YOUR NARRATOR:  

Welcome back, dear friends. 

I hope you're coming to me happy and well tonight. 

I am happy and well.

Perhaps a little too happy, because...well, because that voice has gotten closer. That voice in my woods, I am sure now, has found out my little sanctuary, and they seem to come close and speak to me from the outside. Well, seem...they do come close, and they do speak to me. From outside my little cottage of roots and vines. I know, because when they come, they bring with them a vivid, glowing red and orange light. Firelight, certainly. At first, it made me quite afraid, along with that smell of burning wood...but now, now I don't mind it, really. I love it. Sure, it is dangerous to me and it stings my eyes and burns my nose. But I love it. 

Is that something about me, that I don't remember? That I am drawn towards that which I know to be a danger to me? 

I have been loving the peace in my little home here. But I must admit, I do grow restless. 

I must let myself build my strength, I think. First, strength: then, boldness. 

I don't think the creature of whispers and fire can get to me in here. But I do sense that they want to. Why should that be? 

What do you want? 

They're not answering. I think they've left. 

At any rate, my friends, one night while they were here, I shuffled my cards and absently decided to draw one for the week. 

You'll never believe which card I drew. 

It was the Hierophant.

Yet it was reversed. 

And when I looked down on it, even though I didn't tell the voice outside what I had drawn and there is no way they could have seen it, they laughed a strange, smoky laugh. 

It's because I've seen this card before. 

I think I saw it...last year. Sometime. 

But I didn't draw it by chance. 

I had decided to reverse it. 

It was the only card I had decided to reverse, in order to properly tell you a story.

I think it was my story. 

I think the Reversed Hierophant was...was a lost soul with wings who had lost his path, and therefore created a new one for himself. 

I remember him. 

How sweet, he was. 

Anyway, let me tell you about the Hierophant, Reversed. 

The Hierophant when he is drawn upside down, such as he always seems to want to be when I draw him, tells us to challenge what we have been told is true. This card rebels against authority, against tradition. It reminds us that we know enough inside of our hearts to rule over ourselves. So often, we feel the need to seek approval from the outside, or from those we believe to be "in power". This is ridiculous, since we often know that those who find themselves in a place of power are not interested in our approval. They are not, necessarily, correct, or virtuous, or wise. So, we must govern ourselves. We must trust our own instincts, our true wisdom. 

I believe, in a past life, in a story I've taken a long time and great pains to tell you before, I rebelled against authority. 

I think, perhaps, I ought to keep up that tradition. That is, when there is authority for me to reject. I have had peace lately in that I have been allowed to rule myself without conflict, here, in my home. 

I don't think the voice outside, that comes with the smell and sight of fire, is trying to gain power over me. 

If they did...

well, I think I learned my lesson last time. In the last...form, in which you found me. 

I do trust myself. That is a good place to start. I have no desire for any power other than that. 

This reminds me of a story. 

I don't want to tell you a story about that other Hierophant, because...because I don't remember it. It is from a Me that I am no longer concerned with. I am concerned with this Me, and this Me seems to be a creature of the forest. In these woods, I am green and growing and strange, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I have a story about another haunted Wood, and another Hierophant. Upright, at least at first. Clinging to any power that he could grab. 

Ready? 

Once upon a time, there was a forest. It was a forest much like this one...well, I suppose it could be this one, couldn't it? At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter. There are forests in the world, very, very old forests. There  are forests so old that the air is heavy with contempt for anyone that passes through them that has not been there for years. These forests are both fearsome and afraid; afraid of their sanctuary being discovered, and fearsome because they will fight to protect discovery from happening at all costs.

These Woods of which I speak were ruled over by a tyrant-king, you see. Now, I don't mean by that that he was the king of any country, not any country in the way that we - I mean, of course, you - understand countries to exist. He was the King of the Woods.

Ancient as the soil from which the trees grew.

Strong as the rocks that waited silently beneath that soil.

Wicked as the poison that hid in the berries that grew from the bushes that sprouted from that soil that lay over those rocks.

Perhaps he had once been wise. Perhaps he had once cared for the things that dwelt in his woods. Perhaps he once had mercy for wanderers who found their way here. Spirits that dwell in the natural places in this world are, I find, most often not "good" or "evil". They are as the trees and the soil and the rocks; they are what they are, and they want what they want. But, in time, as their world changes, so too they must change.

