From Ashes ✗ Stiles Stilinski - Chapter 54: Chapter 54
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August 14th, 1973 - The Outskirts of Athens, Georgia
Faded yellow light and walls the color of the pages in her favorite books, lantern light. Drawings everywhere; Alice sitting down for tea with Hatter, Hazel hopping along with El-ahrairah and away from the other bunnies, James laughing beside The Old Green Grasshopper. Stick figures that only a child could identify. The smell inside was a spicy musk with something sweet underneath, the smell of food always cooking.
A drafty room, but she had so many blankets. She was the only one who needed blankets, the only one who slept at night.
The flame in the lantern flickered and shadows moved across the drawings.
A big yawn from such a small girl, exaggerated.
"I'm not tired yet, Papa."
"Nonsense. You've been yawnin' for ages. Besides, you know when your bedtime is, don't you?"
"...Yes, sir."
"Now then, ready for your story?" He was always a storyteller.
"I dunno. What's the story called?" She was always a negotiator.
"The Crow Maid."
"Hm. What's it about?"
"Shush. You'll find out when I tell it."
"But-"
"Once upon a time..."
"But Papa!"
"Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rowan and she was the most virtuous girl in all the land. She was beloved by her family and, despite a humble upbringing, was told constantly she would do great things.
Everyday, she woke up, set out a dish full of special seeds for the crows outside her window, made breakfast with her mother and brother, and helped her father with the farm work. She did it all with a smile and still made time to make sure every villager was happy and healthy.
Despite all of this, Rowan was terrified and exhausted everyday. What the village didn't know was that Death came to her in the night and whispered all the horrors he would commit the next day. She asked why he chose to visit her and tell her all of these horrible things.
"Soon, my dear. When you understand."
Every day, Rowan would wake up and set out to undo the horrible things Death had in store. The first day, she saved a child from a fire but, when she got home, discovered her family's barn reduced to char and ash. She saved an old man sinking in a lake and later found the birds outside her window floating amongst the spilled birdseed in a trough of overflowed rain water.
Every time she rescued a plethora of strangers, the hideous deed she averted would follow her home.
Finally, Rowan and her family had nothing more to lose. Their farm closed as their crops died and their cattle gave in to disease. It was all superfluous; all she needed was her family and the knowledge she did the right thing.
That night, Death came to her again with a bargain. He would leave their town and kill no more as long as Rowan took up his place for one person. It could be anyone as long as they were healthy and she was the one to do it. This would restore her family's farm and keep both the villagers and her family safe until they were ready to meet him.
He gave her a single vial of poison, enough stop the heart of the mightiest warrior.
"And if I refuse?"
Death smiled and left.
The next day, a great plague spread through every corner of the village. It started slow, with boils and swelling. By the third day, the stench of vomit and spoiled meat was so great, she choked on it. There was blood on her mother's lips and her brother's joints swelled up so much he couldn't move from bed. Larvae crawled from open wounds and filled the cracks in bloody cobblestones.
Rowan was unharmed. She worked tirelessly for a cure, ignoring the vial under her bed. Death didn't return even as she begged him every night to take it back.
Of the other few unaffected by the sickness, a peasant girl, a knight, and a doctor. Her efforts to find a cure failed over and over, one after another. Killing wasn't the answer. Being a killer solved nothing. She refused the vial again.
The next morning, she went to wake up her brother. His eyes were open and his skin yellowed. A boy of ten, kind and pure, could no longer draw in a breath. She listened helplessly to his heart stop.
She couldn't do anything but cry through the whole of the day, clutching the vial. From her window, she listened to similar wails of mothers holding their babies and children begging their fathers to wake up. What was the point of all of her good deeds if those she helped met the same fate? She didn't know anymore if she saved them as a kindness or to prove she was kind. Why be kind if it meant nothing at all?
She went to the healthy knight, broken and thinking to kill him, only to find him in a shelter and using a long handled spoon to feed sick children who could no longer feed themselves. She asked him why he did this even if they die. He paused and a shadow fell over his face. "Because it's kind."
She left to find the healthy doctor, handing out a cure he worked tirelessly on. She asked if he knew it would work and he did not. She asked why he would try to cure them with medicine that probably wouldn't work only to watch them die right before his eyes. "Because it's kind."
She left and considered the healthy child as she wandered the streets still strewn with sick and rot. A darkness hung over the village she once loved, a shadow that could never lift away. With the last of her will, she found the healthy child cowering alone. The peasant girl cried all alone in an alley. "You save so many, but why not my family?"
It was a selfish question but an honest one. The child had no concept outside their own life and spoke in a voice unburdened by appearances.
