CHAPTER 7
In the heart of the darkness, the white forest stood cold and still. Its towering trees stretched high into the night, their bare branches like skeletal arms reaching for the sky. The air was thick with silence, heavy and unbroken, as though the forest itself were holding its breath. The only movement came from the occasional gust of wind, causing the leaves to stir with a soft, almost inaudible rustle—a fleeting whisper against the oppressive stillness.
It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating, as if nothing could dare to disturb it.
Then, the quiet shattered.
A sharp, distant shriek cut through the air, followed by the sound of something moving—a rustle of branches, a brush against the leaves. The noise sliced through the calm like a blade, sending a shiver through the trees.
Silas felt it before he heard it—a shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable. A heaviness, like the stillness before a storm, pressed down on him. His heart thudded in his chest, the rapid beats echoing in his ears, but his body remained motionless, every muscle locked in place. Every instinct screamed at him to stay hidden, to remain perfectly still.
Whatever had disturbed the peace of the forest was coming toward his direction—and it wasn’t alone.
The predator’s shriek cut through the air again, this time closer. Its echo ripped through the trees, reverberating like a warning. The sound was primal—sharp, unmistakable, relentless. Its cry came in waves, rising and falling, marking its territory, staking its claim on the forest. The message was clear: It was hunting.
And it was close.
Cold sweat broke out across Silas’ skin, his body trembling with the sudden weight of fear. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, too loud and too fast to his liking. His mind raced, frantic with the thought that he might not be hidden enough. He had buried himself under a pile of leaves, hoping it would be sufficient—but now, uncertainty consumed him. There was no telling what these creatures were capable of.
He almost wished he could stop breathing entirely, just for a few minutes. But even holding his breath for a few seconds was difficult, his nerves betraying him at every turn.
Then, the predator’s scream came again, so close now that Silas felt the tremors The branch beneath him vibrated with the force of the sound, the tree itself shaking. His hands pressed desperately to his ears, but it was too late—extreme fear had already taken hold, paralyzing him, rattling him to his core.
Every instinct screamed for him to run, but there was nowhere to go.
Beneath the shadow of the tree, something stirred—slow, deliberate. A hulking figure, nearly three meters tall, hunched low against the snow-blanketed soil. Its black, oily skin gleamed, smooth and unsettling, like the surface of a fish—yet devoid of scales. Jagged spikes protruded from its elbows, knees, and shoulders, each one a grim reminder of its twisted, unnatural form. It moved on all fours, its limbs sweeping the ground with eerie grace, like a monstrous primate from a distant nightmare—too alien to fathom, too strange to believe.
If it were anyone else, curiosity might drive them to look, to understand what nightmare crawled below. But Silas never entertained the idea. He remained still, frozen. His only priority now was to make himself invisible, undetected. And in that moment, it was the best decision he could have made.
The creature's muzzle split open with a sickening, wet sound, unveiling a jagged maw lined with rows upon rows of black, gleaming teeth—razor-sharp and twitching with insatiable hunger. Another shriek erupted from its throat—loud, shrill, and deafening.
The force of the sound rattled the very branch Silas clung to, sending violent tremors through his body. His frame trembled, frozen in place, as the terror beneath him unfolded in horrific clarity. In the suffocating darkness, the creature's screech seemed to pierce the air with pinpoint precision, a harbinger of inevitable doom drawing closer.
Silas' vision blurred, his heart hammering in his ears. As the creature’s gaping maw shifted toward his hiding place, another shriek tore through the air—a sound so unbearable, so piercing, it devoured every other thought SIlas has, including his own awareness.
The world spun violently in his vision. His body faltered, a sudden weightlessness taking hold, and then Silas plummeted into the abyss. His consciousness slipped away, like the final breath of a dying man, his body surrendering completely to whatever fate awaited him in the dark.
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When Silas’s eyes flickered open, darkness enveloped him, and his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he couldn’t quite grasp where he was—his mind still clouded by the fog of unconsciousness. But as the memories of the previous day came rushing back—the shrill cries of the creature, the overwhelming terror, the bitter cold—he jolted upright, realizing with a surge of relief that he could still move his fingers. He was still alive. That meant he hadn’t been found… or perhaps something else had happened.
