I was an outsider, a stranger in this place. My violin case, strapped across my back, grew heavier with every step deeper into the village. The few villagers I passed glanced up briefly, their eyes flickering with suspicion, faces obscured by thick scarves or doors cracked just enough to peer out. They knew I didn’t belong. Outsiders never did. Whispers of the waterfall’s power had been passed down through generations, and Ørnes kept its secrets closely guarded.
It felt as though the village itself watched, holding its collective breath, waiting for something to unfold.
The forest’s edge opened up, revealing Fossegrim Falls in all its grandeur. The name alone seemed to carry a warning. Mist clung to the air, blurring my vision as I squinted, struggling to see through the haze of water and fog. My heart raced with every thundering drop. Something about this place felt eerie—a strange pull I couldn’t explain. The waterfall roared down the cliffs, its relentless rush never wavering. Though I had come in search of inspiration, standing before it now, doubt gnawed at me.
Stepping closer to the cliff’s edge, the spray of water stung my skin, sharp and cold, slicing through my jacket. My green eyes traced the jagged rocks where the water met the earth, and then I saw it—something hidden behind the falling water. I couldn’t tell if it was the mist or my own curiosity, but I moved instinctively, stepping through the damp grass toward the waterfall’s base.
There, behind the veil of water, a glimmer caught my attention. My breath caught in my throat. I reached out, fingers brushing against smooth, cold wood. A violin.
Pulling it free, the wood creaked as I tugged it into the open. It was old—ancient, even. The varnish was chipped, and deep scars marred its surface, as though it had endured something beyond time. I couldn’t explain it, but the moment my fingers brushed the strings, a strange connection sparked within me.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to freeze. The thunderous roar of the waterfall faded, leaving only the faint hum of the violin. The instrument itself seemed to call to me.
Without hesitation, I lifted the bow to the strings.
The first note was soft, hesitant, yet it shimmered in the air like a fleeting light. Then another, and another, the sound spilling out raw and unfiltered. The music came from somewhere deep inside, as if the violin was channeling something beyond me.
It wasn’t just beautiful; it was otherworldly. Closing my eyes, I lost myself in the melody, swept away by the magnetic pull of the music. The roar of the waterfall faded into a distant murmur, swallowed by the haunting notes that filled the air. With each vibration of the violin, the sound seemed to resonate through my chest, my very bones, as if the earth itself were singing along.
Then, the chill crept up my spine, unmistakable, a sensation of being watched. I opened my eyes, my hands still moving, playing notes I had never learned—phrases older than time itself.
A figure emerged from the mist.
He was impossibly tall, with silver hair flowing like water. His eyes, glowing with a luminous blue, locked onto mine. My heart stuttered. There was something entrancing about him, something both beautiful and dangerous. The air around him pulsed with power, an energy that repelled and beckoned me all at once.
"You play well," he said, his voice low, like a distant echo carried by the wind. "But there is more you could do."
Frozen, I could not look away. He was not human—not in any way I had ever known. His presence felt like an ancient force, yet there was something familiar in his gaze.
"Who... are you?" I whispered, my voice dry.
He stepped closer, mist swirling around him. "I am the Fossegrim," he said, his voice like the rush of water over stones. "I have watched you… watched your desire grow. I can give you the talent you crave, but everything has a price."
I couldn’t breathe. My fingers stilled on the violin, the haunting music still lingering in the air. The Fossegrim smiled, cold and calculating, a smile that promised something both beautiful and terrifying.
"Would you trade your soul for greatness?" His eyes burned into mine, and I felt the unspoken pull, a temptation unlike anything I had ever known.
For an instant, I almost said yes, willing to trade everything for the music that flowed so effortlessly through me. But something deep inside held me back. I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but I felt the weight of his words settling within me, heavy and dark.
Slowly, I lowered the violin, my hands trembling. "What do you want from me?"
He tilted his head, his smile widening. "Only what is mine to take."
Confusion gripped me, but before I could speak again, the Fossegrim stepped back into the mist, his figure dissolving like water slipping through my fingers.
Alone, I stood, the violin still in my hands, the music echoing through the cold air. The first signs of his power had already begun to show—the music now more than anything I had ever played. In that moment, I knew there was no going back.
My talent had been touched by something otherworldly. But at what cost?
The whispers of that cost were already creeping into the air, darker than the waterfall’s mist.
