Baykush

You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” Ostromir nods cautiously while he sits on the soft cushion. Looks around a little bit, amazed by all the candles and figures that is scattered all around the tent. Turns his eyes back onto old hag, "I-I... am Ostromir." gulps a little with a tension but continues more fluently afterwards, "6 years old and I am son of Dame Viktoriya..." his 6 year old little lungs couldn't take more air, so he inhales slowly and continues with a growing disinterest, "we are living in Lurin as a family even though we are humans..." turns his head to side and scratches softly. "Isn't that weird to you too?" After a brief pause, he continues with his eyes locked on one of the candles' fire, "The joy, the happiness, how someone can be so interested in those fake emotions when you can have the true power... over everything. They think they have the control, the power. Iblees control them all..." Candles' fires' flickers can be seen inside Ostromir's little eyes' little black dot... "Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until… Ostromir's mother Vik, walks by and calls out his name. Ostromir finally blinks his eyes and realizes he was just sitting in dirt, looking to one of the street lamps fire. Tent and the old hag was gone. Vik continues with pantings "Come here my boy, it's time to go home..."