A flicker of hope sparked within him. It was a foolish thought, almost laughable, but Silas couldn’t shake it. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been transported back to the temple. Or at the very least, to somewhere familiar—somewhere safe.
Carefully, he peeled the leaves off his body, holding his breath as he hoped—no, prayed—that somehow, against all odds, the impossible had come true. But as the cold bite of the air greeted his face, the bitter taste of reality settled in.
He was still in the white forest.
A deep sigh escaped him, the weight of disappointment settling like a stone in his chest. There was no way out of this now.
With a reluctant breath, Silas pulled himself from his makeshift bed. Cautiously, he peered around the tree, scanning the area. The coast seemed clear, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself a brief sense of relief.
The forest was as eerily silent as ever. No shrieking creatures, no distant howls. He’d made it through the night—barely.
His stomach growled loudly, a harsh reminder that he hadn’t eaten in a full day. Though he considered searching for something to eat, doubt quickly followed. He wasn’t sure what was safe, and he certainly didn’t have the luxury of trial and error.
Instead, he unscrewed his canteen and took a long drink, trying to fill the emptiness in his stomach with water. But even that small comfort did little to mask the harsh truth. He needed food. And he needed to find someone. Before nightfall.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
If he didn’t, he’d be too weak to continue. He wasn’t foolish enough to think water alone would sustain him, and as a healer, he knew the dangers of going too long without nourishment. His body would betray him soon enough.
With that in mind, he pressed on, trekking through the endless forest. Just as he considered taking a short rest, he noticed something had changed. The snow beneath his boots began to thin, revealing patches of muddy earth.
Could it be? The thought filled him with a flicker of hope.
And then, there it was. Further ahead, the snow was thinning completely. The once-white canopy of frost gave way to a blend of brown and green. Silas inhaled deeply, the air feeling warmer despite the lingering chill that still nipped at his skin. The snow was finally giving way to solid ground.
His pace quickened, fueled by the sight before him. He pressed forward, eager to leave the cold behind. But as the snowless forest around him began to take shape, something felt... off. A strange tension hung in the air, a subtle disturbance that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The trees were taller, their trunks unlike anything he had ever seen. The leaves—dark and twisted—shuddered in the wind, as if they were alive. And the fruit hanging from the branches... it looked wrong.
I’d probably die if I eat that, he thought, his gaze lingering on a twisted fruit. It had a smooth, polished appearance, but the dark red color reminded him too much of a fruit from a storybook he’d read as a child. The one that paralyzed the prince.
Yep. No thanks.
He pushed the thought of food aside. His focus had to remain on one thing now: survival. He needed to find someone before daylight faded. There was something strange happening in the forest, and his instincts screamed that it was not safe to stay the night here.
Then, as he ventured deeper, his fears were confirmed. Strange creatures—crawling, slithering, skittering—crossed his path. Their movements were unnatural, insect-like, but Silas had never seen anything like them. Not in Solaris at least.
Am I still in Vethoria? Where the hell am I?
The whisper of rustling from the bushes to his right broke his thoughts, and he froze.
Before he could react, a creature popped out—a small, round thing with soft, light brown fur and wide, black eyes. A bunny? It looked like one, but something wasn’t right. It looked too round for a bunny.
Silas frowned. Is there a breed of bunny like this? No. Something was wrong. The absence of ears, the stillness—it wasn’t natural. If it were a normal rabbit, it would’ve bolted at the first sight of him. But this thing—this thing—just stared, its black eyes unblinking. The longer he looked at it, the more it seemed almost... cute. That’s when his stomach growled.
He couldn’t help it. His stomach twisted with hunger. The creature, round and plump, looked... harmless. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to fill his hunger.
His mouth watered as his mind drifted. He could almost smell the meat, hear the sizzle of it roasting over an open fire. His gaze sharpened as he focused on the creature, a clear intent forming in his mind.
No. It might get scared.
"Focus," he muttered, shaking himself out of his hunger-driven trance. His eyes narrowed as he moved forward, slow and deliberate, trying to remain as silent as possible. He gave a small, almost pitiful smile, hoping to appear harmless.
But as he neared, the creature’s eyes glinted—red.
Red?
Suddenly, a bone-chilling growl shattered the silence, sending ice through his veins. His heart skipped a beat and his mind screamed one word: Predator.
