Portents of Fear is a horror fiction podcast which is intended for mature audiences. Discretion is advised.
Welcome, Fearlings, to another weird and horrifying tale made just for you. I am your host,
Michulhu, and I'll be your guide into the macabre and mysterious. Tonight's story takes us to
another world. Or is it our own, just in a different time? You be the judge as I tell you about
the village of Rin. Before we get started, take a moment to like, subscribe, and ring that
notification bell so you don't miss a single terrifying story. The sapphire blue sky held the
lemon sun in place over the coastal village of Rin. The water was a multitude of shifting greens
and white sea foam crashing against the black sands of the beach. The air always smelled of
salt, and the gulls sang each morning as they plucked their food from the water and flew high
above the crimson north cliff. Atop this cliff was Father Pine, a massive redwood so tall that it
touched the outer edge of the atmosphere. The people of Rin were five to six feet tall and had
pale blue skin. Their fine features and angelic looks would someday be remembered by humans from
other lands as elven. They could suffer from all the things any other human could. Illnesses were
common. Their magic could heal some of these, but they were mortal in all other ways. They lived
their lives with love and fear. They did not live extended lives, so they drank deeply of what they
had. When a child of Rin reached 16, they became an adult by climbing the Father Pine to the marked
height of a mile and diving into the ocean. Those who survived became adults. Those who did not
became waves of the sea, desperately trying to come onto land to reunite with their families,
but only getting as far as high tide. Some of the parents of those who failed often joined their
children, walking out and drowning, their grief being too much to bear. The land that Rin was
built on had no seasons. The weather was pleasant. Even the rain was refreshing and light. A morning
fog would roll into the village and those who breathed in deeply would feel their lungs open
to the world. The first day of the week was Moor's Day, when the women of the village would go to the
Moors at the edge of the world to the east and have their gathering. They never spoke of what
was said or done, and the men knew not to ask. Spells were cast and wine was drunk until the sun
transformed into the moon, and the night sky revealed the stars of the old ones. The stars
always moved on Moor's Day, dancing to the drum of the eternal cosmos. Each week, this Bacchanylia
of sorcery was kept honoring those lost to the gods or to their own mortal deeds. Between the
Moors and the village were rolling hills where cattle and sheep grazed. The lights of the magic
cast on these days could be seen all the way back in town. While the women were in the Moors, the men
and children would don armor and go to the southern forest to hunt the Williper. Its shape was like an
elk, but with a slightly longer neck and a mass of black tentacles ringed around a maw of yellow
fangs as its head. The scream it produced could cause a person to fall into a deep sleep, allowing
the Williper to consume them. Catching one showed you were one of the best hunters. It could feed
the village for a week. Harris Day, Teeth Day, and Psalms Day were all days of labor. The fishing,
farming, and gathering, building, and crafting were done on these days. The children would work as
well to learn what they excelled at. The job one had was their place in the community. There were
no jobs that were considered unimportant. There were those who became priests working at the temple.
The temple was not built by human hands. Instead, it was created from nothing at the same time the
world was created from nothing. Wrynn was built up around the temple over thousands of years.
Omtere, Lord of the Emerald Sky, left the void to create all that was or will be. The priests
study scrolls of thick yellowed paper that were found at the base of Father Pine before the village
stood. They walk the streets on Hollis Day and tell the people of the gods and their place in
the cosmos, shedding blood onto the streets by flogging themselves repeatedly to show their
devotion. During the nights, the priests would bathe in a hot spring of salt water. Their wounds
would radiate more pain, stung by the salt, reminding them that they are nothing to the gods,
just playthings. And their devotion is the only thing keeping the village alive. It is a secret
only the priests know. The next day of the week is called Basalem, the Day of Union. The children
are taken to the beach by the priests to spend the day playing in the waves of the departed ones who
did not make it into adulthood. While the rest of the adults proclaimed their love for one another,
there were no social mores on who one could love or how many. It was not uncommon for a woman to
not know who the father of her child was. The village worked together to raise the children.
Mother and child lived together but seldom with a man. The final day of the week is Unos, the day
of rest. To sleep and sing and play music on the highest hill in the east was to have a perfect
Unos day. The village would fall silent as the moon turned the sky tonight. Sleeping to be ready
for Moor's Day was important. Wrynn was governed by three people picked by the head priest, but were
not themselves priests. No one knew who the three were and they served till death. If the priest had
felt they were not doing their jobs, their death would come sooner than nature intended. If a decree
for a new law was needed, the ruby bell at the edge of the Moors would be rung three times.
All the citizens would go to this place and hear the decree read by the high priest. As far as any
of them knew, the high priest ran the village. There was little crime in Wrynn, but things did
get stolen from time to time. Sometimes passion would lead to fury and someone would be murdered.
Stealing something meant being lashed and left in the sun for three days. Killing someone meant
banishment. Being banished was a death sentence because anywhere one went they were alone and
helpless against the horrifying creatures that lived beyond the bounds of the village. Not much
was known about the lands outside of Wrynn. What laid beyond the forest, the Moors, the sea, or the
huge cliffside Father Pine grew on, no one could say. Even when the children went a mile up Father
Pine for their jump into adulthood, they would say that all they could make out was a huge volcano
to the south while the rest of the lands were covered in clouds. There were many rituals that
had to be followed to keep the gods happy and Wrynn from peril. The village was peaceful for
centuries because of the adherence to ritual. No famine or war had fallen upon them. There were no
cold winters or drought-inducing summers. The village was in harmony with the landscape around
it. The magic that kept them safe was that of the gods and could be taken away at any point.
There was one event that everyone dreaded. It happened every month when radiant green rain fell.