So perhaps it was from years of mistreatment at the hands of humans who would come and take the bounty from the forest. They wanted the large trees. They wanted the silent deer. They wanted the gems in the rocks. They wanted, they wanted, and they wanted. And so, he learned to grow selfish, too. He learned how to covet that which he already had.

He grew so covetous, that he set to work to protecting his forest and its treasures. After so many years of building up his kingdom and defending it from those who might come in and do him and his world harm...he became suspicious of any and all who might enter here. He became fearful of them taking his great and mighty kingdom away from him.

He grew to be Wicked.

Who knows what he looked like before that? Who knows how he chose to present himself to the world when he was not quite so powerful, quite so hungry, quite so...so huge.

But now, if you were to see him in the woods...well, I'll tell you what happens to those who saw him in the woods later.

For now, I'll try to relate it to you as clearly as I can.

Because most often, he moved swiftly among the trees, behind them and among them within the shadows, you would not be able to tell just how large he was. But I'll tell you. He was massive. The height of two grown men, and strong as ten. He walked with hunched shoulders and back, as if he were carrying the weight of all the forest with him at all times, and yet he moved as lightly as a shadow, with footfalls as swift and soft as a whisper. He used to stand up tall and proud, but that was when he had a huge, spindled crown of gold that he wore with pride; but, it was told among the people who knew well enough to steer clear of these woods that a mischievous spirit, a trickster, had taken his crown from him. Now, he kept his head bent low and he never, ever laughed again. If it had the voice to admit it, the forest would say that it missed his laughter. His fingers were long and graceful and sharp - sharp as a branch you would not want to graze as you ran away from him. He had eyes that were red - apart from the poisonous berries that sprang up here and there in the forest, his eyes were the only other red things in these woods. Take care to understand that they did not glow. Take care to understand that you only saw them if you stared deeply and intently into the shadows for a long time, wondering and wondering whether or not you in fact saw them at all, until it was too late - that would be when he had you. If you were staring and wondering whether or not there was something staring back at you....that, surely, was the King of the Wood. And by that time, those fingers were wrapped around your shoulders and drawing you further in the shadows.

For, there were only three laws in these Woods, should you be so unfortunate as to stumble your way there.

and 3. Never spend the night. Well, the night was barely any different from the day, so dark were these woods under the canopy of trees and vines and spiderwebs, that this law was in place only because it was so easy to break.

And if you broke any one of his laws, then you were his. And certainly, woe to the one who broke all three rules.

That is all there is to it.

You became part of the forest, which meant you belonged to him.

Best to not enter those woods. Ever. Lest you become part of his collection.

(Collection?

Collectibles...

I remember something about that...I think I used to collect...something.

I collected this story, didn't I?

Oh well. I'm sure it will come back to me.)

And so, of course you know what this story must be about.

One day, someone entered the forest, and broke the rules.

A woman entered the forest. It was late in the day. And it only took a matter of minutes for the King to find out. You see, he had messengers in the crows; he had spies in the squirrels; and though his eyes were not strong in the daylight, he could smell a stranger in his land a mile away.

But this one, he heard.

She entered, happily whistling, head held high. Looking around, she sighed and laughed at pleasant little sights she saw...little yellow flowers around her, scurrying rodents crossing her path, crows circling above her head. Everything seemed to please her. Even as the forest grew darker and darker the more shrouded it was, she didn't seem to grow afraid, as most of them would. She never stopped in her path, for she didn't seem to be afraid of losing her way. She just walked, and laughed, and whistled, and danced. She was a grown woman, playing in the forest, full of glee. She spent hours like this, relishing the space she believed she had all to herself.

Sunset is coming, the King of the Woods thought to himself, and he wondered whether she would grow too afraid and leave before nightfall. When she didn't, he smiled to himself - it was a smile full of sharp teeth and dripping with tree sap. One law of his, broken. She would be added to his collection before the night was through.

But she kept exploring. She was not afraid of the dark. As she walked, she noticed something; it was a large, grey rock, covered in dirt and moss, and it had been split in two, somehow. Within, there glistened sparkling crystals, waiting, drawing her in. She did not disguise her adoration as she saw it, and smiled. Kneeling, she took another small rock and began to chip away at the stone, until she successfully removed a lovely large piece. She admired the way it twinkled in the little moonlight she had on her side, and she hid it in a pocket in her skirts.

[The King's voice is deep and rumbling and shadowy]

She's taken something of mine, the King of the Woods mused. There was a second law of his, broken. His grin grew even wider. He wanted to meet this girl, this silly thing that didn't understand what she was getting herself into. This light-hearted fool of a woman who didn't know what was hers and what wasn't.