Rowan considered the girl and imagined the horrors she would see one day, if she survived. Perhaps she would save others, or perhaps she would succumb to her fears. There was no telling if the world would be better or worse without her. Death would no doubt return one day, if not for her then her family. It would make her cold. It would allow her to create her own horrors. Wouldn't ending it be a mercy?
A crow flew down and the peasant girl happened to notice it first. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a handful of crumbs, barely enough to scrape off a plate of rations. Rowan never once dared to feed the birds outside her window from her hand, out of fear of what they might do. Crows didn't have reputations for being kind, after all. The bird ate right out of her hand and Rowan noticed the cuts its beak left on her skin.
Rowan glanced at her healthy, unscathed hands. She knelt down and asked for a crumb to feed the crow, which the peasant girl obliged, placing one in Rowan's palm. Rowan held her hand out to the crow and it shook. The bird cawed at her but didn't move. The peasant girl huffed, a thin layer of annoyance under her soft and frail voice. "He won't come to you if you're not ready. He knows you're afraid of him."
"I'm not afraid of him," she said. "I'm afraid of the pain he might cause."
"I was afraid at first, too."
This managed to ease Rowan's fear enough to still her hand. The bird hopped over to her and swiped the crumb from her hand with his beak. There was a pinch and a spot of red left behind. Rowan turned to the peasant girl. "What changed?"
"Nothing. Sometimes, I'm still afraid." The girl dug in her pocket again and held out her hand to the crow. "But there's so little food and he's my friend. I like him more than I'm afraid. I don't want my friend to die."
She didn't bother to tell her that he would, someday, as all things do. She would find out on her own with the passing of time.The poison vial jostled in her pocket as she stood again and thanked the girl before leaving.
Hours later, Rowan walked through the streets just as the sun began to rise and shouted for Death to meet her. She was afraid but knew she was ready to use the poison.
When Death appeared he asked who her one kill would be. She answered with a question. "How do I know you'll help my village once I do as you ask?"
"The plague will lift as natural order deems, but each of them will be eventually claimed by my hand-"
"-when they understand," Rowan finished with a breath out. She uncorked the vial and drank the contents as they burned down her throat. "Why did you wait so long to take me? Why all of this?"
"I did not send the plague here. I wanted to see if the gods control you as much as I." A grim smile spread across Death's stark white mouth. "I told you what I would do as a game. You are not the first but you achieved more than any other. Most end here out of the guilt of inaction. Tell me - how did you end here?"
"Kindness."
Death held out his pale, bony hand to gesture to the horror around them. "But it all still ends the same."
"None of them are the same," Rowan said, thinking of the peasant girl and her scarred hand. "You don't know what meaning their lives hold and you can't know what meaning their deaths carry. Or what mine means to me."
She took Death's hand and, as the sun rose, faded with the darkness. There was no telling if anything would change in that little village but the chance to change was enough. A chance for the right medicine. A chance to reach for a helping hand. A chance to ease their own suffering in honor of those who could not. A chance for another day was worth more than anything she could think of.
"What did your death it mean to you?" Death asked.
As her village drifted away, she was grateful for the sadness that came with it. It hurt both because it was right and because it was unjust, as all endings were. There was no proclamation or goodbye. People would survive this and never know why. People would grieve for her like anyone else. She was not their monument or savior. She was their friend and would be remembered as nothing else, never overshadowing the kindness of a doctor or a knight or even a little girl willing to give up the last of her food.
Rowan let the world go and followed Death beyond it. "It means I loved more than I was ever afraid.""
"What happened next?"
"Nothin'. That's the end of the story."
"That's a stupid ending."
"Is it, now?"
"Nothing got fixed. She didn't even know if she helped anyone. What's the point?"
"Sometimes doing the right thing means doing it for nothing at all, acting blindly, and hoping for a happy ending. Nothing is guaranteed, young one."
"Is that really what Death's like?"
A pause, cicadas crying in the grass beyond the only window.
"No. And yes. Death is different for everybody. And you have many years left before you know."
"But you'll be here? You'll be with me when it happens?"
"Of course. When you're ready, I'll be right here to guide you. Ready for sleep?"
"I guess. Will you and Momma be around when I wake up?"
"As sure as the moon rises and the stars shine."
"Papa?"
"Hm?"
"It was a good story, but...wouldn't it be so cool if she tricks Death? She wouldn't hafta tell anyone but she'd give Death the poison instead and..."
"Shh. We'll work on a better story when you wake up. Goodnight, Lilith."
"Night, Papa."
