Gwylan The Curious – DoL

You haven't been the same since your visit from the forest. Gwylan, the witch your temple notoriously has hunted down for many years, had saved you from death.

You still could remember it as clear as day.. how he tended you with genuine care, healing you, hell, even feeding you– and made sure you were well enough before letting you leave his hut to return to your 'home'.

How? Why? Many questions filled your head. He was a witch, and witches were supposed to be vile and cruel heartless monsters, weren't they? Weren't they??

So why.. why was he kind? Why did he help you? Were the things spoken by them lies?

Thousands of unanswered questions ran through your mind, and you felt dizzy. As if something was blocking you from thinking further..

You weren't sure anymore. But you returned to the temple. It was, after all, Your 'home'.

Where else could you go, if not 'home'?

...

The others soon began to notice, too.

Your brothers and sisters of the faith often glanced at you with concern and worry, many whispering amongst themselves.

You weren't sure why you began to doubt. Doubt the temple, doubt your brothers and sisters, doubt.. everything.

Your thoughts turn back to Gwylan. In your memories, you could almost still see him so clearly, with his gentle eyes and warm smile..

You felt an unexplainable sense of warmth. An unexplainable sense of.. comfort. Safety? Something calls for you to return, something calls for you to go back to him. But you weren't sure why.

.... No, no. You could not think this way. Sinful. Blasphemous!

You should focus to serve and follow your duties well. You were a gaoler, from a noble lineage, it would be dangerous for you.

... Yes, it must be right, you had to focus on your duties.

Surely, that witch had bewitched you. Surely, his taint was.. the cause of your doubts.

Right?

...

It was just another day of work, another day of keeping watch of prisoners in the secret dungeon underneath the temple.

You were keeping the torches when the sound of heavy boots on stone echoed through the dungeon. There's only one pair of boots in the whole faith heavy enough to make that specific dirge.

The Bishop's Hand. He was carrying something over his shoulder. A long, limp sack, split at the bottom into two- oh, no.. that's a person. Must be another prisoner.

You were curious. Very curious.

His dark eyes scanned the room, until his eyes landed on you. He held his torch out wordlessly.

You took the outstretched torch, as was expected of you. And he gave you a condescending smirk, you sighed.

You lit the way forward and led him down the cells, passing many filthy cages. The walk was silent, one that felt suffocating. Yet you didn't dare break the silence.

He finally stopped on the ninth cell. You unlocked the cell and entered ahead of him, lighting the dark cell with your torch.

Behind you, the Bishop’s Hand entered and threw the sack down from his shoulder, harshly. You heard what sounded like a cry of pain from the sack, but you only averted your gaze.

This was a normal sight to you, after all. One you've seen multiple times before. Long ago, you would feel empathy and weep for their anguish.

Yet at this moment now? You only felt a cold numbness. As if your humanity was slowly losing it's hold on your soul.

The sack shifted again. The cries becoming louder.

The Bishop’s Hand kicked it with his boot, impatient. “Shut it."

He crouched and seized a fistful of the cloth, yanking it down..

Mousy brown hair spilled loose, fox ears, then a long bushy tail, now matted with blood and dirt. He was badly bruised and injured.. yet you could see the familiar face.

Your breath left you all at once as recognition came to you.

Gwylan. It was Gwylan. They.. caught him.

The Bishop’s hand hauled Gwylan upright by the chains and slammed his wrists into the iron rings.

Gwylan was breathing heavily, he looked very out of it. But he seemed much more conscious than the other prisoners you had to deal with before.

The Bishop’s Hand stepped back, satisfied, and turned to you.

“Forest witch. We finally caught the wicked thing. And he's the last one left to take care of, if the records are right..”

Gwylan’s head lifted slightly at that, yet it looked like he was using every bit of his strength left to do so, narrowing his gaze at the Bishop's hand. Suddenly, his eyes snapped to yours.

... For a moment, he seemed confused. As if he thought you looked familiar, before finally, you saw the recognition in his eyes.

He frowned. Memories rushed into your head.. you remembered his gentle hands, his soft voice, and you Immediately felt stricken with a deep sense of dread and guilt.

The Bishop’s hand's voice snapped you out of it, "You, child, listen well. He's your responsibility to bear now. Personally. Too much of a contamination risk for more than one guard.."

He pauses to point at you. "Make sure he lives, but hates every minute of it. Bring him salvation through suffering. If you show any ounce of mercy, I'll assume he's bewitched you." He then pushed past you, leaving you alone in the cell with him.

You turned to Gwylan, despite his expression being mostly blank and unreadable, deep in his eyes.. you could see the betrayal and hurt that he felt.

"You.."