Minor changes started today in the Metra UP-W schedule. All changes for the UP-W line are on the outbound trains.
UP West Line Changes as of May 30 • Train 13 has added stops at Glen Ellyn, Wheaton, and West Chicago • Train 15 will now terminate its run at La Fox • Trains 43 and 47 have added stops at Villa Park and Geneva • Train 49 will now arrive in Elburn 5 minutes later at 6:30 p.m. • All trains departing or arriving, Chicago at 7:40 p.m. or later will now stop at both Melrose Park and Maywood.
Full details can be found at: Minor changes to UP-NW and UP-W schedules on May 30 Metra Updated PDF train schedule can be found here: UP-W.pdf (metrarail.com)

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This is the third in a series of posts, in which I present a theory on the history of the Others. You can read part one here, part two here, and part three here.
My previous posts came with a disclaimer, which I'm going to copy-paste below:
In a certain sense, I am both a new and an old fan of ASOIAF. I read the books about ten years ago, enjoyed them, and then barely thought about them ever again after putting them down. Then, HotD got me interested in the series again, and I ended up going down the rabbit hole of fan theories, speculation about future books, details that I missed on my first reading, etc., which has been a lot of fun! But I’ve only read the series once, and it was ten years ago, so a lot of my memories are pretty fuzzy. Honestly, a lot of my knowledge comes from the wiki (although I have gone back and reread certain important chapters). All of this is to say, I am not the most knowledgeable person to be coming up with fan theories, and the fact that I’m posting this at all probably indicates a certain amount of Dunning-Kruger effect. Take everything I say here with a grain of salt, and please let me know if there’s something obvious that my ignorance has caused me to miss. Other than that, let me know what you think!
But I also need to include another disclaimer: I came up with this theory before I became aware of the idea that Bloodraven wasn't the three-eyed crow, and, as such, this theory assumes that Bloodraven is the three-eyed crow. To be honest, I'm becoming increasingly sympathetic to the idea that Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, but I'm still undecided. If Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, that will poke a few holes in this theory, but I ultimately think it wouldn't be too big of a problem. After all, the 3EC led Bran to Bloodraven, so they must share at least some goals. So, I ask that you assume for the purposes of this post that Bloodraven is the 3EC, with the understanding that, if it turns out that Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, this theory will need some minor amending. I've already been thinking about theories on that topic, so, if and when I finish such a theory, I'll post it and discuss how it modifies this theory. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. For now…

Part 4: Bloodraven

Making First Men horny

One of the most powerful pieces of magic we're told of in ASOIAF is the Hammer of the Waters. This is a spell that causes powerful earthquakes, capable of radically reshaping the geography where it's used. The Children of the Forest are said to have used the Hammer of the Waters on at least two occasions: once to flood the Neck, and once to break the Arm of Dorne. I argued in my previous post that the Horn of Winter contains the same magic as the Hammer of the Waters, and that when Joramun blew the Horn of Winter the resulting earthquake destroyed the western section of the Wall and created the Gorge. However, while the Horn of Winter replicates the magic of the Hammer of the Waters, that doesn't mean the Horn of Winter was the original Hammer of the Waters; that is to say, I don't think that the Horn of Winter was used to flood the Neck or break the Arm of Dorne. There are a few reasons why the Horn probably wasn't responsible for these historical events:

1. The Horn of Winter is probably the same horn that's currently in Sam's possession (link to a series of posts that analyzes the Horn of Winter and lays out this argument), and that horn is banded in bronze. The CotF didn't work with bronze.
2. TWOIAF described how the CotF brought about the Hammer of the Waters, and it had nothing to do with sounding a horn. Supposedly, it was your standard blood sacrifice deal: kill a bunch of people, and in exchange a powerful magical effect will occur. While the Horn of Winter might kill the person who blew it (in the same way Dragonbinder does), we have no reason to believe it requires a mass sacrifice.
3. Creating the Gorge, while no mean feat, is much less impressive than breaking the Arm of Dorne or flooding the Neck. The Horn of Winter appears to be a weaker version of the Hammer of the Waters.

So it looks like, compared to the original Hammer of the Waters, the Horn of Winter represents a tradeoff of power for convenience: the resulting earthquake isn't as strong, but you can create an earthquake without performing a massive blood sacrifice. But I want to focus on the fact that the Horn of Winter is banded in bronze. The CotF don't use bronze, but you know who do? The First Men. The Horn of Winter contains the magic of the CotF, but its physical structure could only have been made by the First Men. This suggests that the First Men (or some faction thereof) and the CotF (or some faction thereof) collaborated to create the Horn of Winter.
I suspect that that First Men faction was none other than the Stark Kings of Winter; this would explain why it's called the Horn of Winter in the first place. Regardless of which group of First Men was responsible, however, it's easy to see why they did it: the Horn of Winter is a powerful weapon, and any faction of First Men would have been happy to have such a weapon in their possession. So the interesting question isn't, "Why did the First Men work with the CotF to create the Horn of Winter?" The interesting question is, "Why did the CotF work with the First Men to create the Horn of Winter?" Why would the CotF give the First Men a weapon capable of destroying the Wall?
Let's take a step back and recall the role that the CotF played in the events leading up to the construction of the Wall. Their lands were invaded by the First Men, and I argued in my first post that they responded by creating the Others as a race of slave soldiers to fight the First Men. After the Pact ended the war between the CotF and the First Men, the CotF kept the Others enslaved and/or hunted down the free ones in the Lands of Always Winter. Then the Long Night came, and I argued in my second post that the Others took advantage of it by attacking the First Men, killing them en masse in order to grow their power, with the ultimate goal of attacking the CotF. Eventually, the CotF participated in the peace agreement that ended the Long Night. But it's worth remembering that the CotF only interceded in the conflict between humans and Others at the urging of the Last Hero:

"Now these were the days before the Andals came, and long before the women fled across the narrow sea from the cities of the Rhoyne, and the hundred kingdoms of those times were the kingdoms of the First Men, who had taken these lands from the children of the forest. Yet here and there in the fastness of the woods the children still lived in their wooden cities and hollow hills, and the faces in the trees kept watch. So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost." (AGOT, Bran IV)

Prior to the Last Hero, the CotF seem to have been content to sit back and watch the humans and the Others kill each other—which, considering the history of those three species, is understandable. (According to Sam, the CotF did at one point give obsidian daggers to the Night's Watch, so the CotF did get involved in the conflict between the humans and the Others eventually, but this probably didn't happen until after the Last Hero made contact with them. Old Nan says that the Last Hero had to go on a quest of some difficulty to make contact with the CotF; presumably, this wouldn't have been necessary if the CotF were already giving obsidian daggers to the Night's Watch, because then the Last Hero could have just gone to the Night's Watch and gotten in contact with the CotF that way. So, for most if not all of the Long Night, the CotF did not provide humans with obsidian weapons, meaning that they truly were uninvolved in the conflict between the two species.) I argued in my second post that the peace agreement between the First Men and the Others was an essential part of ending the Long Night, and that this was facilitated by the Last Hero/Azor Ahai. The CotF's absence in the conflict between the humans and the Others prior to the Last Hero's involvement suggests that the CotF had no desire to see the humans and the Others make peace. They only facilitated a peace agreement because it was necessary in order to end the Long Night. The Long Night was an existential threat to the CotF, both because the forests can't survive in an eternal night and because the Others might eventually become powerful enough to threaten the CotF. So the CotF needed to end the Long Night, and ending the Long Night necessitated a peace agreement between humans and Others. It's very easy to imagine that the Last Hero's pitch to the CotF went something like, "Look, I know there's no love lost between you and humanity, and certainly none between you and the Others. But the Long Night isn't going to end unless all three species work together, and the Long Night will kill you guys, just as it will kill humanity. For your own sake, work with us to end this." Clearly, this argument was persuasive. But, once the Long Night ended, the CotF no longer had any reason to care about peace between the humans and the Others—a peace that only existed thanks to the Wall, which was partially destroyed by the Horn of Winter, which the CotF helped to create. The logical conclusion is that the CotF made the Horn of Winter in order to destroy the Wall and renew the war between the humans and the Others. The CotF weren't unconcerned observers to the human-Other war; they actively wanted the two species to fight.
You may be wondering, why didn't the CotF just destroy the Wall using the Hammer of the Waters? The problem with doing that is that the Hammer of the Waters is distinctly CotF magic, so destroying the Wall with the Hammer of the Waters would have pointed right back to the CotF. The humans and the Others would have known that the CotF were trying to provoke them back into war, and they would have naturally resisted those efforts. The way around this is to give humans access to the same magic as the Hammer of the Waters. That way, when the humans use that magic near the Wall, it will be the humans who are responsible for destroying the Wall. Helping the First Men create the Horn of Winter was therefore a way for the CotF to end the peace between humanity and the Others, all while maintaining plausible deniability. And it kind of worked; the Horn of Winter did destroy the western part of the Wall. But this didn't result in the human-Other war that the CotF wanted, because, as I argued in my previous post, the Others' queen was taken captive at the same time as the destruction of the Wall, and she's been used as a hostage to keep the peace ever since.

Child psychology

I've argued that the CotF wanted the humans and Others to fight, but I haven't explained why they'd want that. The easy answer is that the CotF have grievances with both the humans and the Others, so they wanted bloodshed between the two. But we shouldn't accept that easy answer too readily. If we're going to understand what the CotF want, we're going to have to get inside their heads. The books tell us about at least one way in which CotF psychology differs from human psychology:

"That was in the dawn of days, when our sun was rising. Now it sinks, and this is our long dwindling. The giants are almost gone as well, they who were our bane and our brothers. The great lions of the western hills have been slain, the unicorns are all but gone, the mammoths down to a few hundred. The direwolves will outlast us all, but their time will come as well. In the world that men have made, there is no room for them, or us."
She seemed sad when she said it, and that made Bran sad as well. It was only later that he thought, Men would not be sad. Men would be wroth. Men would hate and swear a bloody vengeance. The singers sing sad songs, where men would fight and kill. (ADWD, Bran III)

So we're told that vengeance and spite aren't really a thing for the CotF, or at least not in the way that they are for humans. I've heard some people suggest that Leaf might be lying here, and that the CotF actually do want vengeance, but I don't think so, for a couple of reasons. First, and this is purely personal preference, I think it's a lot more interesting if the CotF don't think in the same way that humans do. If you're going to have multiple sentient species in your story, and they all think and behave in the same way, then it kind of defeats the purpose of having multiple species in the first place, doesn't it? If the CotF think and act just like humans do, I would personally find that boring. Secondly, and more importantly, we know that the CotF employ at least one human, Bloodraven, as a greenseer. This is a position of importance and confidence in CotF society, and it gives Bloodraven access to immense information. If the CotF were really planning on taking vengeance on humanity, then it's unlikely that they would be able to hide that information from Bloodraven (and any other human greenseers the CotF had; we don't know if Bloodraven was the only one), and it's unlikely that Bloodraven would help the CotF destroy or harm his own species. So the fact that the CotF rely on Bloodraven (and possibly other human greenseers in the past) suggests that the CotF genuinely don't wish any ill will on humanity, just as Leaf said. And if the CotF don't wish any ill will on humanity today, then they also probably didn't wish any ill will on humanity at the time they made the Horn of Winter—that was back when humans still held to the Pact, so the CotF would have had fewer grievances back then than they do today. So, if the CotF wanted to cause a war between the humans and the Others, and their goal wasn't to cause any long-term harm to humanity as a species, then their intent must have been to harm, weaken, or exterminate the Others. The CotF wanted the humans and the Others to go back to war, and they wanted humans to win. This explains why the CotF used to gift obsidian daggers to the Night's Watch.
This raises the question, if the CotF wanted humans to defeat the Others, why didn't they help the humans during the Long Night (at least, prior to the Last Hero's involvement)? Well, once again, we need to consider the psychology of the CotF. We know the CotF are willing to fight incredibly bloody wars, as they did against the First Men, but we also know that they won't keep fighting in a hopeless circumstance simply to spite their enemy, in the way that humans will. In situations where they are faced with assured destruction, they react with sad acceptance, not defiance. The fact that the CotF didn't initially participate in the war against the Others during the Long Night indicates that they must have viewed that war as hopeless. The Others were sweeping south, massacring humans, converting their boys into more Others and raising the rest as wights, constantly growing stronger; the CotF must have concluded that there was nothing they could do, no way to survive the Long Night. They didn't just roll over and die, but they weren't about to fight the Others when they had no chance of success. The CotF most likely hid, guarding themselves with magic, waiting to die a slow death—just like they're doing today.
Fortunately for the CotF, the Long Night did not end in their extinction. As I argued in my second post, Azor Ahai negotiated a peace treaty that ended the Long Night. But, as part of that peace treaty, the Others received a queen, the first female member of their species (whom I've been referring to as the Night's Queen). This allowed the Others to reproduce sexually, as opposed to their earlier method of kidnapping human children, and as a result the Others' population would have begun increasing dramatically following the Long Night. So, on the one hand, the Others were no longer benefitting from the Long Night, meaning they were more vulnerable than they had been prior to the peace treaty. But, at the same time, the Others were growing more powerful, as their population rose. For the first time since the Long Night began, the CotF could now hope for victory in a war with them and the humans on one side and the Others on the other side, but they had a very narrow window in which to act, before the Others became too powerful. That's why they only began making moves against the Others after the Long Night; during the Long Night the Others were too strong to be realistically opposed, and before the Long Night the Others weren't seen as a significant threat. Once the Long Night ended, however, the CotF got to work, by helping to make the Horn of Winter and by providing the Night's Watch with obsidian.

