Look at them!

  Look at my children!

  You won't find more beautiful trolls this side of the moon!

  ***

  Ba-dump.

  The morbid beating of the heart awakens me. Fleeting figures and blurry colors fill my vision; joyful, dissonant songs ripple through the air. Memories slowly return, but my body refuses to obey me. Guards grab me by the arms, one hand has claws, and the other is covered with a shell. Chimeric and horrendous abominations, species agglutinated to each other by vines and plant parasites. My legs crawl along the floor, numb. My skin burns.

  Something's wrong.

  Ba-dump.

  The pulse reaches my ears and resonates through my organs. I feel my insides move like snakes. Contaminated tissues, regenerated, glued to each other so that they do not rot. I feel branches and leaves, joy and fleeting fun.

  At the edge of the horizon, the presence of the tumor that sickens the earth extends kilometers above the ground. A large reddened and rotting tree corrupts the surrounding environment. Dead, without leaves or fruits, harsh and dry as a desert, stealing the nutrients of the soil to reproduce and parasitizing the corpse of an unrecognizable creature; its bones wriggle and create walls that delimit the central territory of the Queen.

  Wander and Nia. I hear their voices in the back of my mind, dragged to a place free of all evil. Space stops importing. Geography is manipulated as an artist paints a picture. Mountains are raised and destroyed, the Earth changes according to the beauty of the Mother Tree. The closer, the farther, until inevitably I am swallowed by greatness and glimpse the bowels of dominance.

  Look, look!

  Hundreds and hundreds more slaves and warriors greet giant sweets; living cards play while wasps drink tea, incantations and poisons gush through the air. Honey guts are torn from the belly of happy traitors, smiles of amusement conflict with those of pain. Witches hum and change day to night, spells and magic unite symbols with euphoria. Hellish comedy descends into the underworld, laughter so loud it makes throats explode.

  How beautiful my children are! How beautiful they are!

  Animals. The cadaverous odor soaks the mouths of a thousand predators, lions large as houses and spectral lizards. They dress like nobles, obey and revolt, geysers of boiling milk steam their subordinates. From the green land that is not green, sweet buns rain from the horizon that cannot be seen. Trolls and ogres lurk, enraged orcs sleep on the piles of golden droppings. Carnivorous plants and dryads, fairies who play to tear off the wrapping of still living beings.

  You will not find children as beautiful as these!

  Everyone knows what there is, what name to sing, colors define their macabre task, everyone ignores them because they already know where to stay. The iridescent does not lie or get confused, giant lollipops impale and create slurry. Elements and magic, spells and witchcraft; a glimpse of hell, comic and sincere, procreate, drink, eat and kill. Repeat, repeat, until there's nothing left;

  Until I find the Mother Of All Monsters.

  Not on this side of the Moon!

  Hilda.

  The light pierces the darkness of the abyss, and terror returns me to sanity. My consciousness returns from the fever dream that was engulfed, but every cell in my body screams for me to return. He tries to do as much as he can to survive and escape the situation, but unable to do so, prefers to die anesthetized.

  Honey drips from my forehead and falls like sweat. The songs die, silence is crowned the successor Prince, but his mother would not allow him to take over.

  Hilda sits on a makeshift throne of the same roots that pierce her flesh. Large butterfly wings assimilate into the same wood that twists to accommodate her as master and slave. A gold crown too big for her head hangs to the side, wishing for her fall.

  Naked, the fairy's skin is snow-white and shines almost as bright as the sun. Her body looks fragile like a doll made of glass, slender and thin as a toothpick, gnawed and bloody fingers complement the amber gaze that stares at me. Lively, curious, unbalanced. If it were not for her stature, I would say that she is a young teenager like me; and around her, hair made of silver surrounds the girl and scratches her with millimeter spikes.

  Ba-dump.

  Finally, in her open chest, her heart beats and brings dying life to the Mother Tree, surrounded by the displaced ribs that hold the organ like a cage.

  I inspire. My arms finally realize that there is no one holding them. I press my body against the floor and stagger to my feet. When my touch adapts, the pains of battle return all at once, as if my body had been crushed, twirled, stretched like a toy. I ignore the strangeness I feel in my stomach and silently pray that whatever is going on inside me is not really moving.

  I try to talk. There are no words to be said. She's the one who captured me, and if she wanted me dead, she would have done it by now. Does she know what she's doing? The plans that she's interrupting? How many kingdoms are you condemning if you prevent me from completing my destiny? Or is it just following its instinct like all the rest of its hive?

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  “Come.”

  My consciousness disappears as if asleep. A feverish dream consumes my senses one second, and the next, I'm sitting on the stone chair.

  My chest beats in strange rhythms, my head boils. I feel my sanity tearing apart every time I stand in his presence. Over the cold rock of the empty hall, I stare at the tyrant, uncertain. The silence extends once again.

  “You're different, Andreas.”

  I breathe in. “… Andreas?”

  “Your name. It's yours. You. You took that form. Looks like her. Are you trying to hurt me? Is it?”

  “I don't know what-”

  “Liar!” The harsh cry seems to scratch Hilda's throat. She hugs her knees and bites her thumb. “You choose to hurt me, after all this. You came back to hurt me. I won't forgive you. I won't forgive you. Bring her back. Now.”

  “Who?”

  Hilda frowns.

  “N-I don't know who she would be, or who I look like. I'm not the same person you knew. When the Demiurge-”

  “DON'T SAY HIS NAME!”

  “… When the Demon King was defeated, we were divided. I returned to my first form, a strange boy from a village in the middle of nowhere.”

