Much time had passed before she could once again open her mind to reality—bandages wrapped around her arms, legs, torso, and forehead. A heavy bedsheet was draped over her emitting a warm yet firm hug. She attempted to move, but all of her limbs simultaneously protested. Stinging burns reminiscent of being branded were felt everywhere. The bottoms of her feet appeared to be the worst of it. The pain alone told her she wouldn't be walking anytime soon. As she adjusted herself more comfortably, the memories were pouring back in, the door, the fire, the fear. But among those flashbacks, she noticed something different. In the background of the roaring flames, she remembered an unfamiliar tune coming from an unknown source. It sounded like a flute. Its musical notes were upbeat and high. But even so, it was somehow still unnerving. The song persisted as the rest arose. She thought back to her poor baby sister losing her mind before passing away, after which the music grew louder. Ruth moved forward. She tried, attempted, endeavored, struggled, and strove to stop her. To prevent, halt, impede, and preclude her from walking back into the death she'd escaped. But just a fingers-length away, she slipped from reach. After the scene finished playing in her mind, she wouldn't move. Laying on her aching back, staring into the wooden ceiling. Will, life, soul, happiness, and every possibility of such was gone from her eyes. Her singed hair was splayed along the pillow cascading over the edges like tree roots. Strangely enough, she couldn't remember ever seeing trees before, except in books. Everything to her was grassy hills and the village. She wanted to mourn, to grieve, to bewail, to deplore. But no tears would come. Crying took away the pain, relieved the stress, expressed the heart's sorrows. It felt better than naught. Such relief was rejected, pushing her further into suffering. She closed her eyes and relaxed her tensed face. Taking on a melancholic aura, she forced her mind to shut off. Blocking out all noise and feelings, she visualized herself in a dark void, floating among the vast nothingness. Here she rested, no dreams, no memories, no pain, no resentment, no confusion or grief. All peace and calm were instantly shattered when the door opened. Eyes shooting open, she searched around the room. It was dark now, and the ceiling was no longer illuminated by the light's rays. The door closed nearby, but she couldn't pinpoint the noise. She regretted not memorizing the layout before falling asleep. A small chair was pulled up to her bedside. Looking over, she tried to see, but her eyes were too strained to turn for so long. Blurry, the figure sitting in the chair, was very dark. They were outlined with a black silhouette that revealed not even their body proportions. "Hello." The figure suddenly spoke. A small childish voice was not what she expected. From what she gathered, it was a little boy, but something about how he said 'hello' was not anything like how a child spoke. It was too clear and concise, too easily understandable, too adult-like to belong to a kid. She frowned, furrowing her brow and further impaired her vision. He didn't move, and she found it increasingly unsettling to be near him. "Mayhaps you're confused, little one." He spoke again. "Why don't we talk about names?" He paused briefly. "To begin with, I'd like to ask your name?" Everything about this kid felt wrong. He talked like he was older, even she hadn't mastered a language such as this. "I see. I do suppose asking a name without first giving yours can be considered rude in some places." He went on despite her silence. Even if her throat could make noise, she still wouldn't have told him. He smiled sincerely, which would've melted hearts had he not been acting so strange. "My name, my name, my name, my name, my name, my name, my name, my name. Ahah! That's right. My name." A long quiet followed.

"Silence, among the dead.

Voices, among the living.

Hatred, among the saints.

Love, among the sinners.

Birds, among the trees.

Fish, among the water.

Dragons, among the sky.

Safety, among the hidden.

Danger, among the valiant.

Strength, among the wounded.

Weakness, among the capable.

Purity within the wyrm.

Abuse, among the loved.

Peace, among the wicked.

Evil, upon the world."