#
The first time I played in the village square, the air seemed to shift around me. Slick with mist rising from the waterfall, the cobblestones sent a chill through the atmosphere—typical for this time of year. Yet, I didn’t feel it. With effortless grace, my fingers moved, the bow gliding across the strings, coaxing out notes that made the very air shimmer. The sound spread outward, swirling through the crowd, drawing them in with a magnetic force they couldn’t resist.
No longer was I the struggling violinist who had arrived weeks earlier. The Fossegrim’s gift—no, his curse—had transformed me. My music had become more than just sound. It had become an experience, an emotion made real. The villagers, who had once regarded me with suspicion, were now entranced. Some stood frozen, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide with wonder. Others, though they tried to look away, quickened their steps, afraid to admit they were caught in the melody’s grip. But the pull was undeniable. Even those who knew better couldn’t help but listen.
At the edge of the crowd stood Rune, his brow furrowed, his eyes locked onto me with an intensity I couldn’t place. Rune Sæther had always been a constant in my life—steadfast and unafraid to challenge me when necessary. His tousled dark hair, a reminder of his rugged, outdoorsy nature, stood out against the backdrop of Ørnes’ grey wooden buildings. I could see the tension in his stance, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his jaw tightening as he watched the effect my music had on the villagers.
But it wasn’t just the villagers who noticed the change. The music followed me at night, an eerie, mournful tune that seemed to drift from the very heart of the falls. It whispered through the trees, curling around the edges of the cottages, slipping under doors like smoke. I couldn’t explain it, but I heard it—always just out of reach, like a phantom melody weaving in and out of my own.
The disappearances began soon after.
One by one, people vanished. An old woman, then a young couple who had only recently moved to Ørnes. Rumors spread like wildfire. Each disappearance was linked to the strange music that echoed late at night, carried on the wind, haunting the village’s quiet streets.
Some villagers whispered of the Fossegrim’s curse. Others tried to dismiss it as coincidence, but fear was written on their faces. I couldn’t help but wonder if they feared the music itself or the one who played it.
One evening, Rune found me by the waterfall. The mist was thicker than usual, a dense fog cloaking the forest. I played, as always. The violin felt like an extension of my own body, the music pouring out of me uncontrollably.
"You need to stop," Rune’s voice cut through the air, sharp and urgent, breaking through the melody.
I didn’t stop. The music was too perfect, too powerful. It surged through me, filling my veins and making me feel alive in ways I couldn’t explain. Rune’s words couldn’t reach me—not when the music flowed so strongly in my blood.
"Please, Ella," he pleaded, stepping closer. His face was a portrait of concern. "Something’s wrong. You don’t see it, but I do. Your music—it’s changed. It’s not... beautiful anymore. It’s darker."
I stopped playing then, though every part of me resisted. The last note lingered, a low, haunting reverberation that seemed to echo from the trees. Rune’s face appeared pale in the dimming light, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
"Rune, you’re being dramatic," I said, trying to steady my voice, though my heart pounded in my chest. The music, my music, was everything I had ever wanted. How could he not understand? "This is what I’ve always wanted—to be heard, to be great."
"You don’t get it," he said, his voice rising. "People are disappearing, Ella. This music—it’s coming from the falls, from him. The Fossegrim’s curse... it’s real, I know it."
I laughed, the sound hollow, my eyes darting nervously toward the mist. "The Fossegrim is just a legend. You’re letting your superstitions get the best of you."
Rune’s jaw tightened. "I’m not letting anything control me. You’re changing, Ella. I can see it. You’re not the person I knew." He stepped closer, his gaze softening for a moment. "I’m trying to help you, please. Listen to me."
Bitterness rose in my chest, the sting of something unspoken. "I don’t need your help, Rune. I’ve found my path. You wouldn’t understand."
The words escaped before I could stop them. The look on Rune’s face—hurt, confusion, and something deeper—lingered long after he left. He didn’t come back the next day or the one after. I told myself it didn’t matter. I had my music. I had everything I’d ever wanted.
But that night, as I tried to sleep, something changed. The haunting melody followed me into my dreams. It started as a faint echo, like ripples in water spreading across a still pond. Then it grew louder, more insistent, until it surrounded me, pulsing like the air itself had become alive.
And there, in the center of it all, stood the Fossegrim.
His glowing blue eyes pierced the darkness, his smile sending a shiver down my spine. "You’ve played so beautifully, Ella," he murmured, his voice a thousand whispers. "But remember—the music is never free. There is always a price."
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His gaze rooted me in place, and the music wrapped around me, impossible to escape.
"You’ve taken my gift," he continued, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. "And now you must give something in return. You will play, and you will rise. But I will always be with you."
His form shifted, dissolving into the mist.
