The shaman, Orkek, walked up the hill's graveled path. 

Her sturdy staff shook as her spotted, wrinkled hands gripped it, helping her fragile body balance. A young apprentice, Atok, trailed behind her. On one hand Atok held a fur bag filled with Orkek's trinkets and ingredients while his other hand hovered behind her back, in fear that his master might miss a step or lose strength in her legs.

A brisk wind came and Orkek stopped, the bundled seashells hung around her neck rattling. Atok leaned forward, hand closer to her back just in case. The shaman grabbed the shells and looked up ahead at her hut, standing atop the hill they walked, gazing at the setting sun that sank behind it. She then looked behind her at the village she has sworn to protect, much like her master had, and the one before. She looked at the people that stared back at her, all wondering what the crazy old woman was doing now.

A group of children ran by, stopped, pointed at her, and playfully chanted, "Crazy lady, crazy lady, now we run away!" before running into the village to play.

Atok glared at their backs with furrowed brows, then at the other villagers laughing, his hand squeezing the fur bag tighter. "You're all ungrateful," he whispered; he hated them.

"It's fine, Atok," Orkek said, startling the child. Her body may have been weak, but her senses were sharper than any blade. "They know not what I see, don't blame them."

Atok brought his head down. "Yes, Master," he replied, but his feelings didn't change.

Even if the villagers didn't see what Orkek did or what Atok was only getting a grasp of, they all knew that she was a shaman that has protected them for years. Have they not seen how their shaman has aged, how weak she's gotten by doing so? Yet, all he heard them talk of was her eccentricity, never a word of gratitude. It was as if they expected to be protected.

Atok hated them for that, even more so since Orkek took him in after his parents were killed hunting. She was practically his mother now, and he himself has seen firsthand how much being a shaman affected Orkek. No child wanted to watch their mother grow weak and be ridiculed.

Orkek removed her hand from the shells and kept still for a moment, waiting. Was that wind nothing more than a pleasantry in this warm day, she wondered, then, nature responded.

The world exhaled at her a stronger wind; it was a warning from Ivaven - their world was calling out to Orkek. The shaman nodded to accept it and opened her mouth, feeling the air travel down her throat and spread throughout her body, her black feather earrings flapping wildly with it. She slowly looked up into the sky, her dark hazel eyes beginning to glow white, and then held her breath.

Her eyes strained as the sky twisted into a spiral like a hurricane, mixing the world into a swirl of blue and white, into grey and black, and then rewinded, sending Orkek's mind to a different place.

When she looked back down, Orkek saw her body across from her as if frozen in time in Ivaven, staring at the sky. She peaked over at Atok and smiled at the sight of his hand hovering her.

Sweet boy, she thought shaking her head, her soft voice echoing faintly inside it. I know how you feel about the villagers, but please be patient with them.

Orkek cupped her hands near her stomach; she felt it like an itch, something evil was near, growing stronger. She chanted ancient words, harnessing the energy of the wind that flowed throughout her spiritual body until she turned blue and transparent, her appearance reverting back to when she first became a shaman. Her legs became strong, her back straightened, and the skin around her body tightened. Orkek released her hands with a sigh – how she missed these days, how she wished that it wasn't she who was chosen to carry the shaman's curse. She couldn't believe that her body changed so much in only twelve years, but it wasn't time to be thinking such thoughts. She needed to focus.

She was in Limbo now, a plane in between planes where souls traverse to move on. Limbo had always been hazy and obscure when first entered, but can be lucid if one focuses and didn't stay too long. So when the shaman noted that the world was darker than it used to be, she thought it because her focus wavered.

Orkek inhaled, then let out a short, forceful breath, releasing some of the wind harnessed inside her. It blew out visibly in a cloud before taking form, creating ribbons of blue that swam down her body until the streams dissipated into nothingness. She squinted her eyes; to her surprise, the plane didn't look much clearer. Actually, it didn't look any different at all. Perhaps her 'old' age in Ivaven affected her more than she thought.

Orkek turned to the villagers, who've all gone already to mind their own businesses, their movements slow. Every hour spent in Limbo was a minute in Ivaven. Walking through them and stumbling by were misty, gray silhouetted figures with nothing but oversized mouths on their faces. These were the souls of the recently departed making their journey. The darker the figure, the more corrupt a soul was.