"My name is that of thousands. I am silent. I am a voice. I hate, I love, I listen to the birds, I catch the fish, I know the dragons, I knew safety, I know the danger, I am strong, I was weak, I am pure, I know peace. I am evil. I am the world. My name is Pan." After his lengthy introduction, a feeling of foreboding ran down Aislene's spine. Her bones shook, her muscles tensed, her skin seethed, while her mind feared. "Aislene, my dear. Fear is the root of all that is bad. Why are you afraid?" Every signal of danger was going off. The instincts to run and fight were wrestling with each other. He somehow knew her name. This fact alone was terrifying. She couldn't protect herself. This person was a threat. His aura was so intensely suffocating, every inch of her body felt the pressure. Only someone mad wouldn't fear nor notice the difference in strength. This was not a child. This was a monster. A monster wearing the voice of something that was meant to be harmless, a source of warmth in the world, a blessing to parents, a kind, loving, and innocent little boy. But nothing like this should exist. "Ah, forgive me, little one. It seems I neglected to notice your injuries. How callous of me. I am indeed regretful." Sweet words didn't hide the malicious intent behind his facade. "You shouldn't worry; I'd never think of hurting you. In fact, I alone in this world would be the last to hurt you. Know this little one. I love you very much. I love you so much. I love you more than that excuse of a mother. I love you more than that bastard father. I love you more than your scummy little sister ever did. Or perhaps, maybe not. That is, of course, why you are as you are now." The confusion was at first what she felt. She reasoned through his words to find the meaning. He had such a roundabout way of communicating. He said the opposite of what he meant was not what he wanted you to think. But as she broke it down, she realized what he had said. An instant later, she leaped at him. Hands gripping his tiny little neck, she attempted to strangle him. Her body quietly disapproved. The pain was pushed behind rage, adrenaline, grief, and hatred. If Ruth was the reason she is hurt as she is now, that means the house did not catch fire. It was set aflame. The little boy blamed Ruth for the injuries he caused. He was vile and wicked. He was evil. He needed to die. Pushing her nails in deeper, she silently screamed as she put every ounce of strength into suffocating him. But looking closer, she saw his face. A malicious, creepy grin faced her. He had big brown eyes and dark brown hair. He certainly looked young, yet he didn't feel young. He didn't move to stop her. He didn't struggle. He didn't fight back. He just laid there on his back as life was being sucked out of him. Just as the light in his eyes was fading, Aislene hesitated. She let up the slightest amount. As she did so, the world literally turned upside down. Instead of on top and choking him, her hands were instantly pinned down above her head while he was now on top. "That was an amazing little one. Truly beautiful, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me see it twice." He spoke confusing words that she couldn't decipher. He grinned once more before the weight was suddenly lifted off. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. She didn't move. She didn't care. He was gone. Ruth was gone. The only thing she ever loved was taken away, and by someone so impossibly strong, revenge was a dream that died the moment she let up her grip. Sitting up, the pain returned with a fury. Wincing, she examined the injuries suffered. A window opposite of her bed made a banging sound. She looked up to see what it was. Horror and regret followed the glance. Hanging outside the window, was two bloody corpses strung up by a noose. Everything about them was completely gored and bloody, except their faces. The obvious faces of her mother and father. She tried to run out the door but tripped and fell over herself. Struggling up, she turned the door handle and found herself in an unfamiliar hallway. Wandering on through the house until she eventually found the front door. Feeling the heat as she got closer, she warily opened it to find fires everywhere. Every house in the village was up in flames, the stores, the homes, the fields, the world was painted red. Getting outside, she looked up into the sky to see hundreds of bodies hanging from nooses. Thousands of birds, every kind of bird she knew and others she didn't, were holding the ropes and dangling the people like trophies. She fell to her knees with tears in her eyes. Staring up, she found him among the chaos. Pan lounged in the sky while he was intensely looking at Aislene. They held eye contact before his face contorted into a twisted smile. Soon after, the bodies began to drop one by one. Left alone in among her burning world, the sky rained corpses. Tears of sadness, anger, hatred, love, fear, determination, and despair fell freely while a soft, upbeat flute played in the background.