Crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch.
Huuuh-sshhh, huuuh-sshhh.
The constant sound of footsteps crushing dry leaves and the rhythm of my breathing were like an unrelenting drumbeat in my ears. For days my vision was completely blocked—darkness was all I could “see.” I focused on every sound, every scent, any subtle shift in my surroundings. Even so, it was impossible to remain 100% alert the whole time.
Sometimes, my mind wandered, and in those brief moments of distraction, even the simplest noises—my own breathing or the rhythmic steps of the wolves beside me—became almost deafening. It was as if, without my sight, my other senses amplified everything around me, though not in a way I’d expected.
“Ow!” I cried out instinctively as my arm scraped hard against a low-hanging branch. The rough, cutting sensation on my skin jolted me back to the present moment.
“Pup,” I heard the familiar voice of the white wolf echo in my mind, her tone carrying a blend of impatience and encouragement.
“Don’t let your focus slip. Everything has a scent, a sound, before you can see or touch it. Feel them. The forest won’t forgive carelessness.”
I muttered under my breath, clutching my scraped arm as warmth and a dull pain pulsed where the branch had struck. “If only I could just use my sight…”
“Exactly that’s why it’s been taken from you,” she replied immediately, as though plucking the thought straight from my mind.
“You need to stop thinking like a human who sees and start thinking like a being who feels.”
I sighed and tried to refocus. I adjusted my stance and started moving again, this time more cautiously. I could feel the breeze on my skin, the damp scent of the earth, even the faint smell of the wolves around me.
‘Come on, Dalton,’ I thought to myself, more determined now. ‘If they can do it, so can I.’
With deliberate care, I reached out until I felt the texture of a tree branch within reach. I gripped it, tested its weight, and gave it a slight shake to check its strength.
“Not this one,” I murmured, discarding it right away.
I kept moving, each step deliberate and controlled, trying to avoid any more scrapes or stumbles that would only add to my frustration. I found another branch.
“Not this one either.”
I repeated the process several times as we walked, each attempt accompanied by a frustrated murmur or a heavy sigh as I tried to ignore the sting of the small cuts and scratches on my arms.
Finally, my fingers touched something promising.
“This one’ll do,” I muttered, a faint note of satisfaction slipping into my voice. I pressed down firmly on a spot on the branch, testing its flexibility before gripping it with both hands and applying pressure. The snap echoed as it broke cleanly in my grasp.
Without wasting a moment, I focused, drawing mana from the earth around me.
— “Harden” — I whispered, channeling magic into the branch. I felt it transform in my hands, becoming sturdier, more resilient, more reliable. A small smile crept across my lips as I swung the branch lightly through the air, testing its strength and durability.
“Not bad,” I murmured to myself, spinning it lightly between my fingers before gripping it firmly. It was long enough to serve as a guiding staff, an extension of my body that would help me navigate through this forced darkness.
----------------------------------------
“We’ll stop here for the night,” declared the white wolf, her voice carrying an air of finality.
I couldn’t see her, but I felt the weight of exhaustion settling heavily on my shoulders—a clear sign that it was already late. We had been walking for hours, and my body was crying out for rest.
As I settled down, the presence of the wolves surrounding me brought a sense of security. The soothing sound of a nearby waterfall reached my ears, its cascading water blending harmoniously with the rustling of leaves in the wind and the occasional distant howl of a packmate.
The breeze carried a fresh, clean scent mixed with the earthy aroma of the forest. I reached out to touch the ground around me, feeling the soft, cool moss beneath my fingers. Carefully, I sat down, leaning my weight onto the newly transformed staff.
“This’ll do for now,” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. The darkness behind my blindfold no longer felt as oppressive as it had before, and the tranquility of the moment began to ease the tension I had been holding onto.
As the wolves settled around me, the rhythmic sound of paws moving through grass reached my ears—measured and calm. I felt the warmth of a small body pressing against my leg. The golden-eyed pup had curled up there, just as he often did. A soft smile found its way to my lips as my hand instinctively reached out, stroking his soft fur in a gesture that was automatic, almost subconscious.
“Always you, isn’t it?” I murmured, my voice low, as if I were speaking to an old friend.
But before I could settle completely, a different warmth—larger, firmer—pressed against my back. Something soft and warm encircled me, providing unexpected support.
“You too?” I asked, though I already knew who it was. The presence was unmistakable: Dr. Wolf, the largest wolf in the pack, second only to the white wolf. His weight and warmth were as familiar as they were reassuring. He was my guide wolf, the one who stayed by my side while I wore the blindfold.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Dr. Wolf let out a low sound, almost a growl, but there was no menace in it.