It meant that the dark god Shuloth demanded a sacrifice. It must be a young person, a newly
recognized adult. The scrolls were clear on this. When the rain fell, it turned everything green,
save for the path the sacrifice had to walk. It led to the south through the forest. Many wondered
if Shuloth lived in the volcano they observed when jumping from Father Pine into adulthood.
The people of the village gathered outside the temple. It was expected that the adult last
to climb Father Pine would be the one to offer themselves to Shuloth. But sometimes another would
step forward to take their place. Offering oneself to the dark god was seen as a great honor.
The scrolls said that the sacrifice would be devoured but then would join Shuloth in her realm
to serve. Why any of this must be done was a mystery. Sometimes mortals do not get to know why
the world is as it is. On one such night, it was Kes who stepped forward so that her love Patren
could be spared. The entire village of 200 crowded the steps of the temple. Patren only jumped from
Father Pine three days before. Kes had grown up with her and could not let Patren give herself over.
Kes hugged Patren one last time before turning to the path that would lead to Shuloth's realm.
Her heart was heavy but it was the right thing to do for her love. As Kes walked away, the other
villagers turned their backs on her and sang the song of Kolef to honor her sacrifice. The
wails of Patren and Kes's families could be heard above the pounding glowing eldritch rain. Kes dared
not look back. She knew that it would only tear at her heart to see her home disappear for the last
time. Instead, she followed the dark path into the woods and away from them all. The trees were covered
in glowing green water. It illuminated the forest floor revealing small sprites working and playing
at the base of the trees. It was like seeing a much smaller version of her own home. Kes wondered if
Shuloth was keeping the willip or at bay or did they sleep at night? She had heard stories that
being killed by Shuloth meant she would be trapped in the god's realm and serve the old one for all
time. She took a deep breath and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She would do
anything to protect her love. Kes could feel the ghosts of the forest walk with her. Shades of
people long passed. They whispered to her so low she could not make out what they said. They were
saying how to avoid her fate but they had been cursed to never be understood. The forest gave
way to hills of stained glass. The rain had stopped but the path was clear. No one in the village ever
talked of this place. No one had ever gone so far through the forest. The shades left her still
whispering. There were no clouds. How did we not see this place? She thought. The moon had given way
to the yellow sun and the sky was no longer veiled in clouds. The hills beamed with colored lights.
It would be beautiful if it wasn't so blinding. With the rain gone does it mean Shuloth had changed
her mind? She thought. She was tempted to turn back. Then she thought it was more likely a test.
One Kes could not afford to fail. No telling what Shuloth would do to the village if her sacrifice
did not show up. She continued forward. Days and nights passed with no rest or drink. Kes's feet
bled and her light blue skin had turned deep red. She had passed through so many incredible lands.
There was the one with dragons in the sky made of crystal and steel. They swooped down and grabbed
up these strange mounds of quivering flesh that seemed to slowly slide across the ground. The
dragons would eat them while still flying. There was a land of witches and crags where rocks jetted
up in the sky. She could hear magic being cast on the rocks above. One of the witches tried to give
her food and water but Kes thought it was another test and said no. The witch shook her head and said
she would cry for her sacrifice that night and cast a spell to heal her feet for a time. Kes kept
walking all for her love of Petren. When Kes came to the end of the path it was at the base of a
giant volcano. Lava giants toiled on its surface harvesting the lava for their feasts. Kes began
to climb. The heat was unreal but her love was stronger so she pushed up to the crest of the
volcano. At the top she called out to Shuloth, I am Kes from the village of Rin. I came as tribute.
Do with me what you will. The volcano came alive with movement and from its molten core a black
pillar of flame shot up in the air. Kes felt fear for the first time looking into the ebony flames
of Shuloth. It changed into a multi-headed beast a hundred feet tall. The bodies of thousands of
sacrifice villagers were fused to its gray ashen snake-like body. They writhed and moaned like a
choir of despair. All the sacrifices that had ever been sent lived in the torso of this old one,
Shuloth. Kes lost her composure looking at what her fate truly would be and started to scream
uncontrollably. One of the many heads split off from the body and descended toward Kes. It was
round with scales all over and one giant mouth. No eyes or ears just scales and teeth. It flew
with no wings and grabbed Kes in its jaws returning to its next stuff at the top of the beast.
Kes looked to the north where Rin was and could see Father Pine. It was days away but so large
and tall that it was still visible. She whispered, I love you, Petra. Right as the jaws of the old
one bit down tearing her body apart. The head chewed Kes's body slowly before swallowing her.
Kes could feel herself slide down Shuloth's throat. The pain was unrelenting. She kept hoping for
blackness to never feel again. Her crushed, decapitated head screamed with guttural horror.
Suddenly she was dropped into a large cave-like stomach. Several small demons waded through the
bubbling acid towards Kes's body. They gathered her up and put her back together all the time
chanting in a tongue she did not understand. Finally they cast their spell over her broken body.
Kes found herself fused to the outside of Shuloth's ever-burning torso like the others.
Covered in ash, writhing and screaming. She could still see her home and with tears streaming from
her eyes she cursed them all. Kes was told she would be a servant but instead she became another
portion of a dark god only able to scream and cry in agony until the end of time. She thought of
Petren and her love that caused her to take Petren's place. Would she still have stepped forward if she
had known what was to come? No. Back in the village of Rin the next day Petren wept but by the end of
the month she had already started to let go of her grief for Kes. Life in the village went on and
things were good for the most part. There were new loves and adventures for her. One day a year or two
after Kes left Petren forgot her former lover's name. She became that girl I kissed under Father
Pine who took my place to die. Oh teenage love so fleeting. Did Kes do the right thing? Be sure to
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your screen now. Good night fearlings. Sleep well if you can.