Orkek walked down the hill, examining the groaning souls. Why did Ivaven ask for her aid? What did the world sense here? She closely watched the souls mosey through her village, keeping her wits about her and ready for a confrontation until the figures marched into the horizon, no longer in sight. She walked around the village, just in case one was left behind, but found none, nor did she see any that were tainted completely black or white from those who passed.

It was rare for anyone's soul to be completely one color or the other, but Orkek has seen more black souls than white by troves, and usually it was them who refused to move on. Most black souls only lingered in Limbo, growing insane until they did nothing but wander for all eternity in pain, but there were those who learned how to return to the physical world by feeding on strong emotions emitted from those in Ivaven, feelings strong enough to break through the barrier.

Eventually, if the souls weren't stopped from feeding and become strong enough, they'd be able to reside in a body and remain inside without its host ever noticing, continuing to eat. Once the corrupted soul gathers enough strength, they use the body like a gateway to get back to Ivaven. The body gets completely possessed and the host's soul gets thrown out into Limbo and replaced by the corrupted one. The body changes its form, and essentially kills the host in a bloody fashion.

Ivaven, in all her appeal, was a great, mystical world filled with magic and creatures, but with it came the horrors and trauma of life that made no exceptions. The mixture of strong emotions and Ivaven's natural flowing magic made it possible for souls to come back. A fair number succeed in returning, and what form they took after possession depended on what emotions they consumed and where, giving birth to demonic creations. Once a soul is reborn as a demon in Ivaven, shamans became useless.

This threw off the world's balance and the need for shamans arose, for it was them who battled these souls that attempted to leave and did so by giving their life little by little to stop them.

Orkek, like shamans everywhere else, led this cursed life, and Atok will lead it after, and after him will be another. Ivaven needed shamans who could answer her critical calls, so when Orkek found nothing wrong in her part of Limbo she raised a brow in confusion. Ivaven's calls were never for nothing; there was something wrong, and though Orkek couldn't see it she could sense it in her body.

The wind inside her, Ivaven's message still rang – You must stop it.

I know, Ivaven, she thought back, but what is it? Where?

She looked around, then back at her body and Atok, who looked down at the village but remained by her side. She walked up the hill again, thinking that up from her hut she'd be able to get a better view. When she was close enough to Atok, she saw in his eyes the same anger that's been building for months ever since he realized how the villagers treated her.

She knelt in front of him. Atok, please, don't have such feelings, she thought, though she couldn't blame him. He only turned fourteen a month ago, and no matter how much he protested Atok was very much still a child trying to understand the world. She smiled and placed her hands on his cheek.

Suddenly, her arms tensed and she felt her entire body being pulled in by Atok. The energy she held inside was being absorbed by him, and more, causing her body to transform to its original state. She gritted her teeth, taking quick and heavy breaths while she held Atok's barely moving face. She couldn't believe it - Atok had been possessed.

Leave him! Orkek demanded, leave this boy alone!

Atok's eyes moved to look at her, and Orkek could hear a raspy breathing.

Never, a deep, menacing voice drawled. This boy has been providing a feast.

It was then that Orkek's focus was broken. She fell backwards into the gravel path, color returning to her vision, and Atok quickly turned around and extended a hand to her. "Master!" he said, "Are you okay? Your hair...What happened?"

Orkek looked up at him, her breath shaking. She looked at her locks that fell on her shoulders, and her hair went from gray to white. She was back in Ivaven, even weaker now. It took her a moment, but staring at her was Atok, where the demon that she was commanded to stop resided. She swallowed her spit and held back her tears – she had to control her feelings, it wasn't too late to save him, not yet. She could still exorcise the demon. Without a word, she took his hand and they continued to her hut.

They entered the humble home filled with different herbs and animal bones, and a simple fire place on one end of the room. Dream catchers of different sizes and colors hung all around the hut, and wooden bowls scattered around held a number of other ingredients.

"Put the bag down," Orkek said, pointing at a table in the corner, "then take a doe bone knife, and a dream catcher, and sit with me. We must talk."

Atok put the bag away and sat with Orkek in the middle of her hut. He raised an eyebrow, placing the items in front of her. "Master?"

Orkek crossed her legs and placed her arms on them. "Atok, what do you think of the villagers?"

He looked away for a moment out of embarrassment. "I thought you already knew."

"I do, Atok, but what I don't know is how strongly you feel."

