdle. But if what he says is true, you're not sure if you can really blame him.

"So, they banished you."

"They gave me one of two options: immediate banishment, or being hung at the gallows." He lets out a single huff of a laugh. "Some options, really. Anyone else who was known to have ever so much as attempted to conjur a spell was banished alongside me. Many were angry with me, while others sympathized. But regardless, we all set out for the deep woods of the Northernlands. A new village was formed, but I stayed out here, far from the others. Figured it was for the best that I kept to myself from then on. They went on with their lives, but eventually most of them grew old and died."

"But not you," you say quietly.

"But not me."

"So, you're immortal then."

He shakes his head. "Not quite. But I certainly have a much longer lifespan than the others. As far as I know, there may be a few still out there, but we all keep to ourselves now."

"But, how??"

Hao turns to you, a sly grin appearing on his face.

"Magic, my love."

You lay in silence together for a few minutes. Hao still holds your hand, and for reasons you can't explain, you let him.

"I have one more question," you eventually speak. "Did you drug me this morning?"

Hao is silent, but that's enough of an answer for you.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep. Hao doesn't sleep a wink.

You wake at the brink of dawn at Hao shaking you gently.

"Y/n, wake up."

"Hmm?" you question, popping one eye barely-open.

"You have to leave."

You yawn, not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed. "Right now?"

"Yes, right away."

He pulls the covers off, the coldness of the cottage hitting you abruptly. Reluctantly you allow him to help you up; he hurriedly fetches your boots and cloak.

"Why the rush?" you inquire as you lace up your shoes. Rising to your feet again, he wraps your cloak around you, unanswering. He walks you to the door, handing you your basket of puffballs.

"Hao—" you start, but he shakes his head, opening the door escorting you out.

"Go," he speaks quietly, staring solemnly down at the ground. "Before I try and stop you."

"How will I—"

"You'll know the way," he cuts you off. "Just follow your instincts."

He starts to shut the door, but you reach up and stop it before it closes.

"How can I ever find you again?"

He looks up, gazing back at you through the slim crack in the doorway.

"You shan't," he answers.

"Well I'm going to," you reply, refusing to accept that you will never see him again. He smiles sadly, but says nothing else. The door shuts, and you are once again alone in the woods.

You try not to cry as you start off through the trees again. You don't really know where you're going, and the forest's canopy is too dense for you to tell from where the sun is rising; but through the softly filtered dawn light, you set off in the direction that feels the most like south.

You walk for ten minutes or so in nearly complete silence. There is no breeze, no birds singing; no other signs of life to be seen.

Probably for the better, you think to yourself, remembering the fright you felt two nights ago as you were stalked by the mysterious beasts. But just as the thought passes through your mind, your ears tingle at the rustling coming from the nearby brush. You freeze, unsure if you should be still or simply run for it, but the creeping fear rising in your gut has your feet seemingly glued to the forest floor. You stare at the bush; whatever is in there seems small, but that doesn't necessarily quell your anxiety. Suddenly a pair of glowing eyes appears through the leaves, followed by a small furry creature pouncing out before you. You jump, but recognize the soft brown fur as your feline friend from before.

"Hey there," you say to the familiar animal, leaning down to pet it. "You almost scared me, cat."

The cat rubs against your legs, circling you a few times before heading off in a slightly different direction than you were headed. You watch it walk away, but after a few meters it stops, turning back around to stare at you. The cat makes no sound, but its eyes gaze at you intensely, as if saying follow me.

And so you follow after the cat through the woods. You walk and walk, eventually starting to wonder if it were a mistake to blindly follow after an animal, but soon the familiar sound of gently-flowing water pricks against your ears. Sure enough, a few moments later the Outer Creek comes into sight. You rush towards it, grinning ecstatically as your home forest comes into view. The cat stops before creek, sitting next to a sequence of large rocks you can easily use to hop across the water.

"Thank you," you say to the creature, kneeling down to pet it. It purrs gently, then with a swoosh of its tail knocks your basket out of your hand.

"Hey! You troublemaker," you say to the cat as you scramble to grab your mushrooms before they fall into the creek, but it's already prancing off. As you return the puffballs to the basket, a brief glimmer of something shiny at the bottom catches your eye. You reach in, hand closing around something small and metallic; as you pull it out you realize that it is a compass. It looks antique, with ornate designs etched into its polished gold exterior, but something seems slightly off about it. You rise to your feet again, turning in a circle and watching the needle swivel in a direction that is not north; instead, it points back into the forest — pointing in the direction you just came from.

Standing there at the edge of the brush is the cat. It watches you with a familiar gaze, staring at you knowingly. You grin softly, tucking the compass into your coat pocket for safekeeping. The cat watches as you hop across the stones in the river, making it safely to the otherside — home at last.

You look back at the cat one final time. It watches you for a few more moments, as if saying goodbye, then turns, disappearing into the dense foliage once again.

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