CHAPTER 8

After taking a few minutes to rest, Silas ventured into the forest once more. This time, however, he was more cautious. His eyes scanned every direction, alert for any creatures that might emerge from the shadows. Each step was slower, more deliberate, as exhaustion began to weigh heavily on him.

He had already encountered another monster—and thankfully, he had managed to hide and climb a tree just in time. This time, though, he was more resolute. His eyes never left the creature, studying its every movement, measuring its size and speed.

He quickly realized this monster was unlike the first. While its appearance was slightly less terrifying, its size was staggering. Horns sprouted from several places on its body, a clear reminder that, despite its less intimidating form, it was far more dangerous than the first.

Silas did well to evade its senses, and after what seemed like an eternity, the creature finally passed. He remained hidden, waiting until it was safe to continue. But even then, he wandered aimlessly, unsure if he was heading in the right direction. He could only hope that his bad luck wouldn’t lead him to starve.

Minutes later, Silas noticed the light around him dimming. It was as if the sun was sinking below the horizon, and night was quickly approaching. Desperation and frustration tightened around him, gnawing at his resolve.

His hunger and fatigue were taking their toll. His legs felt like dead weight beneath him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he suddenly lost consciousness—after all, the day had already been far too much to bear.

Just when he thought he couldn’t go any further, the sound of rustling broke through the fog of exhaustion. His adrenaline spiked instantly, and his body tensed. He twisted toward the noise.

"Ha!!"

Silas froze, his heart leaping into his throat. To his right stood an old woman. Her wide, shocked brown eyes locked onto his. She wore a thick green coat made from an unfamiliar material, and a white bandana was tied around her curly grey hair. Despite her age, she stood tall, her presence strong and commanding.

What struck Silas most, however, was her features and skin tone. Her pale complexion, untouched by the sun, gave her an ethereal quality. Her sharp features like her pointy nose and shaped jaw seemed foreign, not like any province he had seen, even among the nobility. And there was something almost unnatural about her skin—a glow that no fine lines, age, or wear could conceal.

Though he had seen nobles before, this woman was different. A brief glance at her pointed ears made it clear she wasn’t just a human. If she told him she was an elf, he would have believed it instantly.

But that couldn’t be right. Elves had been extinct for ages, and they were notorious for their aloofness and grumpy attitude toward humans.

Still, the fact remained that Silas had finally encountered another being in this strange land.

"Hello," he called out, but the woman didn’t respond. She merely stared at him, confusion and wariness flickering in her eyes.

Thinking she hadn’t heard him, Silas took a cautious step closer. But before he could move any further, she reached behind her, pulling something from her back. Silas' heart skipped a beat when he saw a curved blade pointed at him.

He quickly realized how odd he must look with his makeshift cloak, and with both hands raised in a peaceful gesture, he gave her a small, reassuring smile. He had no intention of appearing threatening. The last thing he needed was to be stabbed.

“I understand how surprising I must look right now,” he said, his voice steady, “but I need some help. I don’t mean any harm. Could you please help me?”

The old woman remained silent, her gaze unwavering, still fixated on him. After a long, tense moment, she parted her lips and spoke.

“ohweth lleheraouy!”

Silas blinked, struggling to make sense of the strange words. His tired mind raced, trying to process them.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Sorry?” he asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly, his exhaustion muddling his senses.

“tahwera uoyyingas.”

No, he wasn’t imagining it. The woman was speaking a language he couldn’t understand. The realization hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

He wasn’t in the Empire anymore.

Silas had heard many languages during his time in the Empire’s vast territories. But this—this was entirely different. In the Empire, only Vorenthian was spoken. Regional accents existed, yes, but there was no other language.

So, what was this language?

An unsettling thought crept into his mind: was there a hidden tribe in the North that no one knew about?

Though the possibility that he might be outside the Empire had crossed his mind before, it now felt more likely that there was an unknown group within the Empire’s borders—rather than the absurd notion that he had somehow been transported far from everything he knew.

But now, Silas was sure of it. He wasn’t in Vorenthia anymore.

He tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, the weight of the realization sinking in. This old woman, speaking words he couldn’t understand, was standing right in front of him.

As her frown deepened, Silas quickly reminded himself of the most pressing matter at hand—he needed help. If he wanted to survive in this strange land, with its foreign language and unfamiliar people, he would have to adapt. He needed to appear as harmless as possible.

Silas gave her another small smile, then pointed to his mouth and shook his head. He wasn’t sure how she would interpret the gesture, but he hoped she would understand that he couldn’t speak her language.

For a moment, the woman stared at him with a perplexed expression, then paused. Seizing the opportunity, Silas pressed his palms together in front of his chest, just below his chin, a universal gesture of pleading. He tried to look as pitiful as he could—like a lost puppy, hoping for mercy.

The woman’s expression shifted. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her lips parted in awe.

A few moments passed, then, with a skeptical nod, she turned and began walking away. Silas, still cautious, followed her at a distance. If he were in a different situation, he would never follow a stranger, especially one with a knife—an odd weapon, crude and unfinished, more like a farming tool than an instrument of defense. Had she swung it at him, it could have killed him.

But then again, he reasoned, it was better to stick with a human than risk encountering one of the grotesque, mindless monsters that roamed the forest. At least humans had reason.

Still, every step he took kept him on high alert. He watched her carefully, keeping his eyes sharp. Every time she used her knife to cut through branches, Silas flinched, his nerves on edge. Despite the lack of hostility, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just as confused about him as he was about her.

She glanced back at him, her brow furrowing even further, likely wondering how he had ended up so lost in this strange forest. News to her: Silas had no idea either.

In the blink of an eye, he had been transported to a strange, snowy field, wearing nothing but large leaves, looking every bit like a bewildered traveler. Was it some elaborate joke? Could this all be some kind of trick? But no—there was no way the staff could have used Aura without a wielder. Aura required willpower. Someone had intentionally brought him here. But who?

Questions piled up in his mind, each one more frustrating than the last. He didn’t have answers yet, but he was determined to find out who had done this to him—and he would make them regret it.

As the minutes turned into hours, the woman continued on without slowing. Silas even wondered if she was lost too, wandering the forest aimlessly. Yet, her pace remained steady, as if she had known these woods her entire life.

What troubled him more, though, was the complete absence of monsters. It seemed as though they were moving deeper into the forest, not out. The trees grew taller and closer together, yet the air felt lighter, the atmosphere unexpectedly peaceful.

But Silas didn’t let his guard down. He couldn’t afford to, even if the woman no longer seemed interested in wielding her knife against him. She could be leading him into a trap. Who would trust a stranger in a place like this?

Despite the wariness, he reminded himself that it was better to follow her than remain alone in the wilderness. After all, humans, however strange, were less dangerous than the creatures that roamed the woods.

Exhaustion slowly overtook him, his legs threatening to give way. Just when he thought he couldn’t go any further, the woman suddenly stopped and turned back toward him. Panting heavily, Silas looked up at her, wondering why she had paused.

She spoke another string of unfamiliar words and gestured ahead. Silas followed her gaze, and his eyes widened in shock.

Ahead of them lay a town—suspended high in the trees. The houses were intricately carved from wood and leaves, perched atop the massive branches. Wooden walkways connected the homes, some even carved directly into the trunks. The entire place looked magnificent—an astonishing work of nature and craftsmanship.

Silas couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. It was hard to believe such a place could exist, surrounded by monsters. But now, he had his answer.

And there were people—many people. Some traveled between trees on hanging bridges, while others floated gracefully, standing on large leaves that glided effortlessly through the air.

Before Silas could speak, the woman snapped him out of his daze, speaking again in a language he couldn’t understand as she began walking toward the town. As they drew closer, several figures suddenly descended from above, landing in a circle around them. Armed with wooden spears tipped with strange white blades, they eyed him with suspicion.

"tlah! Owhsitaht htiwuoy? dnarg Leona?"

R E H I L I Y A