There was a short pause before he spoke. "I hate them," he admitted, quietly, clenching his jaw a moment, unsure of whether he should continue. "I...I hate how they made fun of me. You know, they say that if we're killed by animals we'd be resurrected as that animal our next life. My parents were killed by boars, and the adults mocked them. 'Hunters killed by pigs? Serves them right to only return as pigs,' they always said, but they weren't there! No one knows how it really happened, and the kids here follow me around, calling me names, making fun of me for it. And I hate how they treat you. They...they act the same way towards you. How can they act so...malevolent and so privileged? They don't deserve to be saved, and if I'm to become a shaman I don't want to save them."

Orkek shook her head as sadness overcame her. "I've taught you we shouldn't harbor such negative emotions, Atok. We are shamans; we must see the world differently from others and control our feelings. Because of how attuned we are to Ivaven's magic, our emotions serve as stronger fuel for souls."

"Yes, Master, but you can't just ask me to control how I feel. How I act to how I feel is something I have control over, but not the other way around."

Orkek remembered the time she questioned her master about this as well, but she was raised since childhood for this role. She was well prepared, more composed unlike her apprentice.

"It's not an easy task, Atok, and how it's done needs to be deciphered by you. How I control my emotions may not work the same way for you. It's important that we control our emotions; the consequences are...deadly."

Atok opened his mouth to reply, but stopped and looked at the knife. "You've taught me before that doe bones are used to kill demons." His eyes widened. "Am...am I...?"

Orkek sigh. "Not yet, but there is another soul residing in your body, Atok," she explained. "You're the reason Ivaven called to me."

Atok blinked rapidly and he bit his lip. "So you'll kill me then? Along with the demon?" He stood up. "That's what the knife is for, right?!" he yelled.

"No, it's a last resort, Atok. Please, sit. I can still try an exorcism. It's what the dream catcher is for."

Atok profusely shook his head. "And you think that'll work? If those did, why are there still so many monsters out there? And now I'm going to turn into one of them?!" He paced back and forth, gripping his hair.

Orkek felt uneasy watching Atok. She stood up, her knees cracking. Atok immediately helped her. "We have to try, Atok! We still have time, but please try to control your emotions. The angrier you get-"

"I know! I know it's fuel! But knowing that doesn't help! Just..." Atok carefully sat back down with Orkek, then began sobbing. "Why me?"

Orkek couldn't' stop the pain in her heart as she began tearing up, and it was only now did she realize how careless she had been in raising him. The pain he felt when his parents died had never been addressed and that pain had transformed into great emotion. She thought all he needed was time to mature, but children needed more than that.

She pulled her apprentice close and embraced him. "I'm sorry; Atok, but I will fix this. Now please, calm yourself. We mustn't waste any more time."

Atok gathered himself, taking several breaths until his sobs became sniffles. "What do I have to do?" he asked.

"Remove your tunic and lay flat on your stomach," Orkek instructed. "Remain calm as best you can, and let me handle the rest."

He nodded and followed, feeling the cool pebbled ground against his stomach and chest. Orkek walked around the hut, taking different small bones and ingredients from the wooden bowls into her hand, and then knelt next to him. She placed the knife on her lap.

She cupped her hands above Atok's back, keeping the ingredients between them. "I will begin, Atok. You will feel something burn your back, a great fire, and how strongly you feel this pain determines the strength of the corrupted soul, but no matter what you must remain adamant and tolerate it, understood?"

"Wait, wait," Atok said, swallowing his spit. "What will happen if this fails? Can we...can we try again? Is that possible?" Atok looked at Orker, and she shook her head.

"No," she answered softly. "An exorcism forcibly opens a path to a corrupted soul for us to lead it elsewhere, hence the dream catcher. I'll be attempting to expulse the soul to it. But, by opening a path, it gives another way for the soul to escape and become a demon. If I fail...the soul will take over your body, and a demon will be born."

Atok's back heaved. "Will this work, Master? If it doesn't, and you're here for it..."

"Hush, child." Orkek moved closer to him. "Take three deep breaths, then I will begin."

"But-"

"Hush."

Atok reluctantly closed his eyes and breathed. It took more than three breaths for him stop shaking, but when he did Orkek crushed the ingredients in her palms together. The bones cut into her hands, mixing her blood into the concoction, and once there was a small pool of it she stopped and held it high as she could above Atok's back. She chanted the words her master taught her in Ivaven's oldest language, then released the black liquid.