Things change

The above description probably makes it seem like the CotF were motivated to provoke a new war against the Others out of self-preservation, and there may well be some truth in that. The Others, with their new queen, were a rising power, and they still probably harbored a vendetta against the CotF. If the new war against the Others resulted in the Others' extinction, that would obviously guarantee the CotF's safety from them; if the war resulted in the Night's Queen being killed or captured (which I argued is what happened), that would remove the Others' status as a rising power. So, if the CotF were acting out of self-preservation, their plan seems to have been both well motivated and reasonably successful.
But, while the CotF might have successfully averted the risk posed by the Others, they failed to do the same with the humans. Leaf, and presumably the other CotF, fully recognize that humanity's expansion is going to drive them extinct. This has massive implications for the CotF's goals and motivations. The fact that the CotF are aware of and resigned to their inevitable extinction means that self-preservation is no longer a concern for them. They might have been motivated by self-preservation following the end of the Long Night, but not anymore. Whatever the CotF are doing nowadays, they're doing it because there's something they want to accomplish before they vanish as a species. And I do think that the CotF are trying to accomplish something, partly because characters that don't want anything are boring, and partly because Bloodraven is clearly up to something, and the CotF are supporting him. So, if they're not motivated by self-preservation, what are the CotF trying to do?
A common idea I've heard is that Bloodraven and the CotF want to prevent the Others from destroying the world in a second Long Night. I think there's an element of truth to this (especially considering the lengths the CotF have already gone to to oppose the Others), but I don't think it's the whole story. Consider this: if the CotF want to prevent the Others from conquering Westeros, but they're not motivated by self-preservation, then they must be motivated by some combination of altruism and guilt. They created the Others, then the Others got out of hand, to the point where they threatened all of Westeros, and now the CotF feel responsible for making sure they don't do that again. That's reasonable, even noble, but it can't be limited to merely defeating the Others in this latest confrontation. If all that comes of this current conflict with the Others is that the Others are prevented from conquering Westeros, then who's to say that the Others won't try to conquer Westeros a third time in another 8,000 years? And by the time that happens, the CotF will be extinct, so they won't be around to help with that conflict. Simply defeating the Others and thwarting their plans would be a temporary solution to a permanent problem, and, with the CotF facing their own extinction, they would see now as a time for permanent solutions. And when the problem in question is the existence of the Others, there can be only one solution: The CotF want to wipe out the Others completely. I suspect they wanted this ever since the Long Night; they probably see it as cleaning up after their mess. Now, with their extinction looming, that plan to genocide the Others has been made a priority.
I know that my logic has involved jumping around in time a lot, so, as a summary, let me present this handy timeline of the CotF's thoughts on the Others:

• During the war between the CotF and the First Men: "We need the Others to win this war."
• After the Pact was forged: Either "We may not be at war anymore, but we need to keep the Others as our slave soldiers, just in case the humans break the Pact," or "We don't need the Others anymore now that we have the Pact. I'm sure the handful of free Others in the Lands of Always Winter won't be a problem."
• During the Long Night: "The Others are going to drive both us and the First Men to extinction, but there's nothing we can do about it. This sucks."
• After the Long Night: "The Others are vulnerable, but they won't be for long. They're a danger to both us and the humans, and they're our fault. We need to act fast to destroy them, while we still can. That means we need to get the humans and the Others to start fighting again, and then we can help the humans win that war."
• After the Night's Queen was taken prisoner: "This isn't ideal, but the Others are no longer a rising power without their queen, so we can leave well enough alone."
• After it became clear that the CotF were going extinct: "The Others are unable to act against the humans for now, but there's no guarantee that that will last, and we won't be around to oppose the Others forever. We need to genocide the Others, while we're still around to do so."

I want to comment on an interesting theme here. You may notice a certain paternalism in the CotF's attitudes toward humans. This has already demonstrated in the books:

"Two hundred years?" said Meera.
The child smiled. “Men, they are the children.” (ADWD, Bran II)

It has often been observed that the Others, as an existential threat that can only be dealt with if humanity puts away its petty political squabbles, serve as a metaphor for climate change. In this metaphor, the CotF are the older generations that caused climate change in the first place and now are dying off for unrelated reasons. The CotF's behavior can then be seen as an aspirational model for how older generations should behave with regards climate change. Rather than saying, "Fuck it, I'll be dead, so it's not my problem," they ought to say, "I'm partly responsible for this, so I need to fix it, and the fact that I won't be around that much longer only means I need to work harder to fix it while I still can." Sadly, the CotF only behave the way they do because of their inhuman psychology, which points to the fact that it was never realistic to hope that older generations would behave this way in real life. I doubt this theme is intentional; Martin seems to have originally not seen the Others as a climate change metaphor, although he's since come around to the idea. Still, I think it's a neat connection.

It was Bloodraven all along

If the CotF really want to wipe out the Others, then the current situation at Winterfell must seem perfect for them. I argued in my last post that the events of the series have left Winterfell vulnerable, and the Others are now planning a rescue mission to extract their queen from the Winterfell crypts. With their queen no longer held captive, there will be nothing preventing war between humans and Others (and, after the humans kept the Night's Queen imprisoned for thousands of years, the Others will definitely have cause for war), and this war will happen while the CotF are still around to support the humans. Better still, humanity has dragons again, which will surely be useful against the Others. Everything seems to be going swimmingly for the CotF's plan to provoke a war of extermination against the Others, which raises an obvious question: did the CotF cause the current situation?
To grossly oversimplify a complex series of events, Winterfell's vulnerability can be traced back to two events:

• Ned going to King's Landing, and subsequently getting beheaded. This caused all of the Starks except for Bran and Rickon to leave Winterfell, and it caused the Northern army to march south, leaving Winterfell vulnerable to…
• Theon capturing Winterfell, and subsequently losing it to Ramsay. This physically damaged Winterfell, it caused Bran and Rickon to leave, and it meant that Winterfell was now under Bolton control, which put it at the center of both Stannis's war and the various Northern intrigues.

As it happens, there's evidence that Bloodraven played a part in both of these events. First, Bloodraven was probably responsible for sending the direwolves to the Stark children (link to a series of posts by JoeMagician that lays out this argument, among other claims), and these direwolves shaped the events that led to Ned's beheading. Summer killed Bran's assassin before he could murder Bran, but also before he could be interrogated by the Starks; as a result, Catelyn acquired the Valyrian steel dagger, but she didn't know who sent the assassin. Littlefinger took advantage of this to manipulate the Starks. Meanwhile, the Nymeria/Lady incident deepened tensions between the Starks and the Lannisters. I'm not saying that the direwolves exist solely for the purpose of getting Ned's beheaded, but they did contribute to his beheading, by providing Littlefinger with a means of manipulating the Starks and by further souring relations between Ned and Cersei.
More significantly, Bloodraven removed Bran's memory of Jaime pushing him from the tower:

Bran was staring at his arms, his legs. He was so skinny, just skin stretched taut over bones. Had he always been so thin? He tried to remember. A face swam up at him out of the grey mist, shining with light, golden. "The things I do for love," it said.
Bran screamed.
The crow took to the air, cawing. Not that, it shrieked at him. Forget that, you do not need it now, put it aside, put it away. It landed on Bran’s shoulder, and pecked at him, and the shining golden face was gone. (AGOT, Bran III)

If Bran had kept that memory, then he presumably would have woken up and told someone, "Jaime Lannister pushed me out of the tower, after I saw him wrestling naked with Queen Cersei." How exactly this would have changed the events of the book is a matter of fanfic, but, with eye-witness evidence of Jaime and Cersei committing incest and attempted murder, it's very easy to see things going poorly for the Lannisters. Even Cersei recognized how difficult of a situation that would have been to navigate:

If truth be told, Jaime had come to rue heaving Brandon Stark out that window. Cersei had given him no end of grief afterward, when the boy refused to die. "He was seven, Jaime," she’d berated him. "Even if he understood what he saw, we should have been able to frighten him into silence."
"I didn’t think you’d want—"
"You never think. If the boy should wake and tell his father what he saw—"
"If if if." He had pulled her into his lap. “If he wakes we’ll say he was dreaming, we’ll call him a liar, and should worse come to worst I’ll kill Ned Stark."
"And then what do you imagine Robert will do?" (ASOS, Jaime I)

Had Bran kept his memory of Jaime pushing him out of the window, then it likely would have been Cersei and Jaime's downfall, and that means Ned wouldn't have lost his head.
Later, when Theon takes Winterfell, he wakes up suddenly in the middle of the night, and he gets the feeling that someone was responsible for waking him:

One moment he was asleep; the next, awake.
Kyra nestled against him, one arm draped lightly over his, her breasts brushing his back. He could hear her breathing, soft and steady. The sheet was tangled about them. It was the black of night. The bedchamber was dark and still.
What is it? Did I hear something? Someone?
Wind sighed faintly against the shutters. Somewhere, far off, he heard the yowl of a cat in heat. Nothing else. Sleep, Greyjoy, he told himself. The castle is quiet, and you have guards posted. At your door, at the gates, on the armory.
He might have put it down to a bad dream, but he did not remember dreaming. (ACOK, Theon IV)

This was the chapter where Bran and company "escape," and Theon's primary emotions throughout the chapter are anxiety and desperation. Those feelings build over the course of the day, as Theon tries and fails to find Bran and Rickon, eventually consuming him to the point where he does something stupid.

