In the early morning of the outskirts of the Ethereal Highland, the sun shimmered brightly on the trees as their leaves shake and stir from the breeze. The forest was alive and lively as it usually was.
The vibrant and fresh sun rays illuminated the trees along with their vivacious colours that cast a kaleidoscope of hues over the land.
A soft melody of invisible birds filled the air accompanied by a breathe of wind passing through the open field. The forest floor is painted in a beautiful array of colors, creating a vivid landscape with the luminescent dust that is scattered by tiny elf-like spirits.
As they flit about, their translucent wings sparkle from the light filtering down through the trees, creating a truly magical and enchanting atmosphere.
The creatures dance with vigour in the air, filling it with their melodious tune that can be heard from miles away. Even watching from afar, the beauty and charm of the little creatures are intoxicating.
One of the pixies was gleaming from its bright blue hue as it decided to rest her gossamer wings after fluttering about, creating illusions to lead some travelers astray.
A laugh escapes the pixie's lips—a sharp and mischievous one as she recalls the fear-stricken expressions of the travelers when they had fallen for her tricks. Foolish mortals.
Her giggle of amusement sounded like that of chiming bells, ringing through the air as she relished in the memory of their reaction to her mischief. The spirit had settled down on a nearby branch, its body glistening in the sunlight as she took in the warmth.
As the other little pixies happily dance in the air, she gave a soft sigh of contentment, taking in the beauty of their surroundings.
It is such a pleasant day for a soiree, after all.
The pixie's thoughts were quickly dismissed as the rumble of the ground disturbed her tranquility. Even though she squeezed her eyes shut, a frown had creased her brow as she tried to discern whether there was danger or not. However, she quickly shrug it off as if not wanting to worry too much.
..
..
The rumble came again, but this time with more force. This time, every being could feel it permeating in their very surroundings. The pixie felt her saxe-blue hair disheveled and an annoyed look surfaced on her face as her eyes snap wide open.
This is getting annoying.
"Who is causing trouble this time?" She mumbled to herself, a slight air of annoyance and anger replaced her previous tranquil demeanor. She wondered who or what could have caused this sudden commotion.
The rumbling suddenly grew more powerful—almost as if an earthquake were about to occur. The pixie's body was rattled and shaken by the movement, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden change in the atmosphere.
Some of them fly off in different directions, desperately trying to locate the source of the rumbling. However, in their panic and haste, they end up smacking right into each other in the air while some flew off into the foliage.
A thick, deathly silence suddenly fell upon the forest after the earthquake stopped, blanketing the scene with an almost surreal ambiance. The sounds of the tiny pixies fluttering around seemed to be the only remnant of the chaos that had just unfolded.
It was as though a foreboding presence had enveloped the area, casting a sinister shadow over the once-vibrant and alive forest. The pixies all shared a glance at one another as if natural instinct, they all knew what must be done next—they must inspect the Selva Oscura.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
----------------------------------------
Selva Oscura is known as a cursed land, both by mortals and magical creatures. It had an enchanting appearance—almost like a whimsical fairytale land, luring in those who came in search of safety and refuge.
However, the mycelial boundary that had grown only in a certain footage was enough to fuel numerous tales and postulation about the existence of that specific forestland.
No one could really say for certain what sort of twisted and tormented creature might lurk within the depths of the haunted forest. The ghostly silence that surrounded it was enough to scare away even the stoutest of hearts.
It was long believed that the growth of fungi along the border of the forest was an enchanted circle, cast by the woods themselves in order to ward off any potential threats to the life hidden within.
It was also said that one must never trespass past this mystical border—for fear of angering the powerful spirits who resided deep within the forest was a fate worse than death.
The pixies had organised a soiree near the border between the two forests—Foolish as it was, they knew the limits. They gathered near the edge to witness what had quickly started to appear to be a disturbing scene.
—
At a clearing just near the edge, a mysterious blotch of black ink inexplicably began to rise from the ground. The ink spread like a stain— seeping and covering the grass along with all the life around it, draining any and all colour from the surrounding area.
It quickly began to spread and move closer to the other side of the forest itself. The trees and branches were seemingly sapped of their vitality—their leaves and branches were consumed by the corrosive stain before shriveling up and turning pitch black.
The pixies kept their distance, reluctant to risk their lives by approaching the area where darkness had overtaken the ground. Even from some distance, they could see that an ominous hand burst out from the middle of the shadowy pool.
Its fingers were tipped with a dark, inky black—with a network of darkened indigo veins branching all over its arms and spreading outwards.
The blue-haired pixie was barely able to comprehend what was happening before the ink-black hand began to frantically claw its way to freedom. Most of the tiny spirits were now gathered at the edge of the barrier, watching with wide-eyes as the hand continued to claw at the dirt with determination.
The pixies remained motionless as they watched at a safe distance from the impending danger—if it is even one. They had not yet realised what sort of threat this ominous hand could pose to them.
A few minutes passed by.
There was something strangely fascinating about the hand and its incessant attempts at freeing itself.
After what felt like hours, a thin and slender figure finally emerged from the contaminated ground. Their long white hair was now covered with remnants of debris and had been transformed into a shadowy charcoal-like substance.
Their pale white skin was half submerged in the pool of dark ink that had spread out from the ground, leaving half of their body covered in the ominous and shadowy substance.
They remained motionless, appearing to be almost dormant.
The sight of the emerging figure was quite unnerving as the spidery splotch on the ground extended further. The fresh color of greenery had been quickly transformed into a lifeless and dull pool of ebon, slowly becoming a lifeless and barren landscape.
There was a growing sense of uneasiness as the lurid sight continued to unfold, the pixies watched with concern as the morass of rich, black earth grew larger.
But what sat in the middle of the withering foliage was a stunning young woman, her eyes gleaming bright as amethysts under the sun. The light that cast over those jewels revealed a slight hint of a bluish-red hue—which only served to accent their beauty even further.
Her gaze wandered around with uncertainty, as though she were assessing the situation and evaluating her surroundings. The pixies could not help but be fascinated by the woman's sudden appearance, albeit with a slight touch of reservation to her intentions.
The figure then stands up from the ground underfoot, the air of menace and malice that is radiating from her somehow becoming even more palpable.
Dressed only in a simple white cloth with no accessories or decorative details, the figure had a simplistic appearance to her.
In stark contrast to the rest of the dress, the bottom seemed like it had already become tainted with darkness, a deep ink black. Even though the dress was slightly bigger and longer, it seemed to hug the figure's curves in all the right places—flowing gracefully over her body and causing the dress to trail and drag the dead grass beneath it.
As if death itself was still clinging to her—the veins had continued to stretch from her fingers towards her arm, and the tips of her ivory hair were now tinged with the ink-like substance.
She begins to make her way towards the now-frightened and panicked pixies.