Faded yellow light and walls the color of the pages in her favorite books, lantern light. Drawings everywhere; Alice sitting down for tea with Hatter, Hazel hopping along with El-ahrairah and away from the other bunnies, James laughing beside The Old Green Grasshopper. Stick figures that only a child could identify. The smell inside was a spicy musk with something sweet underneath, the smell of food always cooking.
A drafty room, but she had so many blankets. She was the only one who needed blankets, the only one who slept at night.
The flame in the lantern flickered and shadows moved across the drawings.
A big yawn from such a small girl, exaggerated.
"I'm not tired yet, Papa."
"Nonsense. You've been yawnin' for ages. Besides, you know when your bedtime is, don't you?"
"...Yes, sir."
"Now then, ready for your story?" He was always a storyteller.
"I dunno. What's the story called?" She was always a negotiator.
"The Crow Maid."
"Hm. What's it about?"
"Shush. You'll find out when I tell it."
"But-"
"Once upon a time..."
"But Papa!"
"Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rowan and she was the most virtuous girl in all the land. She was beloved by her family and, despite a humble upbringing, was told constantly she would do great things.
Everyday, she woke up, set out a dish full of special seeds for the crows outside her window, made breakfast with her mother and brother, and helped her father with the farm work. She did it all with a smile and still made time to make sure every villager was happy and healthy.
Despite all of this, Rowan was terrified and exhausted everyday. What the village didn't know was that Death came to her in the night and whispered all the horrors he would commit the next day. She asked why he chose to visit her and tell her all of these horrible things.
"Soon, my dear. When you understand."
Every day, Rowan would wake up and set out to undo the horrible things Death had in store. The first day, she saved a child from a fire but, when she got home, discovered her family's barn reduced to char and ash. She saved an old man sinking in a lake and later found the birds outside her window floating amongst the spilled birdseed in a trough of overflowed rain water.
Every time she rescued a plethora of strangers, the hideous deed she averted would follow her home.
Finally, Rowan and her family had nothing more to lose. Their farm closed as their crops died and their cattle gave in to disease. It was all superfluous; all she needed was her family and the knowledge she did the right thing.
That night, Death came to her again with a bargain. He would leave their town and kill no more as long as Rowan took up his place for one person. It could be anyone as long as they were healthy and she was the one to do it. This would restore her family's farm and keep both the villagers and her family safe until they were ready to meet him.
He gave her a single vial of poison, enough stop the heart of the mightiest warrior.
"And if I refuse?"
Death smiled and left.
The next day, a great plague spread through every corner of the village. It started slow, with boils and swelling. By the third day, the stench of vomit and spoiled meat was so great, she choked on it. There was blood on her mother's lips and her brother's joints swelled up so much he couldn't move from bed. Larvae crawled from open wounds and filled the cracks in bloody cobblestones.
Rowan was unharmed. She worked tirelessly for a cure, ignoring the vial under her bed. Death didn't return even as she begged him every night to take it back.
Of the other few unaffected by the sickness, a peasant girl, a knight, and a doctor. Her efforts to find a cure failed over and over, one after another. Killing wasn't the answer. Being a killer solved nothing. She refused the vial again.
The next morning, she went to wake up her brother. His eyes were open and his skin yellowed. A boy of ten, kind and pure, could no longer draw in a breath. She listened helplessly to his heart stop.
She couldn't do anything but cry through the whole of the day, clutching the vial. From her window, she listened to similar wails of mothers holding their babies and children begging their fathers to wake up. What was the point of all of her good deeds if those she helped met the same fate? She didn't know anymore if she saved them as a kindness or to prove she was kind. Why be kind if it meant nothing at all?
She went to the healthy knight, broken and thinking to kill him, only to find him in a shelter and using a long handled spoon to feed sick children who could no longer feed themselves. She asked him why he did this even if they die. He paused and a shadow fell over his face. "Because it's kind."
She left to find the healthy doctor, handing out a cure he worked tirelessly on. She asked if he knew it would work and he did not. She asked why he would try to cure them with medicine that probably wouldn't work only to watch them die right before his eyes. "Because it's kind."
She left and considered the healthy child as she wandered the streets still strewn with sick and rot. A darkness hung over the village she once loved, a shadow that could never lift away. With the last of her will, she found the healthy child cowering alone. The peasant girl cried all alone in an alley. "You save so many, but why not my family?"
It was a selfish question but an honest one. The child had no concept outside their own life and spoke in a voice unburdened by appearances.