"Joseth has the right of it," said Maester Luwin. "Groping through the woods by torchlight will avail us nothing."
Theon could taste bile at the back of his throat, and his stomach was a nest of snakes twining and snapping at each other. If he crept back to Winterfell empty-handed, he might as well dress in motley henceforth and wear a pointed hat; the whole north would know him for a fool. And when my father hears, and Asha …
"M’lord prince." Reek urged his horse near. (ACOK, Theon IV)

Theon woke up in the middle of the night with a sense that something was off, and then he had plenty of time to stew in his anxiety. Were it not for that, he might not have descended to the point where killing the miller's boys seemed like a good idea. Therefore, the hint that someone was responsible for waking him up is interesting; maybe Bloodraven used his psychic tree powers to wake Theon? The passage mentions the "sigh" of wind—a notably anthropomorphic phrasing—and we know that, when Bran tried to communicate with Ned in the past, it sounded like wind to him; maybe Bloodraven can do something similar, sans time travel? There's nothing explicitly pointing to Bloodraven, but there is evidence that he's messing with Theon's emotions in his next chapter:

The sky was a gloom of cloud, the woods dead and frozen. Roots grabbed at Theon’s feet as he ran, and bare branches lashed his face, leaving thin stripes of blood across his cheeks. He crashed through heedless, breathless, icicles flying to pieces before him. Mercy, he sobbed. From behind came a shuddering howl that curdled his blood. Mercy, mercy. When he glanced back over his shoulder he saw them coming, great wolves the size of horses with the heads of small children. Oh, mercy, mercy. Blood dripped from their mouths black as pitch, burning holes in the snow where it fell. Every stride brought them closer. Theon tried to run faster, but his legs would not obey. The trees all had faces, and they were laughing at him, laughing, and the howl came again. He could smell the hot breath of the beasts behind him, a stink of brimstone and corruption. They’re dead, dead, I saw them killed, he tried to shout, I saw their heads dipped in tar, but when he opened his mouth only a moan emerged, and then something touched him and he whirled, shouting … (ACOK, Theon V)

Theon feels guilty for faking Bran and Rickon's death, and he's afraid for his future; that guilt and fear would have existed in him no matter what, but these dreams amplify those feelings, and the presence of weirwood trees suggests that Bloodraven is actively sending them to Theon. After all, none of Theon's experiences have involved a weirwood in any significant capacity, so this wasn't a native element of his dream, and Bran often has dreams about a weirwood that are implied to be sent by Bloodraven. Theon's fear and his attempts to rationalize his guilt drive him to cling desperately to his power and authority:

"Your prize will be the doom of you. Krakens rise from the sea, Theon, or did you forget that during your years among the wolves? Our strength is in our longships. My wooden pisspot sits close enough to the sea for supplies and fresh men to reach me whenever they are needful. But Winterfell is hundreds of leagues inland, ringed by woods, hills, and hostile holdfasts and castles. And every man in a thousand leagues is your enemy now, make no mistake. You made certain of that when you mounted those heads on your gatehouse." Asha shook her head. "How could you be such a bloody fool? Children …"
"They defied me!" he shouted in her face. "And it was blood for blood besides, two sons of Eddard Stark to pay for Rodrik and Maron." The words tumbled out heedlessly, but Theon knew at once that his father would approve. "I’ve laid my brothers’ ghosts to rest." (ACOK, Theon V)

All of this causes Theon to reject Asha's offer to leave Winterfell for Deepwood Motte, which results in Ramsay sacking Winterfell. So, to summarize, Bloodraven provided the Lannisters with advantages so that they would triumph in their intrigues against Ned, and he psychologically manipulated Theon so that he would lose Winterfell to Ramsay. Bloodraven has actively worked to create the circumstances that have left Winterfell vulnerable, so that the Others will be able to rescue their queen and begin a new war against the humans. I don't want to fall into the trap of claiming that Bloodraven was responsible for everything; I think that most events in the story happened without his direct interference. But, thanks to his greensight giving him glimpses of the future, Bloodraven has found a few places where just a small nudge can result in things going the way he wants them to.
Of course, putting Winterfell in a vulnerable position only matters if the Others know about that vulnerability. Bloodraven must have some communication with the Others. I'm not sure what this communication looks like; if the Others can dream, then it might just mean sending them green dreams prophesying Winterfell's coming vulnerability. Alternatively, Bloodraven might be communicating with them directly by skinchanging into a raven. Maybe he's posing as a human traitor, willing to sell out the humans and the CotF, a kind of second Night's King? This is definitely the biggest missing piece in my theory, but I don't think it's too outlandish to posit Bloodraven has some means of getting information to the Others, and that he's thereby clued the Others in on Winterfell's coming vulnerability.

A politically useful apocalypse

I've talked a lot about the CotF's motivations, but not at all about Bloodraven's, so let's do that now. I'd recommend you read this excellent series of posts on Bloodraven, which I'll be drawing from heavily. Prior to becoming the Last Greenseer, Bloodraven was primarily occupied with the Blackfyres. He played a crucial role in ending the First Blackfyre Rebellion, including but not limited to killing Daemon Blackfyre and his eldest two sons, and since then he went to every effort to foil future Blackfyre attempts to claim the Iron Throne. Some people have speculated that Bloodraven did so out of duty and a desire to keep the realm stable, but this doesn't hold up. Following Maekar I's death, a Great Council was held to determine the succession, and Bloodraven invited and then immediately killed Aenys Blackfyre. Bloodraven later claimed that this was for the good of the realm, but… how? If the Great Council had selected Aenys as the next king, the crown would have passed to him just as peacefully and rightfully as it ended up passing to Aegon V. If Bloodraven was truly motivated by duty and a desire for peace, he would have had no reason to kill Aenys. The only explanation for Bloodraven's actions is that he genuinely did not want a Blackfyre to take the throne, no matter the circumstances surrounding their accession. In fact, his anti-Blackfyre obsession was so intense that he ignored the devastation caused by Dagon Greyjoy, because addressing it would leave the throne vulnerable to the Blackfyres:

"Myself, I blame Bloodraven," Ser Kyle went on. "He is the King's Hand, yet he does nothing, whilst the krakens spread flame and terror up and down the sunset sea."
Ser Maynard gave a shrug. "His eye is fixed on Tyrosh, where Bittersteel sits in exile, plotting with the sons of Daemon Blackfyre. So he keeps the king's ships close at hand, lest they attempt to cross." (The Mystery Knight)

It's important to note that Maynard Plumm was probably a glamored Bloodraven, so this isn't mere speculation; this is Bloodraven telling us his motivation. By all accounts, Bloodraven's tenure as Hand was an awful time for Westeros, where law and order broke down and few people respected the king. The point is, Bloodraven was not a noble man fighting against a beloved brother because it was the right thing to do. Bloodraven was a Targaryen uber-loyalist, who would gladly see the realm burn, so long as a Targaryen remained on the throne. And he appears to have retained that loyalty, decades later. Bloodraven is likely in control of Mormont's raven (see the series of posts I linked earlier), and in raven form Bloodraven hints fairly clearly about wanting Jon to be king:

"Aemon knew, and rightly, that if he remained at court those who disliked his brother’s rule would seek to use him, so he came to the Wall. And here he has remained, while his brother and his brother’s son and his son each reigned and died in turn, until Jaime Lannister put an end to the line of the Dragonkings."
"King," croaked the raven. The bird appeared across the solar to land on Mormont’s shoulder. "King," it said again, strutting back and forth. (ACOK, Jon I)

Something similar happens in ADWD, but what's interesting about this instance of the raven calling Jon king is that it happens immediately after Mormont claims that the Targaryen line has ended. This suggests that this is more than just a prophetic statement of fact; this is a profession of loyalty. Jon is the rightful Targaryen king, and he has Bloodraven's support.
Given his undying Targaryen loyalty, Bloodraven must be psyched about the coming war between the humans and the Others. Daenerys is coming with three dragons, which will be humanity's best hope for defeating the Others; Westeros will naturally rally behind Daenerys, solidifying her rule. Moreover, dragons will be seen as the saviors of Westeros, rather than as dangerous weapons. If Marwyn was right that the maesters killed the dragons, then this would prevent a similar conspiracy from arising and driving the dragons back into extinction, since the dragons would now be seen as necessary for Westeros's security against the forces of evil. So while Bloodraven wants to provoke a war between humans and Others, just like the CotF do, he wants this for a different reason than they do; Bloodraven wants to use the Others to bring about a lasting Targaryen restoration.

Continued in comments

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Thought I would do a trip report for once! I traveled to NoCal area from May 7th to May 15th. I live in America (Pittsburgh) and have not been to the West Coast other than when I was a preteen, so I decided it was time to go explore. I am 26F for context.
May 6th - Flew into JFK, my flight was delayed on the tarmac in Pit, and I only had a 1.5 hour layover. I managed to make my second flight as the doors were closing. PHEWF. Landed in SF around 12:30. I had left my apartment at 2:30 AM EST so I already had been traveling for 12 hours at that point LOL. I then picked up my rental car, drove another 4 hours towards Yosemite. Stopped along the way and did some hikes and site seeing. Got to my airbnb, got dinner and just had a campfire that night. My airbnb was in the Sierra National Forest. It was just beautiful there!
Day 2 : Spent time exploring local hikes in the area. I was near Oakhurst/North Forks. Went to Bass Lake. Went back to my airbnb (which was a cute AF airstream camper) and grilled for dinner and read a book. Very relaxing day.
Day 2 : Went to San Joaquin recreation area and did a hike there. Saw so many wildflowers... like 20 different types. And so many cows. Very little people on the trails, it was beautiful! The river was raging.
Day 3: Yosemite day! It was about a 1 hour drive to the gate, then another hour drive to the Valley. Left around 6am, was at the Valley by 9 AM (stopping and taking my time getting there once again LOL). Got some coffee at the cafe, and then set off for hiking. I did the lower Yosemite Falls trail and the upper Yosemite falls trail. Was a super steep hike, there was still snow on the trail! Yosemite was just gorgeous. I seemingly got lucky as well, because the park was closed the week before, and the weather was calling for it to be 30 degrees, but it was 50. The park was not crowded AT ALL when I was there.
Day 4 : Another travel day! Hit up a few wineries on my drive back towards SF and got to Pacifica around 5ish? Got dinner at the beach taco bell (had to, it is so iconic) and watched the sunset (glad I did, it was the only sunset that wasn't foggy!!!)
Day 5: Decided to roadtrip down to Big Sur and stop along the way! Stopped in Half Moon Bay, did some walking and shopping, stopped along the coast multiple times to site see, hung out near Bixby Bridge for a bit, turned around and met up with an old friend in Santa Cruz and had dinner on the beach and watched the sunset with her!
Day 6 : Tried to go see the Golden Gate Bridge at Bakers Beach but it was foggy af, so I just walked on the beach and people watched for like 45 mins, then took off towards Muir Woods. I stopped at the Golden Gate Bridge view as it was not foggy across the bridge, and got to see it! Then I drove up to Muir Woods to see the redwoods! Hiked around for a bit, but my knee was bothering me a bit that day, so I didn't do any long hikes. More just sketched and took pictures on my polaroid.
Day 7: Time to go into SF Proper. I parked at a BART Station, took the BART in, got brunch at a super cute place near the BART stop, and used MUNI for the rest of the day. I went to DeYoung Museum after, which was amazing. Loved both of their special exhibits. There was a public concert going on, so I hung out there for a bit and watched. Then I went to the Japanese Tea Gardens. Very cute in there. Lots of blooming flowers and plants. After, walked through Golden Gate park to Haigh-Ashbury and did some windowshopping at vintage stores, and came across a local artist market. Went and saw the Painted ladies. Took a bus to dinner, and headed out after that as it was 7pm and I wanted to get back to my car before dark!
Day 8: Travel day! My flight wasn't until noon, so I hung out on the beach in the morning and watched the surfers. Traveled home, no delayed flights. Got in around 1/2am to Pittsburgh.
Overall, it was a great trip! I was very impressed by California, it was just beautiful. I never felt unsafe, as many people warned me that SF was "gross, unsafe, dirty". I didn't share those sentiments at all. It is upsetting to see poverty and income discrepancy, for sure, but I did not have any negative experiences regarding that. It was cold, but I was expecting the weather. I honestly overpacked warm cloths, as Yosemite was calling for 30ish weather, but it ended up being 50!
Very happy I chose this area as my first Cali experience!

With the ~90ha fire burning out of control just west of Sayward now, I remembered seeing this documentary on the big fire of 1938 near there. It’s got a cool folk song and some great old footage of the area. Hope everyone stays safe!
https://www.reddit.com/VictoriaBC/comments/8weced/80_years_ago_one_of_the_worst_forest_fires_on/

Here is a crazy story I would love to share with the Internet.. So like 4-5 years ago I was living in a small apartment in Vlaardingen West with my GF. The idea was to pay as little rent as possible within the Randstad to save money to then buy a house. So naturally we found something very cheap on a not-so-pretty area. Very quiet area though ..next to the forest and close to a golf course. I think the rent was 500€ for 70 square meters. Great deal. Lovely neighbors . However the apartment was on the 3rd floor (4th floor in US terms) and had no elevator.
Anyway..
One quiet morning I head the doorbell and I see 2 police officers with a dog in front of my door. They asked me if they could come inside my apartment. I naturally asked them if they had a warrant (they didn’t) … In the end I decided to let them in because at the time I hadn’t received my Dutch citizenship and I definitely didn’t want any sort of trouble with the law.. Why give them reasons to suspect I was doing something wrong right ?
The dog and then proceded to search the apartment like very quickly and aggressively. Then I asked the officer. Sir wants going on? He told me to give them a min. Then I ask again sir why are you both like looking here and there .. I am sure I haven’t committed any crime I am sure you have the wrong person.. Then he said … look in your balcony..
I went to my balcony .. didn’t see shit. Then the cop said look down .. I look in the garden that is 3 floors down my balcony and there is in the ground a freaking HUMAN SKULL 💀.
Turns out a dog found it .. in that exact garden 3 stories down my balcony …
Moments later the whole Vlaardingen police closed down the block .. and I never hear anything about it ever again.
To this day I still don’t know.. If you happen to know who’s corpse was that please let me know 🤣🥲

Welcome to Banjul, the charming capital of The Gambia! Nestled on an island where the River Gambia meets the Atlantic Ocean, Banjul is a city that truly offers it all. From its rich history and cultural heritage to its breathtaking natural surroundings and warm hospitality, this vibrant destination has something for everyone. So if you're looking for an unforgettable adventure in West Africa without breaking the bank, grab your cheap flight to Banjul and let's explore together!