The growl was unmistakable, a death sentence hanging in the air like a grim omen. And he was certain the sound had come from the cute, little round thing in front of him.
Without warning, the creature before him twisted. Its soft, harmless form began to distort, expanding grotesquely. Its body stretched and contorted, and then its mouth—previously nonexistent—split open in a jagged, mocking grin, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. Its eyes, now blood-red, fixed on him with a predatory gleam.
"Damn it!" Silas cursed under his breath, his stomach twisting at the sight. That deceiving thing... He had thought it might be his lunch, but now it was looking at him as though he were its.
Without a second thought, Silas turned and ran, refusing to glance back. His legs screamed in protest, but he pushed himself harder, forcing his body to keep moving. The sound of pounding footsteps echoed behind him, and that only fueled his urgency. He couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not now.
His vision blurred, his muscles burned, but the terror in his chest pushed him forward. Every snap of a twig beneath his boots was like a whip, urging him on.
Gathering his courage, Silas risked a glance over his shoulder, and his blood ran cold. The creature—no, the nightmare—was still there. It had morphed into something monstrous, towering over him, its form coated in matted fur. Jagged bones protruded grotesquely from its twisted body, and its face... its face was an abomination. Countless eyes dotted its hideous frame, while its mouth—an incomprehensible parody of life itself—hung open in a grotesque grin.
The sight was worse than his worst nightmares. Just one glance sent a wave of nausea through him, almost making him stumble. But he forced himself to keep running.
And then, he saw a massive tree ahead with thick branches and an idea sprung in his mind. Without hesitation, he scrambled up the tree, each movement fueled by sheer desperation. His hands scraped against the rough bark, splinters digging into his fingernails, but he didn’t care. He had to get away.
When he was finally high enough to be out of the creature’s reach, Silas looked down and saw it stop at the base of the tree he had climbed.
He held his breath, praying it wouldn’t follow. But then, time seemed to freeze as it jumped, effortlessly reaching the lowest branch.
Fuck!
With no choice left, Silas climbed higher into the tree, sacrificing his boots for a better foothold. Desperate not to slip, he gripped the rough bark, and soon felt a sharp sting in his hand. He didn’t need to look to know how badly his palms were wounded; the pain was more than enough. Worse still, he had left a trail of blood on the tree.
The creature, now smelling the blood, grew more frantic, its movements erratic with hunger. It climbed higher, and Silas could feel its predatory gaze burning into him. His body trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.
He didn’t want to die.
Gathering the last of his strength, he pulled himself up, crying in sheer desperation as he prayed for something, anything, to save him. But no matter how hard he cried, nothing came. It was just him and the hungry creature, expertly climbing the tree.
That was when he felt hopeless. He battered himself for climbing the tree. He should've just kept running, but there was no time for regret now. He had nowhere to go, and there was only one way up.
So he climbed. Silas clung to the tree, pulling himself higher and glancing at the creature from time to time. It was still following him.
Suddenly, he heard a loud crack beneath him. When he peeked down, he saw the last branch the creature had stepped on snap and fall to the ground.
Unfortunately for him, the creature managed to cling to the tree.
Yet, Silas saw hope.
The creature, massive and heavy, needed thick branches to support its weight. The higher up it went, the thinner the branches became.
Realizing that, Silas didn’t waste time. He climbed higher, never stopping until he reached a branch that was only strong enough to support his weight. Then, he watched the creature with hopeful eyes, waiting for one of the branches it was stepping on to snap.
Then it happened.
The furious creature jumped to another branch, but it immediately snapped, unable to carry its weight. It tried to reach for another branch but couldn’t get a proper hold and fell. Its eyes remained fixed on Silas, still wearing its manic grin.
Seconds later, a loud thud echoed through the forest floor as the creature stopped moving. Black liquid spread out, drenching the soil beneath.
Time stood still for Silas as he watched the creature's death tens of meters below. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, his muscles giving way as the adrenaline left his system. Every nerve in his body screamed, and his heartbeat roared in his ears.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was safe.
Silas let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His body trembled, exhaustion and fear crashing over him in waves. His eyes burned with tears.
He had survived.
For now.
R E H I L I Y A