RUSELM'S BESTIARY
CHAPTER THREE ─ THE FAMILY TREE

WHEN HALLA MADE THE TREK BACK TO THE GREENHOUSE she was surprised to find that she felt a small measure of confidence fueling her steps, each carrying her closer to more answers. The midday sun gives the greenhouse a golden glow. Every plant and flower drinks this light greedily, nutrient and energy being used to give these flowers a perkier appearance. Leaves turn towards the sunlight, soft petals curl beautifully at Halla's approach, and the air smells more blissfully fragrant now. The awe of the greenhouse would never fade.

Past the rows of flowers she goes, kneeling once more at the familiar sight of the stone likeness of her goddess. The cushion is soft underknee. She bows her head, closes her eyes, and the dizziness comes as Chaos rushes through her veins.

And like always when Halla opens her eyes, she is in a warm and bright field. This time it is a wheatfield illuminated with golden sunlight and her eyes take a moment to adjust to this new brightness. When they do, standing before her as though appearing from nowhere is a wrinkled crone with white hair and eyes that have gone grey with the affliction of sightlessness.

This is another form of the goddess Melitele.

And she was just as ethereal as usual.

She might not have teeth at the moment but her smile still made the air lighter.

Melitele is sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle of the wheatfield, arthritic fingers clutching at a blanket she is embroidering with a needle and thread. The red string stands out amongst the green of the blanket and Halla can make out the likeness of a great oak tree on this blanket. Her goddess is embroidering names onto the tree.

"A family tree," Melitele says, her voice coming low and with some difficulty. "Your family tree, little one."

Halla hums pleasantly. "Your needlework is excellent, Goddess."

"Care to take a closer look?"

"Of course."

Halla steps closer to the goddess and leans over the blanket, first sighting her father's name among the leaves. Then her mother's. And underneath reads 'Halla' which is across from her husband 'Thaddäus'.

Melitele has just finished embroidering Ruselm's name below Halla's. She smacks her lips and admires the work so far, reaching for another spool of red thread amongst a wicker basket to her side. All of the spools are red. And there's a pair of ornate silver scissors on top of the bunch, glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Some of my best work," Melitele comments.

Somehow, Halla knows she is not talking about the embroidery in her lap.

"What have you come to ask, child?"

She swallows every ounce of fear and summons her words. Carefully.

"Goddess," Halla kneels at the crone's feet and looks up into her eyes. Even though she is blind, it is a simple respect. "Please guide me. Show me what is to become of me, of the child I carry now. That is all I ask, to know more."

Melitele does not speak as she threads her needle once more. It's a wonder she does not prick herself with how her hands tremble and shake with age. It's more a bewilderment how she does it so perfectly without being able to see.

She sets to work on a name across from Ruselm's.

"You want to see how you die."

"As you have shown me before, yes Goddess."

"Do you know why I showed you the danger before?" Melitele prompts. "When I showed you the fiend that was lurking around the edge of the Jurren estate?"

Halla shakes her head. "No."

Melitele's fingers work swiftly on the blanket. The needle glints every time it resurfaces from the other side. "The fiend was a danger that could be prevented," she says. "That was not your time of demise, you weren't meant to die then. That is why I showed you. You had yet more to impart before you leave."

She tries to wrap her mind around this, to accept what this implies. After the danger of the fiend, the only thing Halla had really done was spend more time with her son. She had been very grateful to the Witcher Valen for defeating the monster and was filled with a renewed sense of life. She'd taught Ruselm who he truly was, and other things a mother should teach her son like acceptance of everyone and everything as living beings or how to ride a horse or clean dishes.

Halla had relished this time with Ruselm. She always would. But could that be what Melitele was referring to? Teaching her son to be the best human being he could be?

"If I were to show you how you die now," Melitele's voice brings Halla back to the communion. "You would exist with agony in your heart, child. It would be cruel to do such a thing to you."

Halla frowns. "Is it not just as cruel, Mother Goddess, to force me to live with the agony of not knowing when or how? Not knowing when to say goodbye to my family?"

Melitele remains silent for a moment. Thinking. Their silence is easy. She continues her embroidery and Halla can see the letter 'G' across from Ruselm's name now.

The 'G' bothers her.

Not because this is going to show the name of Ruselm's partner in life. Her son was going to grow into a handsome man someday, she knew this. Halla wouldn't be surprised if he had multiple suitors over his years. But this 'G' sat with her because she knew that whoever this letter belonged to, she would never get to meet them.

That's what it was going to boil down to, wasn't it?

She would never meet her son's partner.

She'd never meet his kids.

See him old.

And it filled her with a fury like no other at the unfairness of it all. And sadness.

Before long, Melitele breaks the silence and it takes Halla a moment to realize she has been clenching her fists so hard her nails have left small cuts into her palms. Small beads of blood bloom from the cuts. She wipes them on her dress and focuses on the goddess in front of her.

"Both options are cruel."