When I woke, my heart raced, the sound of the waterfall louder than ever. The melody lingered in my mind, a constant echo. Something felt wrong. There was no turning back, I knew that now. But as my fingers brushed the violin’s cold wood, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth it.
And if Rune had been right—that the price was far greater than I had ever imagined.
#
The violin had become my lifeline—both an anchor and a curse. Each morning, the urge to play woke me, my fingers twitching in the cold air, desperate to touch the strings. The haunting melody had taken root in my mind, and I could barely recall the last time I had slept without it echoing through my thoughts. Outside my window, the comforting sound of the waterfall had twisted into something darker, its roar now a constant companion to the unrelenting pull of the music. It seeped into everything—the air, the trees, the ground beneath me—alive with the presence of Fossegrim.
With every passing day, the music grew sharper, clearer, more insistent. It wrapped itself around my thoughts, tightening until nothing else remained but the relentless need to play.
At times, I would close my eyes, and there he was—the Fossegrim. His glowing blue eyes would appear in the dark corners of the room, his tall form flickering like a shadow in moonlight. I could almost hear his voice, a whisper carried on the pulse of the music: “More,” he would murmur. “You need more.”
Though I refused to admit it, I could feel myself changing. My skin had grown pale, almost translucent in the weak winter light filtering through the frosted windows. Trembling, my hands ached from the constant motion, driven by an unyielding need to perfect each note. The reflection in the window no longer resembled me. My auburn hair had grown wild and unkempt, while my sharp green eyes gleamed unnaturally, as if fever burned beneath the surface.
The hallucinations crept in slowly at first—a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision, a whisper carried by the wind, the shadow of the Fossegrim lingering just beyond reach. But as I played more, the visions became harder to ignore. One night, as I practiced in my room, I swore I saw my reflection smile back at me. I hadn’t moved, but my reflection did—her lips curling into a grin that wasn’t mine. It felt like a cruel joke, but the music kept me rooted, keeping me from reacting too strongly to the sight.
Whispers filled the air, faint at first, like a distant murmur of voices. The villagers spoke when they thought I couldn’t hear. They said I was losing myself, consumed by the music. They were wrong. I had to be great. I had to prove it to everyone.
But Rune—he hadn’t been around much lately. I saw him walking the streets, his face more worn, his dark hair tousled in a way that made him seem even more rugged than usual. He watched me with the same worried expression, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a weight, as though he saw something he didn’t want to.
One afternoon, Rune cornered me. I sat by the waterfall, the violin resting in my lap. He stood just beyond the mist, his figure outlined in the soft light of dusk, his fists clenched at his sides.
“You’ve changed, Ella,” he said, his voice cutting through the roar of the waterfall. “This—this isn’t you.”
At first, I didn’t answer. The music—my music—demanded my attention. It hummed in my ears, pulling at me with the urgency of a river’s current.
“I’m fine,” I replied, my voice steady but betraying a hint of desperation. I was fine. I had to be.
Rune took a step closer, his boots crunching softly against the snow. “No, you’re not. You’re obsessed. You play all the time, and you’re pushing everyone away.” His gaze softened, his eyes searching mine. “Ella, this violin… it’s cursed.”
His words hit me like a blow. My hand tightened around the violin, a strange urge rising within me to drown out his voice with the music. “You don’t understand,” I snapped, my voice sharp. “This is my chance. Everything I’ve worked for. You think I’m obsessed? I am obsessed. Don’t you get it, Rune? I’m going to be great. I will be.”
“I know what’s happening,” he said urgently, his voice tinged with fear. “I know the stories. The Fossegrim—he feeds off your ambition, your desire. But it’s never enough. You’ll lose yourself, Ella. And if you keep going, if you keep playing—if you keep feeding it—you’ll drag everyone else into it, too.”
I shook my head, dismissing his words with a flick of my wrist. “No. You’re wrong. I’ve found my path. I’ve found my sound. It’s perfect. It’s everything.” My heart pounded in my chest, my hands trembling again. The music swirled through me, a fire in my veins. I couldn’t stop it. I wouldn’t stop.
Rune’s face softened, his concern deepening. “I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself, Ella. If you won’t listen to me, at least listen to the village elders.”
The mention of the elders sent a chill through me. The ancient folk who spoke of the Fossegrim in hushed tones, the ones bound to rituals and superstitions. But I could feel it—something ancient and dark was growing. I could feel the weight of their eyes on me, the whispers when I passed by. They knew.