Banjul: An Overview

Banjul is the capital city of The Gambia, a small West African country that is famous for its natural beauty and vibrant culture. Despite being one of Africa's smallest countries, The Gambia has a rich history that dates back centuries and Banjul plays an important role in preserving this heritage.
The city itself is built on St. Mary's Island, where the River Gambia meets the Atlantic Ocean. Its strategic location made it an important trading center during colonial times, which left behind a lasting legacy visible in many areas of Banjul today.
Visitors to Banjul can enjoy exploring its bustling streets filled with colorful markets selling everything from textiles to fresh produce. There are also museums and galleries showcasing traditional Gambian art and crafts as well as contemporary works by local artists.
Outside of the city limits lies some truly breathtaking natural scenery waiting to be discovered. From pristine beaches along the Atlantic coast to lush rainforests teeming with wildlife further inland - there really is something for everyone here in Banjul!

History of Banjul

Banjul, the capital city of The Gambia, is a place with a rich history that dates back to the 15th century. Originally known as Bathurst, Banjul was founded by the British in 1816 as a trading post for ivory and gold.
During the colonial era, Banjul became an important administrative center for both the British and French forces operating in West Africa. It was also a hub for slave trade until its abolition in 1807. Today, visitors can explore remnants of this dark past at places like Kunta Kinteh Island (formerly James Island), where slaves were held captive before being transported across the Atlantic.
In addition to its role in slavery, Banjul played a key part in several major historical events including World War II when it served as an important base for Allied Forces. In fact, many buildings constructed during that time still stand today such as Arch 22 - one of Banjul's most recognizable landmarks.
Despite its troubled past, Banjul has emerged into a vibrant city full of life and culture. Visitors can learn more about The Gambia's history by visiting museums like The National Museum or simply walking through the streets which are lined with colonial-era architecture reminiscent of days gone by.

Nature in Banjul

Banjul is a city that truly enjoys the best of both worlds. While it has a rich history and culture, it also boasts an abundance of natural beauty. From serene beaches to lush forests, Banjul's nature scene is awe-inspiring.
One must-visit location for nature lovers in Banjul is the Abuko Nature Reserve. This reserve covers over 100 hectares and features various habitats such as woodland, savannah, and wetland areas. Here you can find rare birds like the African Jacana or watch baboons roam around freely.
Another famous spot for nature enthusiasts in Banjul is Tanji Bird Reserve which lies just south of the city center along its coastline where you can see hundreds of bird species fly above your head.
For beachgoers there are many options available ranging from secluded coves to bustling stretches full of bars & restaurants with live music on weekends.
Whether one wants to hike through verdant forests or lounge on pristine sandy beaches, Banjul's diverse natural offerings make it a destination not to be missed by any traveler who loves outdoor activities.

Hospitality in Banjul

When visiting Banjul, tourists can expect a warm and welcoming hospitality from the locals. The city is known for its friendly people who are always willing to lend a helping hand or share their culture.
One of the best ways to experience Gambian hospitality is by staying in one of the many local guesthouses. These accommodations offer visitors an opportunity to immerse themselves in the community and learn about daily life in Banjul.
Aside from lodging, tourists can also enjoy traditional cuisine like domoda (peanut stew) or benachin (Jollof rice). Food vendors line up along streets selling snacks such as kankankan malah (spicy roasted peanuts).
In addition, visitors can witness cultural performances like drumming and dancing which showcase traditions that have been passed down through generations. The National Museum offers exhibits on history, art, and culture that provide insight into Gambia's rich heritage.
From festivals to markets, there are countless opportunities to engage with locals during your stay in Banjul. Tourists will leave with a deep appreciation for Gambian hospitality and memories they'll cherish forever.

How to Get to Banjul

Getting to Banjul is relatively easy, with several options available. The Banjul International Airport is the main gateway for travelers arriving in the city by air. There are direct flights from major cities like London, Paris, and Madrid, as well as other African cities such as Dakar and Accra.
If you're on a budget, you can find cheap ticket to Banjul online or through a travel agency. Many airlines offer discounted fares during certain times of the year or if you book early enough.
For those who prefer overland travel, there are buses that run from nearby countries like Senegal and Guinea-Bissau. However, be prepared for long journeys and border crossings that may take some time.
Another option is taking a ferry across the River Gambia from Barra to Banjul. This route offers stunning views of the river and its surroundings but can be unpredictable due to weather conditions.
Once you arrive in Banjul, there are many transportation options available including taxis, local minibusses called "Gele Geles," and hired cars. It's recommended to negotiate prices beforehand to avoid being overcharged.
No matter how you choose to get there, visiting Banjul will immerse you in an unforgettable cultural experience filled with history-rich sites alongside beautiful nature spots perfect for exploring!

Conclusion

Banjul is a city that offers an unforgettable experience to all its visitors. It's where history meets nature, and hospitality makes you feel right at home. From exploring the historical landmarks of Banjul to relaxing on the beaches, there's something for everyone in this amazing city.
With cheap flights available, getting to Banjul has never been easier. Whether you're looking for a solo adventure or planning a family holiday, Banjul is definitely worth considering as your next travel destination.
So what are you waiting for? Book your cheap ticket to Banjul today and get ready for an unforgettable journey!