"Indeed, Goddess," Halla's voice trembles with unspent anger. "Can I not then choose which agony to live with?"

Melitele sighs. "Little one, I have watched over you your whole life. I have seen you triumph. I have seen you fail. I have seen you cry, break, rebuild. I have witnessed every waking moment because you are important to me. I daresay I know you better than you know yourself, Halla. I know what this will do to you and I want your last moments to be spent not with fear or pain or apprehension of the end, but I want you to be filled with love and embrace death with the grace you have shown your whole life. Your last days should be with Ruselm, not fighting a monster when you are fated to lose."

"How could I lose if I know what I am to fight?" Halla cries out, suddenly desperate. She latches onto the hem of Melitele's dress with vigor and stares hard at her. "I could bring back the Witcher! I can alert our guards! I can fight!"

Her cries fall upon deaf ears.

Melitele continues to embroider in silence.

How could she not answer her?! Why?

"Goddess!"

No answer.

"Please! Please help me," she begs. Hot tears begin to trail down her cheeks. Halla is shamelessly fraught with fear and anxiety. "Just tell me, Goddess!"

The crone then shakes her head. Clears her throat. Halla thinks she can hear a waver in the goddess' voice when she speaks but it is gone so quickly she wasn't sure it existed at all.

"You cannot fight this one, lamb."

"How do you know that?!"

"There is an end to all things, Halla. Nothing lasts forever. Nobody escapes the end. Even if I were to tell you how you would die, you would only bring about your demise. Fate's a funny thing," Melitele remarks sadly. "No matter how hard you fight or how fast you run, she will always be a step behind you. Waiting. Waiting until you tire or slow."

Halla releases Melitele's dress, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She sniffles and rises to her feet once more. This line of questioning was useless. Her goddess would show her nothing, that much she understood.

She turns to leave but stops.

"Melitele?" Halla addresses her by name.

"Yes, child?"

"Can you tell me..." she thought of how to phrase her question. "Will Ruselm live a happy life? Will he be okay when I am gone?"

The goddess stops her embroidery and turns her sightless eyes to Halla, staring right through her. A sad smile turns her lips. "He is like you, Halla. Strong. Sensitive. Resilient. Much in the way you survived after the Nilfgaardians came to Nazair, he will find a way to persevere on his path."

Halla can only manage a morose nod.

She opens her eyes again and feels the roar of Chaos fade into silence. She is back in the greenhouse, back in the real world again. Staring up at the stone statue of Melitele, Halla can't help but think if the goddess' other forms might have been more helpful to her than the old crone.

She sits there for a moment more. The silence of the garden was soothing, the air sweet and calm. Halla relaxes here in her safe space.

The 'G' still bothers her.

But not moreso than the fact that Melitele had informed her a monster would be her demise.
Because that's what she had said, wasn't it? Your last days should be with Ruselm, not fighting a monster when you are fated to lose. Those were her words exactly.

Halla imagined sharp teeth tearing into her flesh, ripping sinew and crushing bone.

Or red eyes peering ominously from the darkness.

Pain. Screaming. Agony.

The end.

A monster did not always make swift on their killing, she knew that. It only depended on which monster would be her doom, if they toyed with their prey or not. Halla had a sickening feeling that her last moments would be staring at the very same sky above her now.

She looks up.

It is a cloudless day, bright, with a clear blue sky that stretches for leagues across as far as the eye can see. The sun is directly overhead now, ringing the garden with a golden halo. A crow flies over the glass greenhouse, just one. Then two. Three. Four, and Halla loses count after that. An entire murder is flying over the estate and in the direction they head, a looming forest awaits.

Halla is suddenly very sure this is where her demise would be. She doesn't know how she knows, but she does. Call it a gut feeling. And hers were hardly ever wrong.

She sighs and looks back down to the ground still thinking about that letter 'G' that would, at some point, become a member of her family. She could only hope that this person would take better care of Ruselm than Halla was able to, that they could be around for him longer than she. Ruselm may be blessed by the goddess Melitele and he may be as strong as his mother, but this world was cruel and violent while he was not.

'G' had better be strong, she thinks.

*lacey's note:
I hope Halla's perspective isn't too boring for y'all! She's an interesting one to write for me. And I like that I can spend some time fleshing out the world that Ruselm is about to step into without overwhelming everyone right off the bat.

Sorry this chapter is so much shorter than the others! I'm cooking up something big so I'm gonna release this early.

I want the next 2 chapters to be the last ones from Halla's POV! So be ready for that. Please remember to comment, vote, and share with friends.

Some tidbits about the chapter:

─ If you didn't catch the details; Melitele is using the red string of fate and the silver scissors that are with it. Basically the family tree she's embroidering is representative of the fate of the Jurren family. You can probably guess who 'G' is.

─ A murder of crows can only mean one thing! Catch the foreshadowing?

─ Gut feelings are never wrong.

And remember, Melitele will provide.

See y'all soon. Might not be next month depending on how long it takes to write the last 2 chapters from Halla's POV.