"Father, why do men fear the Old Willow Tree?"

"Father, why do men fear the Old Willow Tree?"

"That is a good and wise question, my son. A question that demands as it's answer a story."

"A story? Oh Father, please tell me!"

"I will, son. I will. It all began many years ago, during the dark times when men were more savage and barbaric than they are now. Bear in mind, my son, that this does not mean that they were lesser men than are we. No difference could be greater, in fact. These men were our betters in every aspect. They were stronger, quicker, and smarter. They were more wise and more crafty and far more skilled than are we."

"Then why are we their lessers, Father? Have we not learned from what they have left."

The old man smiled. "You are wiser than many your age, my son. One who is wise would assume this, but for one thing. These men in these dark times were also more given to their selfish natures than are we. They did not adhere to the Light and the Truth. As such, they cared nothing for their forefathers or their sons. They cared only for themselves."

The boy's eyes widened and his jaw fell unhinged. "Savages," he exclaimed.

The old man nodded and then continued his tale. "Yes, so it was in these dark times that one man in particular, Count DuLenz, greatly desired to possess a maiden, the Lady Adela, for his own. The Count was a man who had everything that coin could buy or blade could obtain, and yet in his wicked heart, he burned for the one thing he could not have - the betrothed of his brother, the King Theodric. For a long time, DuLenz held this desire secret in his heart and it tormented him.

"Then, one night, when returning from a raid, the Count built his camp beneath the boughs of the Old Willow Tree."

"The same one? The one by the River Fell?"

The old man nodded. "The very same one, although the river had a different name then... As the Count made his camp and built his fire, he spoke to himself, out loud, of the things he desired most, and of his hatred of those who held these things from his grasp. To his ill fortune, a Fell Grigori sat amid the branches of the tree that night."

Again, the boy child was overcome by surprise, and a touch of terror. "What? A Watcher!"

The old man nodded sagely. "You are wise to show your concern, my son. A Grigori is not to be trifled with, and a Fell Grigori even more so. The corrupted denizen of Heaven had heard the desires of the Count, spoken aloud, and now he could act upon them. He promised to give DuLenz the desire of this heart, if he would first cut out the heart of the King."

"The War! This is how the Brothar War began!" The boy cried, light dawning in his eyes.

The old man nodded again. "Yes, my son, and so began three hundred years of bloodshed and conflict...and that is why men fear the Old Willow. It is said that the Fell Grigori perches there still, angry and hungry that his prize has not yet been delivered..."

Art Source: "The willow devil" (c)/by Reicheran
Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth

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