Moving between the trees, swift as the ghost of a stag, he went. She knew something was wrong when the crows were no longer overhead and the squirrels were no longer scurrying. And yet her oblivious smile wouldn't falter. He found her, and he watched her from those shadows. He didn't take care to breathe silently or hide his presence. She would know of it soon enough.

It was when she stopped dancing and walking, her back to him, that he believed she began to suspect his presence. She turned slowly, the smile fading just a little. She stared into the shadows.

She stared where his eyes were. And he saw that look on her face, that look of slow realization as she began to recognize the sight of the two dimly burning red orbs, hiding, waiting.

"You don't look like you brought a gift", he said to her, and laughed deeply. That was the third rule broken. "Now, my dear, you will be mine. Just like all the others."

Suddenly, the birds began to scream in the forest, all at once. The squirrels ran up and down trees frantically, directionless. All of the little creatures within the woods cried, and the trees shook with their despair.

Normally, this would be extremely horrible for a human to endure. The sound of it, the sight of it, was often too much to bear. But the woman did bear it. She did, until he raised his long, spindled fingers and snapped them, and the din stopped.

And her smile had returned to her face, full and bright. "What a beautiful kingdom!" She said, and bowed to him. "Fit for any great King. Surely, you must be great beyond measure!" And when she stood, she looked at him with a glint in her eye. Unafraid, she moved closer to him. "But, you were quite wrong about something. I did bring you a gift, Mighty King! I've longed for an audience with your Greatness, and here I am - shall I bestow my gift upon you?"

The way she moved unsettled him. It was quick, it was confident, it was...it was playful. She was playing with him, just as she had played in his forest, and he did not like it.

"Show me your gift," he growled. "Let us hope that it pleases me."

She raised a finger and grinned even more widely. "Ah, ah, ah, your Majesty. This is a most special gift. If it pleases you enough to take it, I would like to receive something in return." 

He snarled at her. He circled her. She couldn't see much, but she could see the great, curling, wooden horns that grew from his head; she could see the lines carved into the bark of his skin - once noble, now angry - and she could see the pain in his shoulders. The want in his body, that had warped him into this ancient, crouched, thing. And he looked at her, a pretty thing and yet a very common thing. Humans were common things, or so he thought. Not nearly as magnificent as a tree or a beast or a spirit like him. But this one...this one had something behind her eyes that he did not like, and yet could not look away from. 

"I do not bargain with the likes of you and your kind," he growled at her. He was the one who made the rules in his forest. But, she had said it was a most special gift...and she held nothing in her arms. What was the gift? His curiosity was piqued. And the ill-advised fire in her eyes was impossible to look away from. And the way she held up her feeble mortal body with dignity and joy was charming to him. And that foolishness in her smile was...well, it was amusing to him. Enamoured, he was, for sometimes it is a terrible truth about humanity, that you are enamoured with what you think you despise. And this, I think, is true for spirits sometimes, too. He continued: "However, for your bravery - foolish thought it may be - I will offer you this." He extended a hand to her and bowed slightly. A small ring began to form in his huge hand. "If your gift pleases me, mortal, then you will not be a bird or a beast of the woods. You may be my Queen. My Forest-Bride. You will stay by my side forever, here, in the darkness of the woods, and forever reject the company of your own. You will be shadow and spirit, as I am. You will be mine, but you will have power over this place as I will." 

And she smiled broadly, with her teeth, but she didn't interrupt. 

He was shocked that she had no answer. He expected one, whether it was positive or negative. He grew irritated at her silence, suddenly. "Childish and inane, though you are, I would rather have you by my side than under my command. Join me, for I think, perhaps, that I love you." 

She laughed uproariously at that. 

And he felt a terrible rage deep in his gut. A boiling, red-hot rage. "Show me your gift!" he demanded. 

Still laughing, she wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh, great King, forgive me. I did not mean to laugh..." she held her hands behind her back. And when she brought them forward once more, it was clear that the gift had been pulled from thin air. This, this...was no ordinary human. 

In front of her was an enormous crown, its prongs reaching high up to the heaven, shaped into ornate golden branches. It sparkled, just as beautiful as it had been when he lost it all those years ago. "Great King..." she said, and took the ring from his hand. "I accept." 

His eyes widened, as she removed whatever easy Glamour she had placed over herself. 