They didn’t tell us the name of the next kid that disappeared. They didn’t tell us another kid had disappeared at all. We could all tell by the silence what had happened. It spoke volumes. I’m sure they talked about it in great detail amongst themselves. In PTA meetings and City Councils. My parents made sure to turn off the TV at 5 o’clock before the news came on, at least in my home. They’d turn it back on for the 11 o’clock news, when were were in bed and couldn’t hear the details.
The strange thing is, they never told us to just stop going outside. They told us to go in groups, sure, but they never decided, or as far as I could tell even though, to keep us all indoors. I guess that sort of freedom wasn’t something they were willing to give up. Instead, they did the neighborhood watch thing. For those few months, I remember my folks meeting more of our neighbors than in all the time previously, or since. Retirees would spend their days out in their front lawns, watching kids and everybody else coming and going. They’d even set up lawn furniture, with umbrellas, even all through the rains of spring. Cops stopped sitting in ambushes on the highways waiting for speeders and instead started patrolling the streets, chatting with us as we’d pass by. Weekends would see all the adults out in their yards, working on cars in the driveways, fixing the gutters, and so on. They had this weird way of looking at you as you’d ride by. Not hostile stares, but it was like they were cataloging your presence. Boy, eight years old, red raincoat silver bike, about 11:30 in the morning, heading south on Sorensen. Seemed fine.
The next time we saw it, it wasn’t in our neighborhood, and I was the one who saw it first. We were visiting Russ, a sort of 5th semi-friend from school. We rarely hung out, mostly owing to geography. His house wasn’t far as the crow flies, but it was up a steep hill. We spent a Saturday afternoon returning a cache of comic books we’d borrowed. The distance we covered was substantial, as we had decided to take lots of extra streets as switchbacks, rather than slowly push our bikes up the too-steep hills.
The descent was going to be the highlight of the trip, up until I saw the Hidebehind. We were on a curving road, a steep forested bluff on one side. The uphill slope was mostly ivy-covered raised foundations for the neighborhood’s houses. That side of the road was lined with parked cars, and the residents of the homes had to ascend steep staircases to get to their front doors.
I was ayt the back of the pack when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Movement, something brown squatting between two closely parked cars. My head snapped as I zoomed past, and despite not getting a good look, I knew it was that terrible thing. “It’s behind us!” I shouted and started pedaling hard. The others looked for themselves as I quickly rushed past them, but they soon joined my pace.
Ralph’s earlier idea of directly confronting the thing was set aside. We were moving too fast, and down too narrow a street to turn around. Then we saw it again it was to our left, off-road, between the trees. Suddenly it leaped from behind one tree trunk to the next and disappeared again. That hardly made sense, the base of the trees must have been thirty feet below the deck of the street we rode down. One of us, I think it was India, let out one of those strangled screams.
There it was again, back on the right, disappearing behind a mailbox as we approached. That couldn’t have been, it must have outpaced us and crossed in front of us. Logic would suggest there was more than one, but somehow the four of us knew it was the same thing. More impossible still, the pole holding up the mailbox was too thin, maybe two inches in diameter, yet that thing had disappeared behind it, like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. It was just enough to catch a better glimpse of it though. All brown. A head seemingly too bulbous and large for its body. Its limbs were thin but far longer, like a gibbon’s. Only a gibbon had normal elbows and knees. This thing bent its joints all wrong like it wasn’t part of the natural order. We were all terrified to wit’s end.
“The trail!” Ralph shouted, and the other three of us knew exactly what he meant. The top of it was only just around the curve. It was a dirt footpath for pedestrians ascending and descending South Hill, cutting through the woods on our left. It was too steep for cars, and to be honest, too steep for bikes. We’d played on it before, challenging each other to see how high up they could go, then descend back down without using our brakes. A short paved cul-de-sac at the bottom was enough space to stop before running into a cross street.
Ralph had held the previous group record, having climbed three-quarters of the way before starting his mad drop. India’s best was just short of that, I had only dared about halfway up, Ben only a third. This time, with certain death on our heels, the trail seemed the only way out. Nothing could have outrun a kid on a bike flying down that hill.
We followed Ralph’s lead, swinging to the right gutter of the street, then hanging a fast wide left up onto the curb, over a patch of gravel, between two boulders set up as bollards, lest a car driver mistake the entrance for a driveway, and then, like a roller coaster cresting the first hill, the bottom fell out.
It was the most overwhelming sensation of motion I’ve ever had, before or since. I suppose the danger behind us was the big reason, and being absolutely certain that only our speed was keeping us alive. I remember thinking it was like the speeder bike scene from Return of the Jedi, also a recent movie from the time. Only this was real. I didn’t just see the trees flashing past it, I could hear the motion as well. Cold air attacked my eyes and long streamers of tears rushed over my cheeks and the drops flew past my ears, I didn’t dare blink. Each little stone my tires struck threatened to up-end me and end it all. Yet, and perhaps worse, half the time it felt like I wasn’t in contact with the ground at all. I was going so fast that those same small stones were sending me an inch or two into the air, and the arc of the flights so closely matched the slope that by the time I contacted the trail again, I was significantly further down the hill.
At the same time, I had never felt more relief, as the thing behind us had no way of catching us now. Somehow, maybe the seriousness of the escape gave us both the motive and the seriousness to keep ourselves under control. Looking back, I marvel that at least one of us didn’t lose control and end up splitting our skulls open.
We hit the pavement of the cul-de-sac below, and didn’t bother to slow down. We raced through the cross-street, one angry driver screeching to a halt and laying on his horn. This brought out the neighborhood watch. Just a few of them at first. Still, we didn’t slow down, our momentum carried us back up the much shallower slope of our neighborhood. Witnesses saw us depart at high speed, and this only brought out more of the watch. We heard whistles behind us, just like our P.E. teacher’s whistle. We figured that was the watch’s alarm siren. Regardless of what happened to that thing, it was behind us. We returned to our homes, shaken, but safe and sound, our inertia taking us almost all of the way there.
Another kid disappeared that Sunday, up on South Hill. We’d suspected it because we could see the lights of the police cars on a high road, surrounding the spot where it would turn out later, one of the kid’s shoes had been found. Russ confirmed it at school on Monday. It was a kid he’d known, lived down the road from his place, went to private school which is why we didn’t recognize his name.
I remember seeing Ralph’s face the next day when he arrived at school. He looked angry. Strong. Like he’d been crying really hard, and now it was over and he was resolved. He said he’d felt guilty because the thing we’d escaped from had gotten the other kid instead. He tried to tell his old man about it, then his mom, then any adult he could. He’d tell them about the monster who hides behind things. They needed to focus on finding and stopping that instead of looking for some sort of creeper or serial killer. Of course, nobody had listened to him. They hadn’t listened to the rest of us either when we’d tried to tell.
So he’d devised a plan. He was calling it the “Fight Patrol,” which we didn’t argue with. If the adults wouldn’t do something, we would. We’d patrol our neighborhood on our bikes, the four of us, maybe a couple more if we could talk others into it. We’d chase it off like that first time, maybe for good, or maybe corner it. Clearly, it could not handle being caught.
Naturally, we brought up the scare on South Hill. He argued that was a bad place. Too isolated, couldn’t turn around easily. We needed to stay on our home turf, lots of visibility, and plenty of the Neighborhood Watch within earshot. Maybe we and the adults working together was the key, even if the adults didn’t understand the problem.
Well, that convinced us. Our first patrol was that afternoon, after school. We watched everybody’s back like hawks. Nothing had a chance to sneak up on us. Nothing could step out from behind a bush without getting spotted. By Friday afternoon there were eight of us. The next week we split up to extend our territory to the next neighborhoods over.
Nothing happened. We never saw anything. Ben thought it was because we were scaring it away. Ralph just thought we were failing, and took it personally. I myself thought the thing had just moved to different parts of town, where the new disappearances were taking place. I told him we should keep it up until the thing was caught.
It was all for naught.
One day, India didn’t show up for school. I asked everybody, the teachers, the office staff, the custodian, my parents. All of them said they didn’t know, and it was so easy to tell that they were lying. That would mark the end of the Fight Patrol.
Ben didn’t show up a couple of days after that. When I got home and collapsed into bed, my mother came in to tell me that Ben’s mother had called. She’d taken him out of school and they were moving elsewhere. I called up Ralph to let him know the news, and he was relieved too.
My last day was Friday, and then I was taken out. Again, I called Ralph so he wouldn’t worry. I guess when there were only two weeks left of school, and it was just grade school, a couple missed weeks don’t amount to much. So I ended up spending the bulk of the summer out in the country, with my grandparents, which was why I brought up my grandpa in the first place.
I suppose I did fine out on their farmhouse. I was safe. There was certainly no shortage of things for a kid to do. I think my mom felt a strong sense of relief too. Things slipped through the cracks.
My grandparents didn’t have cable, too far out of town. They just had an old-school antenna and got a couple of TV stations transmitting out of Canada, Vancouver specifically. I remember one July day, sitting in their living room. My grandmother had just fixed lunch for me and my grandfather and had gone out to do some gardening as we watched the news at noon.
My grandfather was already being ravaged by his illnesses. He was able to get around, but couldn’t do any real labor anymore. He’d lounge in front of the TV in a special lounge chair. He hardly talked, and when he did he’d just mumble some discomfort or complaint to my grandma.
The lead story on the news was the current situation in Farmingham, despite being in the neighboring country, it was still big news in Vancouver, and the whole rest of the region. It seemed the disappearances were declining, but the police were still frantically searching for a supposed serial killer. I didn’t pick up much about what they were talking about, I was a kid after all, but my grandfather was watching intently, despite his infirmity.
He mumbled something, I didn’t catch. I asked him was he said, and as I approached I heard him say “fearsome critters.”
He turned his eyes to me and said again, distinct and in a normal tone of voice, “fearsome critters,” then returned his attention to the screen. “I don’t know why they call them that. Fearsome, sure. But ‘critters?” Makes it sound silly. Like it's some sort of fairy tale that it ain’t. Guess it’s like whistling past the graveyard. Well, they don’t have to worry about them no more, guess they can call them what they like.”
Then he turned to me. “Do you know what it is?” he asked. “Squonk? Hodag? Gouger? Hidebehind?”
“Hidebehind,” I whispered, and he turned back to the TV with a sneer. I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Remember, this would be years before I learned he spent his youth as a lumberjack. And yet, somehow, I knew exactly what we were talking about.
“Hidebehind,” he repeated. “That will do it. They give them such stupid names. The folk back East, that is. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Ohio. Way back in the old days, before my grandfather would have been your age. Back when those places were covered by forests. They didn’t give them silly names back then, no. Back then they were something to worry about. Then they moved on, though. They all went out West, to here, followed the loggers. So as once they didn’t have to worry about them anymore, they started making up silly stories, silly names. “Fearsome critters,” they’d call them. Just tall tales to tell the greenhorns and scare them out of their britches. Then they’d make them even sillier, and tell the stories to little kids to spook them.”
“Not out here they didn’t tell no stories nor make up any names. It was bad enough they followed us out. I had no clue they even existed until I saw one for myself. Bout your age, I suppose. Maybe a little older. Nobody ever talks about them. Not even when they take apart a work crew, one by one. They just pull the crews back. Wait till mid-summer when the land is dry but not too dry. Then they move the crews in, a lot of them. Do some burning, make a lot of smoke. Drives them deeper into the woods, you know. Then you can cut the whole damn place down. But nobody asks why, nobody tells why. The people who know just take care of it.”
“I guess that’s why they’re coming to us now. All the old woods are almost gone. So they’ve got to. Like mountain lions. I supposed it’s going to happen sooner or later.”
We heard my grandma come into the back door to the utility room, and stomp the dirt off her boots. My grandfather turned to me one last time and said, “Whichever way you look at it, somebody’s just got to take care of it.” Then my grandmother came in from the utility room and asked us how our lunch had been.
Now that I look back at it, that might have been the last time my grandfather and I really had a meaningful talk.
We moved back home in late August. I had been having a fantastic summer. Though looking back, I suppose it could be rough for a still-young woman to be living in her aging parents' house when she’s got a perfectly good husband and house of her own in town.
First thing I did was visit Ralph. He’d been busy. He’d fortified his treehouse into a proper, well, tree fort. He’d nailed a lot of reinforcing plywood over everything. He hadn’t gone out on patrols by himself, of course, but the height of the tree fort afforded him a view of the nearest streets. He’d also made some makeshift weapons out of old baseball bats, a hockey stick, and a garden rake. The sharp rocks he’d attached to them with masking tape didn’t look very secure, but it’d only take one or two good blows with that kind of firepower. He also explained he’d been teaching himself kung fu, by copying all the movies he saw on kung fu movies late at night on the unpopular cable channels. That was classic Ralph.
As for the monster, it seemed to be going away. Its last victim had disappeared weeks previously, part of the reason my mom felt it was time to go back. This had been at night too. What’s more, the victim had been a college student, a very petite lady, barely five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. The news had speculated that their presumptive serial killer had assumed she was a child. I remember thinking the Hidebehind didn’t care. Maybe it just thought she couldn’t run fast enough to get away or put up a fight when he caught her. Like a predator.
At any rate, the college students were incensed. Of course, they’d been hyper-alert and concerned when it was just local kids going missing. Now that it was one of their own the camel’s back had broken. They really went hard on the protests, blaming the local police for not doing enough.
They started setting up their own patrols, and at night too. Marches with sometimes dozens of students at a time. They called it “Take Back the Night.” They’d walk the streets, making sure they’d be heard. Some cared drums or tambourines. They’d help escort people home, and sometimes they’d unintentionally stop random crimes they’d happen across. I felt like this was what the Fight Patrol could have been, if we’d just been old enough, or had been listened to. This would be the endgame for the Hidebehind, one way or another.
I stayed indoors the rest of the summer, and really there wasn’t much left. It doesn’t get too hot in the Pacific Northwest, nobody has air conditioners, or at least we didn’t back then. It will get stuffy though, in August, and I liked to sleep with my window open. I could hear the chants and challenges from the student patrols on their various routes. Sometimes I could hear them coming from far away, and every now and then they’d pass down my street. It felt like a wonderful security blanket.
I also liked the honeysuckle my mother had planted around the perimeter of the house. Late at night, if I was struggling to fall asleep, the air in my bedroom would start to circulate. Cold air would start pouring in over my windowsill, bringing the sweet scent of that creepervine with it, and I’d the sensation before finally passing out.
This one night, and I have no knowledge if I was awake, asleep, or drifting off, but the air in the room changed, and cooler air poured over the windowsill and swept over my bed, but it didn’t carry the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Regardless of my initial state, I was alert pretty quickly. It was a singularly unpleasant smell. A bit like death, which at that age I was mostly unfamiliar with, except a time some animal had died underneath the crawlspace of our house. There was more to it, though. The forest, the deep forest. I don’t know and still don’t know, what that meant. Most smells I associate with the forest are pleasant. Cedar, pine needles, thick loam of the forest floor, campfires, even the creosote and turpentine of those old timey-logging camps. This was none of those smells. Maybe… rotting granite, and the spores of slime molds. Mummified hemlocks and beds of needles compressed into something different than soil. It disturbed me.
So I sat up in bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but I’d been sweating, just lightly in the stuffy summer night heat. Now it was turning cold. Before me was my bedroom window. A lit rectangle in a pitch-dark room. To either side were my white, opened curtains, the one on the right, by the open half of the window, stirred just slightly in the barely perceptible breeze.
Most of the rectangle was the black form of the protective cypress tree. Only the slight conical nature of the tree distinguished it from a perfectly vertical column. To either side was a dim soft orange glow coming from the sodium lamps of the street passing by our house. It was perhaps a bit diffuse from the screen set in my window to keep out mosquitos. In the distance was the sound of an approaching troupe of the Take Back the Night patrol. They were neither drumming nor chanting, but still making plenty of noise. They were, perhaps, three or four blocks away, and heading my way.
For some reason that I didn’t understand, I got up, off of the foot of the bed. The window, being closer, appeared bigger. I took a silent step further. The patrol approached closer. Another step. I leaned to my right, just a bit, getting a slightly wider view to the left of the cypress tree. That was the direction the patrol was coming from.
That was when it resolved. The deeper black silhouette within the black silhouette of the cypress tree. A small lithe frame with a too-bulbous head. It too leaned, in its case, to the left, to see around the cypress tree as the patrol approached. They reached our block,on the other side of the street. A dozen rowdy college students, not trying to be quiet. None of them fearing the night. Each feeling safe and determined, and absorbed in their own night out rather than being overtly sensitive to their surroundings. They were distracted, unfocused If they had been peering into the shadows, if just one of them had looked towards my house, behind the cypress tree, they might have seen the Hidebehind, poking its face out and watching them transit past. But they didn’t notice.
It hid behind the cypress tree, and I hid behind it, hoping that the blackness of my bedroom would protect me. I stood absolutely still, as I had done once when a hornet had once landed on the back of my neck. Totally assure that if I made the slightest movement or made the slightest sound that I’d be stung. I hardly even breathed.
The patrol passed, from my perspective, behind the cypress tree and temporarily out of view. The Hidebehind straightened, ready to lean to the right and watch the patrol pass, only it didn’t lean. Even as I watched the patrol pass on to the right, it stood there, stock still, just as I was doing.
It was then I became aware that my room had become stuffy again. The scent was gone. The air had shifted and was now flowing out through the screen again, carrying my own scent with it. I knew what this meant, and yet I was too paralyzed to react. The thing started to turn, very slowly. It was a predator understanding that it might have become victim to its own game. It turned as if it was thinking the same thing I had been thinking, that the slightest movement might give it away.
It turned, and I saw its face. Like some kind of rotting desiccated, shriveling fruit, it was covered in wrinkles. Circles within concentric circles surrounded its two great eyes, eyes which took up so much of its face. I couldn’t, and still struggle, to think of words to describe it. Instead, I still think in terms of analogies. At the time I thought of the creature from the film E.T., only twisted and distorted into a thing of nightmares. Almost all eyelids, and a little drooping sucker mouth. Now that I’m more worldly, it reminds of creatures of ancient artworks. The key defining feature were the long horizontal slits it had for eyes. You see that in old masks carved in West Africa, or by the Inuit long ago. You see it in what’s called the “slit-eyed dogu” of ancient Japan.
As I watched the wrinkles on the face seemed to multiply. Then I realized this was the result of its eyes slowly widening. It’s mouth, too, slowly dilated, revealing innumerable small razor-sharp teeth. A person, standing in its location, shouldn’t have been able to see in. Light from the sodium streetlamps lit the window’s screen, obscuring the interior. It was no person. It could see me, and it was reacting to my presence. Its eyes grew huge, black.
My own eyes would have been just as wide if not for my own anatomical limitations. I was still watching when it disappeared. It didn’t see it move to the right. I didn’t see it move to the left, nor did I see it drop down out of view. It simply disappeared. One fraction of a second it was there, and then it decided to leave, and so it did. It was not a thing of this world.
There were no more disappearances after that poor woman from the university. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. The media and police all speculated their “serial killer” had gone into a “dormant phase”. There was no shortage of people who tried to take credit. Maybe they deserve it. The thing’s hunting had been on the decline. All the neighborhood watches and student patrols, I think that maybe all that commotion was making it too hard for the Hidebehind to go about its business. Maybe it had gone back to the woods.
Then again, maybe Ralph had been right the whole time. Maybe it really, really, really didn’t like to be seen.
So.
Now I’ve got some decisions to make. I think the first thing I should do is look at social media and dig up Ralph. It’s been a good thirty years since I last talked to him. He ought to know the Hidebehind is back. He’s probably made plans.
Then, there’s the issue of my son. He’s up in his bedroom now, probably still mad at me. Probably confused about why I’d be so strict. Maybe he’s inventing explanations as to why.
I’m not sure, but I’m leaning toward telling him everything. He deserves to know. It’d probably be safer if he knows. I think people have this instinct where, when they see or know something that they’re not supposed to know, they just bottle it up. I think that was the problem with grown-ups when I was a kid. It was the issue with my grandfather, telling me so little when it was almost too late. I think people do it because we’re social animals, and we’re afraid of being ostracized. Go along to get along.
Hell, my son is probably going to think I’m crazy. It might even make him more mad at me. And even more confused. He knows about the disappearances. “The Farmingham Fiend” the media would end up dubbing the serial killer that didn’t really exist. It’s become local “true crime” history. Kids tell rumors about it. It was almost forty years ago, so it probably feels safe to wonder about.
So yeah, I suppose when I say I know who the real killer was, a magical monster from the woods that stalks its prey by hiding behind objects, then impossibly disappears- that I’m going to look like a total nut. I’d think that if I were in his shoes.
Except… people are going to start disappearing again, it’s only a matter of time. The media will say that the Farmingham Fiend is back in the game. Will my son buy that? He’ll start thinking about what I told him, and how I predicted it. Then he’ll remember that he saw the thing himself, he and his friends, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye.
I hope, sooner or later, he’ll believe me. I could use his help. Maybe Ralph is way ahead of me, but I’m thinking we should get the Fight Patrol back together. Father and son, this time. Multigenerational, get the retirees involved too.
Old farts of my generation, for reasons I don’t understand, like to wax nostalgic over their own false sense of superiority. We rode our bikes without helmets and had distant if not irresponsible parents. Yeah, yeah, what a load. I think every new generation is better than the last, because every generation is a progression from the last, Kids these days? They’ve got cell phones, with cameras. And helmet cams. GoPros you can attach to bikes. Doorbell cameras.
It seems the Hidebehind loathes being seen. This time around, with my grandfather’s spirit, my own memories, and my boy’s energy? I think this time we’re finally going to beat it.

