The Myth of the Earth Demon
Once, there was a young female wood fae who was kind and beloved by everyone. When she was suddenly struck by a horrible sickness, everyone in her village was distressed by her misfortune. But none more than her beloved husband Kamzel who loved her more than life itself. He was helpless with despair at her wasting away with illness. He summoned all the healers, and even a sorceress to help him, but still his wife withered and faded day by day.
One evening, when he could not bear the sound of her dying breaths a moment longer, he fled into the deep woods and flung himself to the ground beneath the stars. He begged the gods, any god, to help him save his dear wife.
Suddenly, a large figure shrouded in an ebony cloak appeared from the shadows and loomed over Kamzel, his red eyes piercing.
“Did you summon me, faeling?” His voice boomed.
“I b-begged for anyone to hear my prayers, great one.”
“You are fortunate that I, Näkt, heard your pleas. For I am the most powerful of my brothers and sisters.”
Kamzel thanked him profusely, for it was known that the God of Night truly was one of the greatest and most superior of the gods.
“What would you give for the life of your wife?” he asked.
“Anything, my lord,” answered Kamzel foolishly.
“Then bring me the babe of a dryad. If you do so, then I will heal your wife, and you will live long years together until you both are gray and old.”
Kamzel hesitated as he lifted his gaze up to the looming god, his face hidden beneath a mantle.
“What will you do with the child?” Kamzel asked in a shaking voice.
To which the god answered, “If it saves your wife, does it matter?” The god then vanished, leaving the husband with dark thoughts and darker desires.
A dryad was a creature of the light, like himself. However, they were touched with special magick by Elska, the Goddess of the Wood, and were given long life. They rarely gave birth for the gods did not like long-living creatures to be bountiful as well. The price for their near immortality was to reproduce very rarely.
Furthermore, it was known that taking a babe from a dryad or naiad meant death. The child could not survive without the magick of their mother coursing through them as a swaddling. Could he murder one of his own to save his beloved wife?
Kamzel hurried home, distraught, and knelt at the bed of his beloved. She tossed and turned, drenched in the sweat of her sickness, calling out his name in hoarse whispers. He slept at her side, falling into a nightmare where his lovely wifewas devoured by death, her ghost chasing him with banshee screams.
When he woke, he knew what he must do, though his heart shrank from it. He crept out into the forest, using his skills as a woodsman to find a coven of dryads in a sycamore grove. It wasknown that they often nested in the giant, knotted trees amongst the thick foliage of leaves. He did indeed hear the creaky cry of an infant and took the child, replacing it with a wooden figure he had carved to trick the mother until he escaped the forest.
He did not think as he took the mewling bundle, its spindly, twig-like fingers reaching out of the swaddling. But Kamzel thought only of his beloved wife and ran until the child mewled no longer, until its body was still in his arms and he set the still bundle on the very spot where he’d met Näkt the night before.
“Here is the sacrifice!” he yelled, crying tears of shame for what he’ had done.
The dark god appeared, bellowing with laughter as he snatched up the bundle and then swallowed it whole. His aura of power shivered around him, magnifying with the pure blood of the magick-rich babe.
“How could you do that!” screamed Kamzel. “He was just a wee child.”
“I believe it was a girl,” corrected the dark figure. “And you were the one who killed her by bringing her to me.”
“I did not know you were such a cruel, heartless god,” cried Kamzel, weeping for what the god had done, for whathehad done.
“That is because I am not Näkt.” He tossed back his hood, revealing his six-horned head, jagged fangs, and cruel, monstrous face. A face that Kamzel could hardly look upon. The figure was not Näkt at all, but the trickster earth demon Dagdal, the sinister, outcast son of the god Vix.
“Dagdal,” whispered Kamzel.
“Thank you for the meal, faeling. The bright lights always taste sweetest.”
Kamzel fled from his evil presence instantly. Dagdal’s echoing laughter chased him as he tried to escape his wicked sin.
Unable to live with the shame and guilt, Kamzel fled to the Temple of Vix and confessed his transgression against the light fae.
It is not known what happened to Kamzel after that. Some say that the gods forgave him and he lived a long life, childless, but happy with his wife. Others say that his wife died because of his sin, and he killed himself with the grief of it. Some say that his wife lived, but the dryads found and killed Kamzel in his bed next to her. For everyone knows that the dryads are vengeful creatures.