Her body seemed to stretch and grow, with groans and cracks that sounded like hollow wood; like bone mending itself. She grew to be even taller than two human men. Her smooth human skin began to grow strange and grey, like the very rock she had been so entranced by earlier; crystalline were her teeth, like the crystal on the inside of that rock that she'd stolen, and crystalline too were the great curling horns that sprouted on top of her head. Gorgeous and awful all at once, she was, just like him, and she still smiled even as she stretched out her neck and shoulders with loud, painful cracks. 

"You..." he whispered. 

"Me." she exclaimed. 

[The Trickster's voice is also distant and foggy, like his, now]

She had tricked him so many years ago. She was a spirit of this forest, yes, but more importantly, one of mischief. She delighted in chaos and confusion, but she believed in freedom and in peace. She had taken his crown; not because she wanted to be the ruler of this place, but because she didn't like that he considered himself to be one. The Woods cannot belong to any one person. But taking his crown didn't seem to remind him of that. Taking his crown only seemed to make him more and more desperate to keep what power he did have. 

His eyes filled with fear. He had proclaimed her Queen, and offered her his hand. And she had his crown; she had his power. He seemed to shrink before her eyes. 

"Oh, my love, my King," she purred in a suspiciously comforting tone. "I seek power neither over you, nor over this land." 

Trembling, he held his hands over his face, never having felt more small or hideous in his long existence. "What do you want, then?" 

She smiled. "You are far too serious for your own good, I hope you know that."  And then, she simply said: "Don't you see? I want Nothing." and the crown erupted into flame before his very eyes. And then, it disappeared.

At first, he screamed. He clutched at his head, at his body, as though they would crumble. The birds and the rodents all screamed and scrambled once more; but they seemed to grow larger and change. They ran towards the outskirts of the forest; even as they did, the trees overhead and the spiderwebs began to pull apart, letting the moonlight in. By the time the animals had reached the outer boundaries, they were the humans they had once been. Lost people, but still with the vague memory of who they once were, though no idea how they had come to this strange wood. Confused, naked and grateful to be safe, they ran far, far away from this place, never to return. 

[The same musical theme from before is heard beneath the following:]

But the King of the Woods did not die. He did not lose his body or his strength. When he opened his eyes, he saw the moonlight streaming in, and he heard the calm chirping of real birds; the tranquil call of natural owls, that he had so often missed because of the crying of those humans he had trapped and wronged, now free. Now he was free to enjoy the forest for what it was, and what it was always meant to be. 

The sight of the moonlight and the sound of the creatures was enough. He slowly stretched his shoulders back and held his head up high - though it wasn't without the sound of painful bone-cracking and wooden creaks, too - and when he stood taller than ever before, his great wooden horns reaching through his great mane of matted curls and his chest broad and full of gratitude to be alive, he laughed. And yes, though it hated to admit it, the forest did miss that laughter. It allowed itself to shake and rumble with that sound.

And the trickster stood, resplendent with her crystal horns climbing through her own tangled mess of silver-grey hair, tall and strong as him and unafraid of anything, and she joined his laughter, too. 

Some places were not meant to have a King, nor a Queen. But they lived as husband and wife in those woods, which - in time - forgave him his blasphemous reign. 

He was happier, being the King over nothing at all really, and simply getting to enjoy everything. 

They laughed often. 

This frightened human visitors at times. And that made the couple laugh even harder. 

Of course, you know I visited those Woods. 

I don't think it's these Woods I'm in now. But who knows. 

One night, I went. And I saw them, chasing each other in the trees around me. 

I think they tried to frighten me, and of course, it didn't work. 

And when it didn't work, they laughed. 

And I laughed. 

Because, you know what? The reversed Hierophant tells us that we only need to obey ourselves and our own hearts. 

This Hierophant, this King of the Woods, was reversed so drastically that his crown fell right off, and disappeared. 

What could be more delightful than that? 

Remember to laugh, this week. Remember to listen to yourself. You have wisdom within yourself. 

But it's not so great that you shouldn't be able to laugh at yourself now and then. 

Pleasant dreams, my friends. 

Goodnight. 

[Eerie theme music]

(Host speaks out of character, as Kristen:)

Hello everyone, and thank you once again for tuning in to this week's episode of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is Kristen Zaza here; I'm the writer, the podcaster, host, and creative team of one behind the show. How have you been this week? Are you sleeping well? Getting lots of rest? I need to be better about this, perhaps that's ironic...but you know, here we are.