Later that night, as I sat in my room with the violin in my hands, a knock echoed from my door. I thought it was Rune, returning to try once more to pull me back from the brink. But when I opened the door, the village elders stood before me. Three of them, their faces grave and their eyes cold.
“Ella Jørgensen,” the eldest, a woman with pale, wrinkled skin, spoke first. Her voice trembled, but not from fear. “You must stop. The Fossegrim’s curse is upon you. We’ve seen it before—the music calls, and it pulls you deeper, until you are no longer yourself.”
I stepped back, clutching the violin tightly in my hands. “I don’t believe in curses,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “This is mine. I’m doing this for me.”
The woman shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with sadness. “And at what cost, child? Your soul will be lost, just as it was lost for those before you.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Her words sank into my chest, cold as ice. For the first time, doubt flickered in my mind. But before I could speak, a crash echoed from outside, followed by cries and shouts. My heart stopped.
I rushed to the window, my breath fogging up the glass. Below, a young man—someone I’d seen around the village—lay crumpled in the snow, his body still and broken. I didn’t need to see his face to know. The melody I had been playing had haunted the air. The same song had reached him.
In that instant, I understood the terrible truth: it wasn’t just me anymore. The Fossegrim’s power had spread, and it had claimed another soul.
There was no escaping it. I was entangled in his web, and there was no way out.
#
The weight of my actions pressed down on me, suffocating every thought and movement. There was no escape. Each note I played, every melody I had summoned, had drawn others into the Fossegrim’s curse. Now, those lives rested in my hands, each soul tethered to my ambition, my obsession. Relentlessly, the image of the young man, lifeless in the street, replayed in my mind. His death stood as a direct consequence of my choices—of my greed.
I had been blind, chasing a dream that should have never been mine. But now, the spirit came for more, having already taken so much. It had to end. I had to find a way to undo it all, to stop the destruction.
The wind howled through the trees as Rune and I made our way through the forest. His silence had become a constant companion since the night the accident occurred. His dark eyes, once filled with understanding, now reflected quiet sadness and an anger he didn’t need to speak aloud. He had warned me, time and again. But I hadn’t listened.
We spent days in the village library, poring over brittle texts, searching for any hint of a solution. The ink was faded, the pages nearly falling apart, but the story was clear, and it made my blood run cold.
Once, the Fossegrim had been a man—an extraordinary musician who sought the spirit’s teachings, desperate to transcend human limitations. Consumed by greed, he had played tirelessly, hours blending into days and days into weeks, until his body could no longer bear the strain. In the end, the spirit had claimed him, stripping him of his soul, his humanity, leaving him bound to the waterfall, forever tied to the music that promised him greatness.
And now, that same spirit had found me.
The realization hit me hard. I had become him.
Rune stopped, his boots crunching against the frost-coated earth, his gaze settling on me with a depth of frustration and sorrow. “Ella,” he said softly, but the weight of years of friendship and concern lingered in his voice. “You have to stop. It’s not just about the music anymore. It’s your soul. We’ve found the way to break the curse, but it comes with a price.”
I nodded, unable to speak. I had known this was the only way for days, but fear had kept me from facing the truth. To break the Fossegrim’s hold, I had to give up everything—my music, my career, everything I had fought so hard for. I had to let go of the very thing I believed to be my essence. The worst part was, I wasn’t sure I could.
But there was no other choice.
“How?” I asked, my voice shaking. “How do we undo what I’ve done?”
Rune exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “There’s only one place left to go—the waterfall, the source of the curse. We’ll face the Fossegrim there.” He reached out, his rough hand brushing my arm. “Ella, whatever happens, remember—this isn’t about the music anymore. It’s about you.”
The Fossegrim awaited us. I could feel its presence growing stronger with each step, pressing down on my chest as we neared the forest’s edge, where the mist from the waterfall began to creep in. The air thickened, the cold deepened, and the roar of the water filled the silence around us, swallowing everything else.
We had arrived at the heart of the falls—the very place where it all began, where the music had first whispered into my soul. And now, it was time for the Fossegrim to claim what he was owed.
Rune stood beside me, his face set in grim determination, though the faintest tremor shook his hand as it brushed against mine. The mist swirled around us, blurring the world, but I could still make out the Fossegrim emerging from the veil. His towering form loomed above, eyes glowing icy blue, cutting through the haze and straight into me. Silver hair flowed around him, undulating like water. His smile was sharp, predatory, as the sound of water crashing under his feet echoed through the stillness.
“You cannot escape what you’ve become, Ella Jørgensen,” he said, his voice a low hum, dark and enticing. “Your soul was always mine the moment you touched the violin. All you must do is surrender it to me.”