Rowan considered the girl and imagined the horrors she would see one day, if she survived. Perhaps she would save others, or perhaps she would succumb to her fears. There was no telling if the world would be better or worse without her. Death would no doubt return one day, if not for her then her family. It would make her cold. It would allow her to create her own horrors. Wouldn't ending it be a mercy?
A crow flew down and the peasant girl happened to notice it first. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a handful of crumbs, barely enough to scrape off a plate of rations. Rowan never once dared to feed the birds outside her window from her hand, out of fear of what they might do. Crows didn't have reputations for being kind, after all. The bird ate right out of her hand and Rowan noticed the cuts its beak left on her skin.
Rowan glanced at her healthy, unscathed hands. She knelt down and asked for a crumb to feed the crow, which the peasant girl obliged, placing one in Rowan's palm. Rowan held her hand out to the crow and it shook. The bird cawed at her but didn't move. The peasant girl huffed, a thin layer of annoyance under her soft and frail voice. "He won't come to you if you're not ready. He knows you're afraid of him."
"I'm not afraid of him," she said. "I'm afraid of the pain he might cause."
"I was afraid at first, too."
This managed to ease Rowan's fear enough to still her hand. The bird hopped over to her and swiped the crumb from her hand with his beak. There was a pinch and a spot of red left behind. Rowan turned to the peasant girl. "What changed?"
"Nothing. Sometimes, I'm still afraid." The girl dug in her pocket again and held out her hand to the crow. "But there's so little food and he's my friend. I like him more than I'm afraid. I don't want my friend to die."
She didn't bother to tell her that he would, someday, as all things do. She would find out on her own with the passing of time.The poison vial jostled in her pocket as she stood again and thanked the girl before leaving.
Hours later, Rowan walked through the streets just as the sun began to rise and shouted for Death to meet her. She was afraid but knew she was ready to use the poison.
When Death appeared he asked who her one kill would be. She answered with a question. "How do I know you'll help my village once I do as you ask?"
"The plague will lift as natural order deems, but each of them will be eventually claimed by my hand-"
"-when they understand," Rowan finished with a breath out. She uncorked the vial and drank the contents as they burned down her throat. "Why did you wait so long to take me? Why all of this?"
"I did not send the plague here. I wanted to see if the gods control you as much as I." A grim smile spread across Death's stark white mouth. "I told you what I would do as a game. You are not the first but you achieved more than any other. Most end here out of the guilt of inaction. Tell me - how did you end here?"
"Kindness."
Death held out his pale, bony hand to gesture to the horror around them. "But it all still ends the same."
"None of them are the same," Rowan said, thinking of the peasant girl and her scarred hand. "You don't know what meaning their lives hold and you can't know what meaning their deaths carry. Or what mine means to me."
She took Death's hand and, as the sun rose, faded with the darkness. There was no telling if anything would change in that little village but the chance to change was enough. A chance for the right medicine. A chance to reach for a helping hand. A chance to ease their own suffering in honor of those who could not. A chance for another day was worth more than anything she could think of.
"What did your death it mean to you?" Death asked.
As her village drifted away, she was grateful for the sadness that came with it. It hurt both because it was right and because it was unjust, as all endings were. There was no proclamation or goodbye. People would survive this and never know why. People would grieve for her like anyone else. She was not their monument or savior. She was their friend and would be remembered as nothing else, never overshadowing the kindness of a doctor or a knight or even a little girl willing to give up the last of her food.
Rowan let the world go and followed Death beyond it. "It means I loved more than I was ever afraid.""
"What happened next?"
"Nothin'. That's the end of the story."
"That's a stupid ending."
"Is it, now?"
"Nothing got fixed. She didn't even know if she helped anyone. What's the point?"
"Sometimes doing the right thing means doing it for nothing at all, acting blindly, and hoping for a happy ending. Nothing is guaranteed, young one."
"Is that really what Death's like?"
A pause, cicadas crying in the grass beyond the only window.
"No. And yes. Death is different for everybody. And you have many years left before you know."
"But you'll be here? You'll be with me when it happens?"
"Of course. When you're ready, I'll be right here to guide you. Ready for sleep?"
"I guess. Will you and Momma be around when I wake up?"
"As sure as the moon rises and the stars shine."
"Papa?"
"Hm?"
"It was a good story, but...wouldn't it be so cool if she tricks Death? She wouldn't hafta tell anyone but she'd give Death the poison instead and..."
"Shh. We'll work on a better story when you wake up. Goodnight, Lilith."
"Night, Papa."
End of From Ashes ✗ Stiles Stilinski Chapter 54. Continue reading Chapter 55 or return to From Ashes ✗ Stiles Stilinski book page.