Tale 86- The Lullaby Witch

 Arriving in the next town, it seemed somewhat familiar to the Traveler, and she wondered if she’d been here before. She found herself by a large field, where a bucket lay, and her feet led her to a home, despite her confusion. It felt familiar, but her head was too clouded by the recent events for her to remember. Her gaze was drawn, however, to a young man, with bright, happy eyes, seeming to carry an air of happiness wherever he went and filling the atmosphere with joy. He waved at her slightly, approaching, and asked if she was new to town, offering to show her around. He then noticed how weary and starved she looked and insisted she come into his home. Alongside his wife, they set up a spare bed and gave her a plentiful meal, allowing her to take any leftovers they had on her travels and giving her the softest quilt they could find in the house. Their kindness definitely reminded her of someone, and the boy seemed to be curious about her too, deciding to tell her of a strange encounter he once had and question whether she knew anything of it, telling the tale of ‘the Lullaby Witch’

‘Years ago, a young boy lived with his mother, a milkmaid, and they shared their home, living comfortably alone as mother and son. She would teach him lullabies and tell him all sorts of fantastical stories, until one day a stranger appeared and offered to help the boy’s mother. At the time, he was merely a child, but could tell the cloaked stranger was a mysterious witch, fascinated yet wary of her all at once. Though she seemed young and kindly, he found himself unconvinced that it wasn’t just an illusion, and remembered how his mother invited the witch in. Though he was tired, he saw her write a lullaby in her spellbook, before the boy fell asleep and dreamed wondrous dreams, probably due to a spell. And when he awoke, the witch was gone.’

He stared at the Traveler, who was trying to piece it together, but it was relatively foggy. Only when she stared into the man’s eyes did she remember that day…before she’d even met Sarafelle. She stared at the man, before giving a small smile. She didn’t want to correct him, but it did make her ponder. Was all life destined to be forgotten eventually? A legacy couldn’t last in collective memory forever, and tales clearly got details incorrect all the time. Was it possible that someday she would be forgotten? Would Sarafelle and Marcielle? Would Calius’s indifferent legacy die out amongst the bravado of his fellow heirs and kings? She wondered to herself for a while, the man deducing it was her once more and giving a small smile, knowing she wasn’t a witch and he was likely just a confused child. As night fell, he showed the Traveler to the same room she’d occupied all that time ago, and she fell into a dreamless, calm sleep, comforted by the thought that she only needed a few more tales.