1 of 7 R3TURN3D

The ringing… The incessant ringing… Relentless ringing, ringing, in my ears, in my head… It vibrates through my bones, it jars my teeth and locks my jaw… The ringing… The perpetual ringing of death…

My first impression of her was one of awe. Draped in velvet and fur, jewels dripping from her ears and neck, she looked down at me - not in disgust, or revulsion, as so many of the Royals did at the folk in the sticks, but with interest. I wonder if our paths had not crossed in that way, if she had never invited me to her Kingdom, if I would ever have heard the ringing of the bells. My face must have been such a sight to see when first heard them toll, for she took me to the Tower and let me sit and watch them ring the bells.

They were not just any bells, she explained. They drew in spirits, good and bad, that swirled within the bell. When it was rung, the good spirits were sent throughout the town, and the evil fell to a place where they could not bring any misfortune upon the Kingdom. “There is much evil in this world,” she told me, “Evil often outweighs good. The bells must be rung every hour, or the evil will collect, and fester, and the town will start to rot under its influence.” She would allow me to sit in the Tower every day, to hear the bells, and to see the good they would grant the town. On my thirteenth birthday, she granted me the greatest honour I could have dreamt: I was to be the V3SP3R. I was to ring the bells.

Then, she was dead. It was a fever, they said, that overcame her. The Prince who came next thought nothing of the bells, thought nothing of their lore. He loudly and openly criticised his predecessor for her belief in them, and announced that they would no longer be ringing, for they were offputting during his dinner hours and upsetting his sleep.

It started at the Tower. The stones began to crumble, and thorny vines strangled the roof. Then, water started to turn bad, and subjects started dropping like flies. Livestock died and crops wilted, children screamed and dogs howled. The Kingdom started to rot. I knew what must be done. I climbed the tower. I could not believe the ruin that had come over the bells. They dripped in murk and black rust, swaying cracked and decaying in the wind. The tongue of the bell seemed to squirm and writhe under the evil that lived within. The blessing had turned to a curse... I lunged towards the bell. The decay clawed it’s hooks in to my feet, smothering me and pulling me down with it. If it was to fall, so must I.

I fell. The bells chimed. And the whispers of darkness rang in my ear. I made my way here, dragging the bells with me. It was a pilgrimage of types. He gave me a home to hide the bells, to ensure the darkness there never returned. He set me down here, and here I have stayed. The ringer of bells. The P17GR1M of V3SP3R.