Atok screamed and arched his back as the tar-like liquid seared his skin, causing him to bleed and feel as if he was being eaten away by fire. Though he knew it'd hurt, the pain was incredible, and it only got worse by the second; he didn't know if he could survive it.

"Be strong, Atok!" Orkek yelled. "Fight!"

Atok screamed louder as smoke rose at the edges of the liquid, then a strong torrent blew out from it, throwing the items in the hut into a whirlwind - the liquid had transformed into a portal. Orkek took hold of the dream catcher, and again chanted, practically yelling out the words. The item glowed yellow, and Orkek could feel her body become weaker as she poured her energy into it, inching closer to death, but this was worth it. She'd be trapping a corrupted soul and saving her apprentice. All she needed to do was add a bit more of her life, and she could do it.

Suddenly, there was a guttural growl and two monstrous hands bigger than Atok's body emerged from his back and swung wildly, hitting everything around them and sending Orkek across the hut, hitting a beam. She yelped in pain, then fell to the ground twisting her ankle.

"The boy is mine, shaman!" the demon said from the portal. "And thanks to you, my return has been expedited!"

"Mas-master!" Atok yelled, screaming through the pain. He watched as Orkek's hands trembled searching the ground around her for the dream catcher. "Leave her be, demon! Leave her!"

It laughed at him. "Nonsense, child." The demon's arms rose him, nearly hitting the ceiling, and walked him over to Orkek who scrambled back into the beam she collided with. The demon leaned Atok's face close hers. "Now, take a look at each other – this will be the last time."

Atok gritted his teeth, his anger rising seeing Orkek's mangled body. But then, under her tunic, his eyes caught an outline of the doe bone knife she held. A last resort, he remembered her say, and this was it. The dream catcher was likely with the other items caught in the wind, and there was no way they'd be able to get it in time. He looked at her eyes, squinted, then nodded – if he was to die, he'd rather be killed by his master.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking down to tears. "I'm so sorry."

That broke Atok even more. "No! N-none of this is your fault!"

The demon laughed again – it was growing stronger from him. "This is the end, boy. Any last words?"

Orkek remained silent, bringing a hand to his face, her other hand holding onto the weapon tightly. Her lips quivered as she tried to speak, but she couldn't find the right words. She shook her head as she pulled the weapon out and placed its tip against his chest, but her determination wavered.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. There had to be something else she could do. She loved her apprentice like a child, how could she just kill him?

Atok took notice. In between his agonized grunts, he said to her, "Shamans must control th-their feelings, Master. We must be d-different." Orkek looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes.

"Atok-"

"P-please," he coughed out. "It hurts."

Orkek frowned and closed her eyes. She couldn't let him suffer anymore. She let out a cry, then thrust the blade into Atok's heart with all her might, sucking in his last breath. 

"Thank you," he said, as the life in his eyes disappeared.

"Nooo!" the demon hissed. There was a high pitched scream and the demon's arms went wild in death throes, swinging Atok's lifeless body around in the air and convulsing around the hut, completely destroying it bit by bit until the arms melted down to a sticky, vile black liquid, Orkek keeping her head down the whole while. Atok dropped to the ground, the flesh on his back burned crisp.

Orkek gasped uncontrollably as she crawled to him, struggling to push and pull herself. She flipped him over to her lap and held his head against her chest, hugging him close, crying. She failed him, and now there was nothing else to do. Down at the village she saw the people watching her, yet didn't move.

How long had they been watching and listening? Did they think not to help when they heard the cries of a young boy, nor from the destruction of her hut? Where were the adults that made fun of hunters dying by boars or pigs, yet refused to move now when a real challenge appeared?

A great anger built inside Orkek's chest, and she felt it fill her like a jug. If they received aid, even from just one person, things might have been different. After all she's done for them, they couldn't help her this one time? Was her apprentice right about them?

She screamed as loud as she could at the village, over and over, startling the onlookers. Some realized what happened, they could tell by how Orkek's anguished wail. Many ended up looking away and even felt bad, but it didn't change the fact that nothing was done.

Orkek could say nothing, for nothing could explain the pain she felt at killing a child, her child, nor could she find the words to quell the rage that welled inside afterwards.

Atok was right – they didn't deserve to be saved.

She hated them. Greatly.