I stepped forward, ignoring the tremor in my hands, clenched tight at my sides. The violin—the cursed thing—hung from my back, heavy against me, its weight insignificant compared to the spirit’s hold. It had consumed me for so long, filling me with a desire for greatness so entangled with my very being, I could no longer tell where I ended and it began. But now, as I faced the Fossegrim, something shifted inside me.
“No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, yet it carried through the air like the first winds of a storm. "I won’t give you my soul. Not like this."
The Fossegrim’s eyes narrowed. The air around us grew frigid. The waterfall’s roar became a low, vibrating hum, thundering through my chest. "Then you will pay for your defiance," he said. "You took my gift. Now, I will take what is mine." His hands stretched toward me, long, bony fingers curving like claws, reaching for what he most desired—my essence, my very soul.
I felt the pull, the lure to reach for the violin once more, to give in and allow him to consume me. It was the easy path—the one I had once believed would bring salvation. But I understood it now. I knew the cost.
And I would not let it take me.
“Rune,” I said, turning to face him. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear, but behind that, there was something else—something fierce. He wasn’t going to let me go either.
“You don’t have to do this, Ella,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve already paid enough. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to me, not to yourself.”
My gaze returned to the Fossegrim, my heart thudding in my chest. The music beckoned, a siren’s call luring me into darkness. But I felt its weight now, wrapping around me, an endless hunger tied to the Fossegrim’s magic. I understood, in that instant, what had to be done.
I lifted the violin from my back, its cool surface resting against my skin. Once, I had thought it the key to my dreams, my ticket to greatness. But standing here now, I saw it for what it truly was—an anchor, a chain, a tool of destruction.
With trembling hands, I brought the violin to my chest. The Fossegrim’s eyes widened, but I could not look at him anymore. My vision was consumed by the music—the promise of perfection, the greed that had once blinded me. Taking a step back, I gasped for air, and in one desperate motion, I hurled the violin onto the rocks.
The sound was deafening—like the breaking of something fragile and ancient. The strings snapped, the wood splintered, and the world seemed to shudder as the last remnants of the Fossegrim’s curse shattered. Silence followed. Deep, suffocating silence.
For a heartbeat, the Fossegrim stood frozen, his rage swirling in the air around us. His form flickered, fraying at the edges like a fading dream. His voice, venomous and cold, echoed through the stillness.
“You cannot escape me,” he growled, his presence expanding, a storm of fury and dark power. “You will pay.”
His hand shot out like a whip of water, reaching for me again, but before it could touch me, the ground shook beneath us. Rune grabbed my arm, pulling me back, his grip firm as we stumbled away from the Fossegrim. The spirit’s power lashed out, but it faltered. It was no longer enough.
“No!” Rune shouted, his voice rising above the chaos. “You won’t take her!”
With the last of my strength, I turned and ran, stumbling over the rocks as the Fossegrim’s wrath followed us, crashing like an overwhelming wave. The force of it nearly knocked me off my feet, but Rune held on, pulling me through the mist, through the storm.
We reached the edge of the waterfall, the solid ground offering a brief respite, where the Fossegrim’s influence could no longer touch us. His furious howl carried away with the wind. But we were safe.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. Rune dropped beside me, his hands shaking, but his expression softened, relief flooding his face. “We did it,” he whispered.
I nodded, the truth of it settling deep inside. The Fossegrim was gone. The curse was broken. But the price had been high.
The violin was gone, its sweet strains now nothing more than a distant memory. The music—the haunting, perfect melody—had faded into silence. Yet, in its absence, something else remained. My own heartbeat reverberated in the stillness, while the rustling trees and the wind swirling around me filled the void. No longer did the world echo someone else’s dreams. It had become my own.
“I’m free,” I whispered, the words tasting like the first breath of air after drowning.
Rune’s hand rested on my shoulder, steadying me. “We both are.”
Above us, the sky cleared. The clouds parted, revealing the pale light of dawn. The mist still clung to the air, but it was no longer oppressive. It was just mist.
I understood, music wasn’t about perfection. It was the expression of who I truly was, unfiltered and pure. I could play again, but not to become someone else—not to chase a dream of fame or greatness. I could play because it was mine. My gift. My voice.
I rose slowly, my feet unsteady, but my heart steady.
“There’s a whole world of music out there,” I said, my voice filled with quiet excitement. “And it’s waiting for me.”
Rune smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’ve found your path, Ella.”
And as the first light of morning washed over us, I realized I had.
No comments:
Post a Comment