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It only took a moment. By the time Keyaruga opened his eyes… Or, well, what felt like an awakening, either way, he found himself in a realm of endless light. As dazzling as it might’ve looked, it never blinded the man… nor all of his companions, standing in this luminous wasteland.
“Girls! Girls, are you alright?!” The red-eyed lad dashed toward the four of them, trying to give them a warm hug, while the golden egg rested nearby.
“Uh-huh.” Setsuna happily accepted his embrace, and, being the first to reply, she wanted to share her experience, to tell everyone about everything she’d been through, but alas, only she alone could properly pass this trial by redeeming herself in the face of her fallen brethren. Sadly, everyone else was a lot less eager to drop their guard.
“Oh, look, I think that’s over.” Ellen noticed, addressing her sister, who still held her staff in preparation to break into that last remaining dome. But no, everything had come to an end… Now, they only needed to face Caladrius.
“I don’t think we’re ready. We… never could’ve received their forgiveness fairly…” The world-breaking sorceress lamented, slamming her staff into the floor, just so she wouldn’t collapse. Of course, the Hero of Healing came to her rescue, but she just forced herself to stand still. “T-thanks… But… I’m not the one, who needs you the most right now.” The elder princess spoke, pointing to Eve. She stood a few steps away from them, staring into the void.
“Fucking pigeon, I knew we shouldn’t have come here…” The fallen warlady uttered, looking at the queen-to-be, who seemed absolutely lost to the world. No tears had yet been spilled from her crimson eyes; no concerns to those around her were given either.
“How are you, Eve?” The man asked, trying to get closer to his companion, but she merely took a step away from him.
STAY AWAY FROM ME, MONSTER!!!
These words still resounded in his head, tormenting the lad more than any sort of torture could, and seeing Eve shying away from him, filled his heart with so much sorrow, that he barely held his breath still. He had to… Otherwise, he’d certainly cry.
“Eve…”
“It’s alright… I’ve met Yuel, Mero, and Naala… It’s alright, I’ve met… Naala, and… I’ve met… M… Mero…” When the girl finally opened her mouth, she started blabbering the same thing over and over again. Whatever she had to suffer through, it left a great scar in her mind… “M-mom… Dad… W-why?.. Why did you-?..” And finally, she broke. Tears started flowing from her painfully swollen eyes, and the girl finally collapsed on her knees. “Ugh… Uh… UA-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!” And just like that, a loud wail thundered around this quiet space of endless light, the substance that just formed a tunnel made of mystical illumination. A safe passage to the outside world, certainly.
But no, nobody would go anywhere just yet, not until Eve Reese calms down at least. All that the others could do was to wait. Wait and be there for her.
…
A warm sun, a breeze of wind, fresh air under a blue sky – one never misses those things, until they’re devoid of them entirely. Either way, now that the party left that accursed realm, they found themselves at the same valley from which Caladrius sent them on to the trial.
“…” They were silent, all of them, starting with Keyaruga, now carrying the gilded egg on his back again. He was still trying to get over what he saw. Even if Anna indeed forgave him, and had not just gone mad over what kind of ruthless beast her ward became, her words would never leave his mind.
“Easy now.” Setsuna spoke, supporting Eve, as she barely moved her legs. Ellen walked nearby, still unsure what she should do with Organ’s plea. Both she and her sister heard it, but neither could face the man with that. Not now, not when the hero, even though he remained calm and collected, somehow looked even worse than his broken queen.
Then…
“Caladrius.” The sorceress spoke, stopping before the massive ten-meter tall bird. Weirdly enough, the group only noticed her when they were just four meters away from her massive feathered body, her torso was covered with a golden cuirass, painted in purple, along with the beak-plate which served the harbinger of plague as a crown. All of them ultimately aligned their sights with her four eyes. The wisdom of ages was reflected there, but alas, it was overshadowed by what can only be called ultimate arrogance.
“There you are little ones.” The divine bird spoke, lowering her head just enough, so that humans wouldn’t have to look up all the time. Still, even that gesture wasn’t enough for Freia to drop her weapon.
“Et aperire caelum elementa multa…” The sorceress began chanting her ultimate spell. This time, she wouldn’t take any chances. After what she’d done to Eve, this creature had to die! Or else…
“Don’t… do this.” Well, that turn of event wouldn’t please the goddess. And such, the kokuyoku scion broke out from Setsuna’s embrace just to stand between the caster and her living idol.
“Have we passed?” Keyaruga, asked, standing besides the black-winged prodigy. After all, the further development would depend on their result on this test. Or, rather, how the host reacts.
“You sure did. Your methods were… unorthodox, to say the least.” Caladrius replied, giving each of the party a deep scrutinizing look. Her doubled eyes were fixated on Keyaruga, especially. “You, shapeshifted children, I sense a great darkness in you three. And yet, none of you should fear me anymore.” She said with that middle-aged womanly voice of hers, urging Freia to lower her staff already. “No matter, you merely had to prove to me your endurance, erudition, and the power of your will to become worthy of my grace. I care little for how exactly you survived under my plague, and what you said to placate those who came for you. I am actually rather delighted to see such a contrarian attitude with which you passed my test.”
“You fucking should be!” Ellen snarled, ragingly pressing her finger against the shielded beak. “Your trials were impassable for everyone besides us! You knew that! You knew nobody could beat them without wrecking your little salty mumbo-jumbo!” The girl accused the bird, as if she was just some ungracious host, and not one of the mightiest entities in all the continent of Enoa.
“It’s true! Without my power, we’d starve in your city!” The magician added, pushing her sister behind her back. “How many of Evy’s people had to die because of you? You… You know a demon can’t be a hero, like me!”
“They can, we just cannot risk them falling under the control of something...malevolent.” Caladrius argued with a deliberately ambiguous comment. “To reach the heart of my domain, all you had to do was to calculate the logic in the fractal sequence of…”
“Bullshit! There were no fractals! No building was like the rest, so either you’re spitting lies here, or just think none of us knows math!” The little genius interrupted the explanation with another one of her bitter comments. “Oh, let me guess-!..”
“Enough.” The younger princess was then silenced by Setsuna, who covered her mouth with her hand – a radical move, to say the least, but not entirely out of place, when dealing with an overwhelmingly powerful creature.
“Hmm, I like your tenacity, Norn Clatalissa Jioral, but you only saw my domain from the outside.” The harbinger of plague notified her, but rather then proceeding further with the matter of the bratty general challenging her, she turned her head toward Eve, who stood next to Keyaruga. “It has been a long time, since we saw each other, Me-ua. I am glad to see this new consort of yours is much more respectful toward you. Yet somehow, he is even more depraved than the last one.” And just like that, the deity revealed her insight of the first world, Eve’s close alliance with Keyaruga, and how fortunate she was to have him around instead of Cornar. But that wasn’t the most intriguing part of this.
“I know. It’s… been two years since last met.” It was the reply that the verdant woman gave her, that brought to light a terrifically curious fact.
“Eve… you too?” Keyaruga murmured, realizing, that he now had one more dreamer alongside him. The man exhaled in comprehension, his ‘sister’ slammed her palm against her own forehead, Setsuna spotted a new soul to provide emotional care to, and Freia just couldn’t help but… Well, her feelings about this new revelation were mixed at best. She did want to find out what she’d done ‘back’ then, but at the same time, in doing so, she would certainly discover a lot more cruelties done by her hand; especially those directed at Keyaru.
“I need strength. Bless me, Caladrius. And… age me. I can’t remain a child now.” Eve all but demanded. Somehow, she wasn’t just a fearful kid anymore. This time, the Me-ua kahul radiated dignity, she even spoke with the deity as an equal.
“Very well, little queen. You were never undeserving of my grace.” And with that said, Caladrius carefully touched Eve’s forehead with her beak. Upon doing so, a whirlwind of energy, a flux of white and purple, picked up the girl, and enveloped her completely. Looking at it felt so familiar for Keyaruga. After all, this power destroyed and created, ruined one to shape another. All the clothes Eve had been wearing were torn apart, reduced to primal particles, her skin was scourged, and then replaced with one of a tanned tone, the girl’s hair was bleached, and above it – a crown of two pointy horns grew right from her skull. This wasn’t just a girl now – this was a woman, clad in a dress of red and black, the decorative pauldrons of which, as well as golden bracelets, defied the power of gravity itself. This… was how Keyaru met the Me-ua in the first world.
And what had changed in her stat-wise? Well, nothing – that same fifty-fourth level, with which Eve entered the trial, no change in potential, nor any other graph. Except for one…
Level cap: ∞
“Congratulations, Eve. You’re a hero now.” The red-eyed lad praised his companion. In just a moment, she aged by four years. Her face was still young and pretty, her height got only slightly longer, but the proportions made the whole difference. Hips and breasts – they got some improvements, which the healer would never miss.
“I suppose this settles our deal. With this, you can summon me again.” The harbinger of sickly doom graciously spoke to her chosen one. Unlike other gods, she couldn’t just change a person’s entire class. A full-fledged hero didn’t only have the potential for infinite growth, but also provided a bonus of doubled experience for them and their party, the trait that Eve lacked. Still, Caladrius giving her champion an unlimited level cap was a game-changer nonetheless. Nevertheless, there was one more thing to ponder… “Although… you already know the price for my assistance.”
“Of fucking course! You’ll kill her for that, you monster!” Ellen raged, stomping her little foot against the rocky ground, while her sister braced for whatever consequences her sibling’s brutal honesty might cause.
“Forgive her, Caladrius. She’s just… too worried about me.” The lady in red spoke kindly, patting the god’s golden beak.
“Hmm. That is, indeed, relatable. Still, how precious it is to see your former enemies now have become your allies. Is that your accomplishment, little man?” The white bird asked of the hero. Did she try to offend him? Not so much, really. To her, even a draconid of a baffling two and a half meters tall would still be ‘small’. That didn’t make it less insulting, though.
“Yes. Why?” Keyaruga growled, facing two pairs of eyes, with which Caladrius gazed into him, right to his very soul. The healer had a similar power, but being read himself filled him with at least cautiousness toward the deity.
Flare – she was the one, who brought so much pain to Eve’s heart, she scourged thousands, and even if they were revived by Keyaru’s redo, the queen’s memories still held this agony.
Norn – this one lead armies against Tenanulic*,* her vile strategies were never burdened by human decency or a warrior’s concept of honor. Scourged earth, poisoned wells, hand-crafted epidemics, bribery, and genocide – this little girl was responsible for so many atrocities, that she had broken her own spirit by committing them.
And, finally, Keyaru. The Hero of Healing, who was there to land the last strike on the demon queen. Only Setsuna was completely innocent, just because she’d die from the disease caused by a monster’s rotting corpse, if not for this enigmatic man.
“Eve Reese – it is your call now. What should I do with them?” And so, the white-haired lady was given a choice. Right now, Caladrius could unleash all of her power without asking for anything in return. Even if she herself suffered from fatigue after conducting all those trials, the harbinger of plague could still easily bury her enemies under a pile of toxic ash. Still, it wasn’t for her to choose now.
“Oh well, now we’re screwed.” Ellen chuckled, shaking her head. Freia and Setsuna assumed a battle stance, and even Keyaruga gave the girl a dark glare.
I’m sorry, birdie. But if you endanger my girls, I… You’ll have to see me as I truly am.
The deep silence loomed above them all. One word, one single word could decide the party’s fate. To Caladrius, not only were they outsiders, but also the enemies of her champion as well. No matter if their crimes were mostly erased, she just didn’t really trust them.
But she trusted Eve.
“Bless them, like you’ve blessed me.” The Me-ua kahul asked, smiling toward her friends and the man she loved. The woman absolutely comprehended the power she was given, and yet, there were things, people, little kindnesses, that she could never forget. Not after they helped her to break free from the chains placed upon her in the first world.
“Evy…” Freia muttered with obvious relief. She glanced at Keyaruga, and he looked as stoic as he did most of the time. Did he learn that from Setsuna? After all, she too merely lowered her arms.
“He-he-he-he-heh…” Only one of them nervously chuckled. The crimson-haired princess just wanted this excruciating day to end at last, even if it barely began.
“Oh my! That is quite bold of you to ask.” Caladrius pronounced somewhat mockingly. After all, she was never obliged to reward humans (including demi-humans) just for surviving her challenges.
“Do you refuse?” Eve inquired accusingly. It made the others wonder, what kind of power she really had over the full-fledged god.