  She bends her head. “I understand. Yes. They said yes. They say yes. It's notorious. Work with the Hero. The hero is good. No. It's not. Just another liar. Still, it's not who it was before. I can see it's not. But you lie. Caution is required.” Hilda stops biting her nails, then looks at the wind for a few seconds, and then returns to me. “The prophecy said something about that. Something. A boy and a White Crow. You met her. I can see it in your body. Two fairies. Aldwyn and… My sister.”

  “… Excuse me? Is Morgana your sister?”

  Hilda twists her neck to the other side. “She shouldn't be in you. She should be sealed. Yes. Sealed. Traitor. She hurt me. It hurt all of us.”

  That's not the version I know…

  Hilda is silent.

  “There's a reason. You hurt me. You choose to hurt me. After all this, you still decided to hurt me. I will punish him. I will punish. In every possible way.”

  “Bring her back. My sister.”

  “Morgana?”

  “No. The other.”

  “What do I look like?”

  “No. You look like the sister Morgana loved. I want you to resurrect the sister I love. The one stuck inside the tree. The one stuck in the tree. Trapped. Resurrect her.”

  “… I can't do that. I'm hurt, and even if I wasn't…”

  “You can.”

  “How?”

  “Have you met my children?”

  “Children?”

  “Yes! Yes! All who sing and dance and eat and spin and… Yes! They are all my children! So beautiful. So beautiful.” She detaches herself a little more from the throne. “But you don't find them pretty. No. You don't think they're beautiful, no. You hate them. You hate me. You hate my children. You killed my children. You killed one of my children! And my sister! My precious sister!”

  Is she talking about trolls? I can't answer. I have to divert your questions elsewhere while help does not arrive.

  “… I-”

  “But I saved her.” She interrupts. Hilda stands up, the skin on her back rips and sways like accessories on a dress. The Queen spins as she laughs, dancing around me, singing like a girl, elusive as a fox. A shrill laugh, faltering steps, her body shaking unable to ignore the pain, even if she doesn't realize it. “I saved her! On the other side of the moon! And you will bring her to meet my children! My beautiful and beautiful children!”

  “On the other side of the moon…? What does it mean?”

  Hilda covers her mouth and widens her eyes, then smiles and opens her arms towards her throne. The woman attacks him, driving her hands into the roots and tearing them open like flesh. Then, she points to her own chest, where the pink heart pulses in magical glow; and its beats resonate accompanied by the heart of the Mother Tree.

  “… What is this…?”

  Behind the pulsating wound, an Amber Heart rises, looming over the room with its dull, yellowish glow. Inside, trapped, a large woman is surrounded by a dress of flowers, no longer colored or smelling. Its face is round, surrounded by vines, leaves, and wood.

  “I sealed her in this tree. The Mother Tree. She's in here. Breathing. Sleeping. I'll save her. But she cannot be saved. She's dead. But I will save her. One life for another. You can do that. You hurt me. Your life for hers. Yep. There is nothing more beautiful on this side of the moon. Save her!”

  For a moment I thought that Hilda had managed to preserve her from death, and that her state was one of coma or illness. But no. She is dead; clearly dead. Bones sprout, flesh sinks, eyes lifeless, body swollen. Still, she whispers. Whispers a lost, ancient and forbidden language, threatens to blow my ears with strong, shapeless tones. He communicates with Hilda. Tells stories in her mind, makes her agree with his advice.

  A voice from beyond.

  My eyes widen. The problem is obvious to anyone who is not insane.

  Demons are masters at preying on fragile minds. They promise power with sweet words and divinity through revolt. They say you can do something if you follow in their footsteps.

  So Hilda decided to keep her sister alive when she passed away, absorbing nutrients from her beautiful garden and killing him to keep his body intact. It would be worth degrading mere matter to save a soul—a thousand mountains do not equal a single life. But she is not alive, and her body has not been preserved.

  Hilda had been deceived. The function of the gigantic ritual of demonic character has never been to resurrect his sister, but to give power to whatever is speaking through her corpse.

  Is that how she learned how to summon Grendel?

  Pieces fit together inside my mind, they all bring an even worse truth to the surface. How to defeat a demon that has absorbed so much magic? What are you trying to do with all this power?

  Hilda's smile faded. “You didn't like it. You hurt me.”

  “N-no! Hilda, wait! This thing is not your sister! She'd have to rip her soul out of the afterlife to get it back! It's impossible to resurrect someone like that!”

  She frowns. “You are the one who do impossible things. You should not say what is impossible or not for me. The Light took my sister away from me. I want her back.”

  “You will kill thousands to even get what you want… And even if I could, so what? Do you have any idea of the consequences of what you did?!”

  “I know. I know. I don't mind. No. What's mine is mine. Just mine. Just mine.”

  “…!”

  His voice said I could save her. Maybe it was a call from The Lion, and he's disappointed. Or knew this would be the result from the start. Regardless…

  “There is nothing more precious than my sister. All those who try to stop me will also be consumed.” She widens her eyes. “Yes. Conflict is inevitable, and it's worth it. My sister says it's okay. So if you can't save it, you can do it. The voice promised me that it will do, and that it will get stronger if it consumes the hero as well. Sounds good! Light and darkness! Yeah! Yeah! I'm so close, so close! You two will serve as a sacrifice to the banquet, and she will return to me!”

  Hilda raises her arms in the air.

  “Come! Come! MORE CANDY TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON!”

  Roots from the ground unscrew. A grunt echoes through the room as if it were falling apart. The floor gives way. Darkness envelops me as if falling into a stomach, a supernatural passage alters the environment and transports me to an impossible place.

  My vision spins. Spin, spin, sing and dance. Thousands of forms undergo thousands of corrections. My body is pressed against the veil that separates the planes. Space and Time Warp as I fall. I feel crushed between two almost infinite pressures, then suddenly;

  I pass through.