Death Invites Itself to the Grand Fire

Every year the residents of Les Forges de Mellier gathered around a gigantic fire in the heart of the village. This was the Grand Fire, a tradition dating back centuries, meant to drive away winter and call for luck in the coming year. Men stacked wood, women prepared drinks and food, children danced in circles. It was a time of community, joy, and ancient magic.

That one night a stranger in a dark cloak appeared at the edge of the village square. No one recognized him, no one knew where he came from. He stepped forward and asked in a soft voice if he could join the festivities. The villagers, hospitable and good-hearted, invited him in. But as he danced, they saw something strange: his feet did not touch the ground. He floated, smooth and graceful, but as if he had no weight.

As the fire roared higher, the stranger’s cloak was slowly opened by the wind. What the villagers saw made their blood freeze. Beneath the cloak was no body, no flesh. Only bones, pale and shriveled, dancing without a soul. Skeletal hands reached for everyone who came near. The villagers understood immediately who this was: Death itself had come to their festival.

As panic seized the villagers and they retreated, an old woman stepped forward. She was wiser than the others, older than most, and she knew the old ways. With steady hand she took a jug of holy water, always kept by the church. “In nomine Patris et Filii!” she cried out, and threw the water on the flames. The fire exploded in a column of smoke and fire. The stranger screamed with a sound as if the earth itself were breaking, and vanished into the smoke. Only his dark cloak remained behind, empty and meaningless.

From that night on, the villagers of Les Forges de Mellier always bless the Grand Fire with holy water before lighting it. This practice is now passed down through generations, a protection against the unknown. Death has never returned, but the villagers take no chances. Each year, when the flames roar higher and the villagers dance, they whisper thanks to the old woman who saved their village.