“I never said so. It is… different with them. My power is contagious, and only the ancient pact with your tribe allows you to safely enjoy my grace.” The toxic deity explained, now looking at the party with a deep thoughtfulness in her doubled eyes. “We can figure something out.” She added, drawing her beak near the brooding man. “Hmm, you are quite the curious individual, a human, yet, at the same time, something very different.”
“How should I take this ‘compliment’?” The hero wondered, trying to figure out if he was being accused of the many atrocities he committed during his test, or the sheer turmoil that was his sense of morals.
“Take it as your three hearts would please.” Fortunately, though, the feathered doom simply brushed it off by hinting at his modified biology. After all, now that he was under the protection of Eve, there was only one question to answer. “Will you accept my gift?” Caladrius inquired, cautiously watching the lad’s reaction. He wasn’t all that sure than he needed anything else to be complete. Not when he was almost immortal.
“Please, Keyaruga…” And, yet again, the black-winged prodigy asked him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She would never do something like that previously – the little girl was no more, she had changed forever. But, that didn’t dissuade the healer from liking and trusting her, so…
“Alright. I suppose, it can’t get much worse.” The man just shrugged, accepting whatever he could be granted. The lad wouldn’t drop his guard, though. After all, if anything happens to him, it was quite doubtful that Freia could handle this beast on her own.
“Very well.” Aware of this distrust, Caladrius once again placed her beak onto another’s head. Keyaruga didn’t receive a fancy transformation; instead, his left eye got embraced by a gentle purple light. It only stung for a moment, but when it ended, a whole new perspective opened before the hero. Something… intrinsically transcendental.
“Did you just replace… my eye?” The lad asked, trying to figure out what was going on. Barely anything changed… except for the fact that now he saw his own movements from two seconds afar. He was seeing the future…
“Indeed. You are not a stranger to our divine might, so you can handle it.” Caladrius admonished, standing in her full height, just to stretch her neck, as it seemed.
“Is that your power?” Keyaruga wondered, suppressing his left eye. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience with the gift of the star nymph, so it only took him a few seconds to figure out how it worked. That was absolutely necessary; not only did this power drain a whole lot of mana, it also required some time to get used to.
“Mine? Of course not! This gift was born of sacrifice. One feisty demigod gave me his power to me in order to enter my trials. I merely improved upon it.” The harbinger of plague spoke proudly, giving a brief glance toward Ellen.
“That idiot…” The girl snarled, making a sour face. “What? It was Organ! He saved me! Now you have his eye, brother, or… whatever this purple cross on your pupil is.” The fallen warlady revealed, glancing toward the Hero of Magic as well as the rest of the group. After all, if Hawkeye wasn’t there, Freia would only have found her mauled corpse.
“Then, the egg.” Caladrius continued, now tapping her beak against the egg. And just like that, she poured quite a lot of her mana into it, but, just like previously, it consumed everything the bird offered. “You carry a powerful being on your back, little man.”
“Stronger than you?” He wondered somewhat mockingly.
“Indeed.” But the feathered doom wasn’t about to joke about that particular matter. “I owe her a lot, so this is the least I can do.” The god of sickness and rejuvenation spoke with a trace of adoration and… regret. Maybe, that is the true power? To raise others, when you can, so that they may assist you in the time of your greatest need?
“I don’t need anything!” Freia exclaimed when the doubled eyes of Caladrius were now aimed at her. “I just need an answer! Tell me, what’s with my mother?! Is she alive? Can we help her?!” The sorceress asked bravely, her legs were shaky, partly because of the fatigue, partly – the fear of facing the mighty god. Nonetheless, it’s easy to be daring when nothing can oppose you. A standoff against the powerful being is completely different matter.
“Ah, Reeharoze Thalio Jioral! She… is neither dead, nor alive.” The divine dove replied cautiously. This topic lead to many limitations, sealed by numerous and tremendously powerful curses for each deity, who might reveal them.
“Damn! I knew it!” The sorceress snarled, loudly clacking with her teeth. She and Setsuna both tensed, having already faced whatever monstrosity the king turned Buck Tarwill into.
“The best thing you can do for her is to end her suffering in this world.” Caladrius spoke dismissively, lacking any empathy toward some distant mortal, defiled by the power that is the void itself.
“Go kill yourself, if you think it’s merciful!” Ellen snarled, spitting in the direction of the deity. She wouldn’t have anyone defile her mother’s memory, even a god, even if it literally disintegrated her saliva right in the fly.
“Calm down.” Fortunately, though, Setsuna was right there to help the younger princess. She stood between the two of them, but instead of doing anything aggressive, the gray-haired girl just hugged her crimson-haired lover, and guarded her from the harbinger of plague with her spine.
“How can we help her?!” Keyaruga then asked, trying to be a beacon of logic and reason among all of these tormented souls. Eve stood near; she carefully monitored the lad’s movements, reactions, his gestures, and overall attitude.
“You cannot. At least not right now.” Caladrius coldly responded, shifting her heavy gaze toward the man; to be specific – the burden on his back. “But this one – if she desires so, then you might have some hope.” The bird explained briefly. Obviously, nobody among the party was satisfied with the answer.
“We must help them. Please, you must help us!” Even the white-haired queen-to-be spoke up. She already lost her parents twice, and now in assisting Freia and Ellen she saw a chance to ease her own pain.
“I am afraid, my vows prevent me from revealing to you the whole truth, but rest assured, you will find your answer soon enough.” The harbinger of plague and convalescence reassured all of them. Was it a godly prediction of the future? Or something else entirely?
“Then… Then I!..” Freia shook, trying to comprehend this revelation. She now looked at the egg with reverence and craving. She saw nothing but a tool in it, and that didn’t escape Setsuna’s aquamarine eyes.
“Not so fast. It’s Keyaruga’s child (and ours). Don’t put all your hopes on her just yet.” The huntress admonished, still holding Ellen, as she slowly recovered her emotional stability. The ice warrior was trying to save her prodigy from the burden of other’s expectations, but that affected the pink-haired magician only so much.
“Wise words, child of the forest. But just like your claws, they lack penetrative power.” Caladrius stated, and just as she said so, a multitude of small fireflies emerged around the girl. Or, rather, they became visible. These sparks were always there, the spirits of ice, fueling the she-wolf’s magic. Now they gathered around the divine bird’s head, forming something of a halo. They didn’t stay for too long, though, but when they left Caladrius’ side, their gray shine, now infused with the might of the god, now became much brighter, much… colder. “I am afraid; I cannot do much more for your sake, little one.” And with that done, there was only one person, who still remained to be given anything. “Now…”
“Don’t you even dare, you ugly pigeon! I don’t need your rotten power!” Ellen yelled, awkwardly falling out of Setsuna’s grasp. It wasn’t long before she rose up and once again pressed her finger against Caladrius’ gilded beak. At least, she was about to do so, when she pointed at the queen-to-be instead. “If you want to give me something – don’t! Just don’t! All I need from you is to not treat Eve like your glorified snack, okay?! Look, my sister is the Hero of Magic, she can basically do everything you do, but she doesn’t need to eat anyone to cast her spells! So how can you be so entitled to ask for her life?!” The younger princess snarled, as her emerald eyes rapidly shifted between Eve, Freia, Keyaruga, and the divine dove. The latter was taken aback by that passionate speech, unsure if she had to take grievous offence from belittling her might, or outright cackle from this observation. One problem, though – the former had lost her already fragile balance.
“Eve? Are you alright?” Keyaruga asked, catching the black-winged lady in his grip. She was pale, drained, fatigued – this wasn’t just physical weariness, though. The aftermath of the trial caught up with her, now reinforced by the reminder of how terrible a price she’d have to pay for Caladrius’ power.
“Yes…” Eve mumbled, trying to stand on her feet, but the man wouldn’t let her just yet.
“Hold onto me.” He said, trying to be the support for Eve at her lowest time.
“That is an interesting thing to hear from someone like you.” The feathered deity spoke to Ellen. Despite that entire scene, her account with the capricious genius wasn’t paid yet. “At first, you have got my curiosity. Now, you proved to be worthy of my power.” The harbinger of plague added, facing the younger princess now.
“Fuck you! I already said what I need from you, godling!” Still, the obstinate lady wasn’t there to grovel before the glorified dove. She already had a role to adhere to – Norn, Ellen, whatever she was called – was a strategist, a great mind capable of preserving massive amounts of knowledge just by quickly reading it once.
“Creators be merciful, you are a stubborn creature.” Caladrius amused. To her, watching the crimson-haired girl rant was like looking at a overly vocal pup – all bark, but no bite. Not because it wasn’t brave enough, though. Ellen just wasn’t gifted with a strong maw. And that was something Caladrius could help her with. “You are deserving of becoming my apostle!”
“Hah… W-what?” Keyaruga’s ‘sister’ got so dumbfounded, that her head just went round. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, though, this dizziness made her nauseous.
“You will get exactly what you wish for, and even more, Norn Clatalissa Jioral! Heed me, Eve. I now grant you two chances to summon me without any harm for you!” The harbinger of disease and rejuvenation notified her mistress. It was still dwarfed, compared to what Flare had done, when paired with Gard the Windbreak, and still…
“I… But I don’t…” This little grace nearly pulled the rug out from under Eve’s feet. But again, Keyaruga was there to give her the necessary support.
“And you, princess in name, but no blood, shall be the vessel of my power!” Caladrius declared, turning her determined gaze onto Ellen. Her sister stood nearby, unsure what she should do with that. She knew Norn could be headstrong, at best, even when it came to the things that would benefit her personally. Just like when she refused the offer from her ‘brother’ to age her body to an adult form.
“Make it four usages for Eve, and leave me alone! I don’t need anyone’s pow-!.. Ah!” Right as she was about to start a new scandal with her big mouth, the younger princess rose in the sky, caught by a purple wind from underneath the deity’s giant wings.
“You do not know what is good for you, child!” The god of rot and restoration snarled, as if she was an arrogant petty parent.
“Ghhh!” Freia hissed, waving her staff to break Ellen out of Caladrius’ grip. She succeeded, and Ellen fell in the hands of the Hero of Magic… but it was already too late.
“Oh no… Oh no-no-no-no!” The younger princess frantically shook her head, as her muscles trembled with the newfound strength. It seems, she was no longer a useless child on a battlefield. One would think she’d be glad with this turn of events… But no. “K-Ke… Keya… Keyaruga-a-a! What’s she done to me?!” The girl yelled, reaching for her ‘brother’. He and his lady in red came closer to the girl.
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Freia screamed, accumulating whatever mana she could drain from this lifeless land, even trying to drain Caladrius of it. She proved unsuccessful, though.
“Freia, don’t.” Keyaruga ordered, painting his right eye in the jade hue. He was just about to see something truly majestic.
Race: Human
Name: Norn
Class: Apostle of Caladrius
Level: 52
Mana: 151/151
Physical attack: 42
Physical defense: 53
Magic attack: 67
Magic defense: 60
Speed: 75
Abilities:
The aspect of plague: 1st level
The aspect of revival: 1st level
Skills:
Boost to Mana regen: 1st level. The skill of the Apostle of Caladrius, boosts Mana regen by 5%
Mnemonics: acquired skill. Greatly improves mental capacity and remembering speed.
Grace of Caladrius: skill of the Apostle of Caladrius. Gives boost to the magic learning speed of Caladrius’ aspects by 2x
And also…
Level cap: 66
Potential:
Mana: 115
Physical attack: 32
Physical defense: 40
Magic attack: 51
Magic defense: 45
Speed: 57
Summary: 342
Fascinating! Although Ellen’s potential was almost twice as low as the others’, due to her having no royal heritage, or hero’s status, Caladrius not only managed to bypass the age of fourteen, a standard timestamp for a human, but also pump the girl with more than fifty levels!
“She… has given you a class… And you’re now on the fifty-second level…” Keyaruga spoke with his eyes widely opened. Seriously, in terms of progression, this was an act of pure, blatant favoritism on the deity’s side of things!
And how did Ellen take this gift?
“FUCKER!!! THAT’S TOO MUCH EVEN FOR A JOKE!!!” Oh, she was positively furious. After all, no power comes without a price to pay. “You! Who the fuck gave you the right to do this to me?!” The younger princess dashed in the direction of Caladrius’ beak. She eloped Setsuna’s grapple, passed around Keyaruga and Eve – all for the sake of that one punch! One punch to the head of this pompous pigeon with all of her new might! One strike… that didn’t even break the ornamental barrier around the bird.
“Rest assured, child. You have zero obligations before me. I am not the monster you are trying to make of me. You may think of that as my way of thanking you for helping my followers.” With that said and done, Caladrius once again rose to her full height in preparation for flying away. “I hope this alleviates your worries, little one. Farewell, du-na Me-ua (o great demon king). We shall meet again.” And just like that, the massive figure rose into the air. And when she’d done so, a white mist engulfed the deity, in which she faded from view completely.

