The Wailing Woods

### Folklore

In days of olde, when the world was younger, monsters walked freely under the sun. And in one small corner of the world, there was a small village on the edge of an old forest. The inhabitants of the village enjoyed their quiet existence at the edge of the civilized world. They wished harm on none, and none wished harm upon them. However, all good things eventually come to an end and a creeping darkness was closing in on that sleepy village. The monster came with the morning sun, just as the sun began to rise, and snatched up two children who had just emerged to begin their morning chores.

With a snarl and a growl, the monster leaped away, the screaming children clutched tightly in its great hands. The screams roused the sleepy villagers and they rushed out only to catch the fleeting glimpse of the monster disappearing into the woods with their children. The villagers had no experience with monsters, but they knew that they had to get their children back. And so they picked up their pitchforks and torches, one and all, and marched into the old forest. The tracks and screams lead their way, deep deep into the forest. The trees grew taller here, no sunlight could reach the ground. Yet still they marched on, no way to know what fate awaited them in the heart of that old forest.

Late into the night they chased the monster, until at last they caught up to the monster, in the old heart of the forest. But there was something else that waited in that place. Something older and far more dangerous had taken up residence. The monster’s master, for whom it had taken the children. The villagers crested the hill and beheld a sight. The children lay at the feet of a woman. Her hair was black as the deepest shadows and blood red lips curled into a vicious smile. But her eyes, her eyes spoke of unimaginable cruelty. However, it was what she held in each hand that captured the villagers’ attention. For in each hand she held a heart, a child’s heart. And the villagers stood transfixed, the women raised one of the hearts to her cruel lips and bit down. As the blood ran down her chin, she bared her teeth in a terrifying parody of a grin as she reveled in the pain and torment the villagers were in.

The villagers stood transfixed at the sight of their children, their lifeless eyes seeing nothing more. Their rage came to the forefront of their minds and with a cry that spoke volumes of their pain, they attacked the woman. But they knew not who or what she for. For she was the goddess Suldra, and they stood no chance against her. They sealed their fate when they tried to attack the goddess and her pet. She bit again into the heart, as the villagers rushed at her only to freeze in place. They stood frozen in the center of the old woods, unable to blink or look away from the terrible scene in front of them. Suldra finished the heart in her hand, and then the other, a river of blood running down her chin.

Suldra spoke then, her words are lost to ages past and not meant for mortal ears. But the effects of her words are felt even today. She cursed those villagers, who dared to raise a hand against her. The bodies of the villagers began to twist and change, their mouths agape in agony as their forms were corrupted and tainted. They warped and distorted until instead of mortal beings, malformed and terrible trees stood in their place. These gnarled trees were unnatural in their torment and high upon their trunks sat the face of the villager. Barely recognizable as anything resembling a face, except for a wide distorted mouth from which came a horrible wail. Through these mouths the villages wailed and screamed, the only expression of their torture they were allowed.

The goddess Suldra wasn’t done yet, for next she turned to the bodies of the children and they too began to change. Two white harts they changed into, but with Suldra’s tainted touch. A gaping hole lay in the center of their chests, no heart within these creatures. And in their mouth were not the teeth of deer, but instead filled with sharp fangs dripping with blood. The Haunted Harts were the guardians of the Wailing Woods, attacking all those who enter. For it was the goddess’s wish that these souls suffer eternally. And it is said that if you wander too close to the center of that old forest, you can still hear the wails and moans of the cursed villagers.