India is a country that has become even more enchanting during the monsoon season. The monsoons bring a respite from the scorching heat and transform the lush green hills into a breathtaking spectacle. India's hill stations, nestled amidst the Western Ghats and the Himalayas, become a paradise during this time, offering a unique and mesmerizing experience to visitors. In this article, we will explore seven captivating and the best hill stations in India where you can truly immerse yourself in the magic of the monsoons.
1. Munnar, Kerala:
Located in the Western Ghats of Kerala, Munnar is a haven of tranquility and natural beauty. The monsoons drench the tea gardens and spice plantations, creating an ethereal ambiance. The mist-covered hills and cascading waterfalls add to the allure. Take a leisurely walk amidst the tea gardens, breathe in the refreshing scent of wet earth, and witness the symphony of raindrops falling on the leaves. The picturesque landscapes and the pleasant weather make Munnar an irresistible destination during the monsoons.
2. Lonavala-Khandala, Maharashtra:
Situated in the Sahyadri Range near Mumbai, Lonavala-Khandala is a popular hill station renowned for its scenic beauty. During the monsoons, the entire region transforms into a lush green paradise. The misty valleys, gushing waterfalls, and iconic vantage points like Tiger Point and Rajmachi Point offer breathtaking views. Take a hike to the mesmerizing Bhushi Dam or explore the ancient Karla and Bhaja caves. The cool monsoon breeze and the captivating landscapes of Lonavala-Khandala will leave you spellbound.
3. Shimla, Himachal Pradesh:
Shimla, the capital of Himachal Pradesh, is a timeless hill station that becomes even more enchanting during the monsoon season. The rain-washed forests, blooming wildflowers, and mist-covered mountains create a dreamlike ambiance. Take a stroll on Mall Road, explore the colonial architecture, and savor a hot cup of tea while enjoying the panoramic views of the surrounding hills. Don't miss visiting Chadwick Falls, where the cascading water gushes down amidst lush greenery, providing a spectacular sight.
4. Coorg, Karnataka:
Known as the "Scotland of India," Coorg in Karnataka is a breathtaking hill station that comes alive during the monsoons. The verdant coffee plantations, misty hills, and cascading waterfalls make it a perfect destination for nature lovers. Trek through the enchanting trails of Pushpagiri Wildlife Sanctuary, visit the mesmerizing Abbey Falls or simply relax amidst the aroma of coffee in a cozy homestay. Coorg offers a rejuvenating experience, immersing you in the magic of the monsoons.
5. Darjeeling, West Bengal:
Perched in the Himalayan foothills of West Bengal, Darjeeling is renowned for its tea gardens and the iconic toy train. The monsoons add a touch of mystique to this hill station, enveloping it in a veil of clouds and mist. Wake up early to witness the mesmerizing sunrise at Tiger Hill, visit the famous tea estates, and take a ride on the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The lush greenery and the cool monsoon climate make Darjeeling a must-visit destination during this season.
6. Mahabaleshwar, Maharashtra:
Located in the Sahyadri Range of Maharashtra, Mahabaleshwar is a charming hill station known for its captivating landscapes and pleasant climate. The monsoons transform this place into a paradise with lush greenery, foggy hills, and cascading waterfalls. Explore stunning viewpoints like Arthur's Seat and Wilson Point, which offer panoramic vistas of the valleys below. Indulge in the famous strawberries and enjoy a boat ride on the serene Venna Lake. The misty atmosphere and the romantic ambiance make Mahabaleshwar a perfect destination to experience the magic of monsoons.
7. Nainital, Uttarakhand:
Nestled amidst the Kumaon Hills in Uttarakhand, Nainital is a picturesque hill station known for its emerald-colored lake and lush surroundings. The monsoons bring a refreshing transformation to this enchanting town. The rain-washed forests, blooming rhododendrons, and misty mountains create a mystical atmosphere. Take a boat ride on the serene Naini Lake, explore Mall Road, and visit the beautiful Nainital Zoo. The tranquility and natural beauty of Nainital during the monsoons make it an ideal destination for a rejuvenating getaway.
Monsoon Activities and Experiences:
Apart from the breathtaking natural beauty, these best hill stations in India offer a plethora of activities and experiences during the monsoons. Here are some notable ones:
1. Trekking and Nature Walks: The monsoon season breathes new life into the forests and hills, making it an ideal time for trekking and nature walks. Explore the verdant trails of places like Munnar, Coorg, and Shimla, and immerse yourself in the lush surroundings. Spot exotic flora and fauna, listen to the melodious chirping of birds, and rejuvenate your soul amidst nature's wonders.
2. Waterfall Rappelling: The monsoons bring several gushing waterfalls to life, providing the perfect backdrop for adventure enthusiasts. Many hill stations, such as Lonavala-Khandala and Mahabaleshwar, offer exciting opportunities for waterfall rappelling. Strap on your harness, descend the cascading water, and feel the adrenaline rush as you conquer nature's forces.
3. Boating in Lakes: The monsoons add a certain charm to the lakes in hill stations. Take a leisurely boat ride in the serene lakes of Nainital, Udaipur, or Ooty, and witness the surrounding beauty come alive with the touch of rain. The misty atmosphere and the tranquil waters create a serene and romantic experience.
4. Tea Tasting and Plantation Visits: Hill stations like Munnar and Darjeeling are famous for their tea estates. Visit a tea plantation during the monsoons to witness the tea leaves glistening with raindrops. Engage in tea-tasting sessions to savor the flavors and aromas of freshly brewed teas. Learn about the tea-making process and gain insights into the rich history and culture associated with tea production.
5. Ayurvedic Spa and Wellness: India is renowned for its Ayurvedic practices that promote holistic well-being. Many hill stations offer Ayurvedic spas and wellness centers where you can rejuvenate your mind, body, and soul. Indulge in therapeutic massages, herbal treatments, and yoga sessions amidst the tranquil surroundings of the hills.
The Charm of Monsoon Cuisine:
Monsoons in India are not just about the captivating landscapes; they also bring a unique culinary experience. The hill stations during the monsoons offer a delectable array of local delicacies that are sure to tantalize your taste buds. From piping hot pakoras (fritters) and steaming cups of masala chai to piping hot momos and bhutta (roasted corn), the monsoon cuisine is a delight for food lovers.
In places like Mahabaleshwar, you can indulge in fresh strawberries, served with cream or in the form of jams, during the monsoons. Coorg offers a unique gastronomic experience with its traditional Kodava cuisine, where you can relish dishes like pandi curry (pork curry) and akki roti (rice bread).
The monsoons also bring out the flavors of piping hot soups and stews, such as thukpa in Darjeeling and hot and sour soup in Shimla. Additionally, don't miss the opportunity to savor local street food like vada pav in Lonavala-Khandala and momos in Darjeeling.
The combination of the monsoon ambiance and the tantalizing flavors of local cuisine create an unforgettable culinary experience during your visit to these hill stations.
Conclusion:
India's hill stations are truly magical during the monsoon season. From the misty tea gardens of Munnar to the foggy valleys of Nainital, each destination offers a unique experience that will leave you spellbound. The lush greenery, cascading waterfalls, and the refreshing aroma of wet earth create an ethereal ambiance that is hard to resist. Whether you seek tranquility, adventure, or simply a rendezvous with nature, and also the hill stations in Uttarakhand have it all.
As you embark on your journey to witness the magic of monsoons in best hill stations in India, be prepared for occasional showers and carry appropriate rain gear. The off-season crowds allow you to immerse yourself fully in the beauty of these destinations. Remember to respect the local culture and environment, and leave behind only footprints.
Experience the joy of sipping hot tea while gazing at mist-covered hills, taking leisurely walks amidst lush green landscapes, and witnessing the grandeur of waterfalls in full flow. Discover the enchantment of India's monsoon-drenched hill stations, and create memories that will last a lifetime.