I exhaled deeply, allowing my body to relax as I leaned back against him. The texture of his fur was soft and warm, an almost indescribable comfort that felt as though it seeped straight into my bones.
“I could get used to this,” I murmured, my voice barely audible, swallowed by the peacefulness surrounding me.
The pup by my leg let out a soft noise, a satisfied little sigh, before settling deeper against me. In the distance, the occasional howls of the other wolves echoed through the forest, mingling with the steady rush of water from the nearby waterfall.
Despite the trials still waiting for me, a deep sense of belonging began to take root. I didn’t know how this test would end, but the path ahead no longer felt as lonely as I once thought it would be.
----------------------------------------
The night in the Black Forest was suffocating, cloaked in a darkness so thick it almost felt alive. The air carried the damp scent of earth and decay, and the wind seemed hesitant to pass through the ancient trees, as if it feared the secrets they held.
“Are you certain this is the last spot?” The man’s low, drawling voice cut through the silence like a blade. He was leaning casually against a gnarled tree, his black hood concealing most of his face. But not enough to hide his marble-pale skin or the blood-red eyes that gleamed with an eerie, otherworldly light.
His posture seemed relaxed, but the atmosphere around him pulsed with an oppressive, unspoken power.
“Y-y-yes! D-don’t worry!” The boy stammered, his voice trembling with fear. He struggled to maintain his balance as he clutched a small, rolled-up parchment in his bony, shaking hands. His grip was so tight it seemed as though he feared the object might vanish if he loosened it even slightly.
His golden eyes, which might have been charming under different circumstances, now seemed dimmed under the crushing weight of pressure. He was thin, almost frail, and his disheveled black hair appeared even messier under the pale moonlight. The contrast in presence between the two figures was stark, almost cruel.
“My brother said there are only four points to form the first layer of the seal,” he continued, speaking quickly, as if hoping his words might diffuse the growing tension. “We’ve already dealt with the other three... only this one is left.”
His nervousness was palpable. The way he avoided looking directly at the man made it clear he knew exactly what kind of monster he was dealing with.
The man let out a low sound—something between a chuckle and a scoff—but it held no trace of humor. He tilted his head slightly upward, revealing more of his severe, almost otherworldly features.
“‘We’ve dealt with them?’” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Every word felt heavier than the last.
Before the boy could answer, an oppressive wave of killing intent radiated from the man. It wasn’t just a sense of danger—it was as if he were being smothered by pure terror. The boy stumbled backward, nearly collapsing, his legs visibly trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.
“You talk as if you’ve done more than shake like a leaf in the wind,” the man said, his tone sharp enough to cut.
“F-forgive me!” the boy stammered, bowing deeply in a frantic, desperate gesture.
“Your Excellency handled the other three points.”
The forest around them seemed to respond to the tension. The leaves rustled uneasily, though there was no wind. Faint, indistinct sounds echoed from the shadows, as if the darkness itself was alive.
“Darius, stop tormenting the boy,” a deep, almost guttural voice echoed from the shadows. The sound momentarily shattered the oppressive atmosphere. The boy turned toward the source, his golden eyes shining with a mix of hope and fear.
From the depths of the forest, heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by the rustling of bushes being pushed aside. A towering man emerged, each step solid enough to make the ground beneath him tremble slightly. He wore no hood, revealing long, unkempt hair and a full beard that stretched down to his neck. His arms, covered in thick, dark hair, were as muscular as the tree trunks around them.
His deep black eyes locked onto Darius’s blood-red ones. There was something feral in his stance, a primal energy barely restrained beneath the surface. Yet despite this raw presence, he radiated a strange calm, as though the forest itself bent to his will.
“Never late, are you, Warwick?” Darius remarked, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the man. His tone carried a hint of sarcasm but also a subtle undercurrent of respect.
“Unlike you, Darius, I understand the importance of being punctual—especially when dealing with… delicate matters.” Warwick let out a low sound, a cross between a chuckle and a growl.
Warwick stepped forward, his heavy boots sinking slightly into the damp forest floor. In one swift, deliberate motion, he hurled something into the space between himself and Darius.
The boy, who had been watching their exchange nervously, barely had time to react.
“What?!” he gasped, throwing himself to the side in a clumsy roll to avoid the object that sailed past his shoulder.
The dull thud of impact echoed through the clearing as the object hit the ground and rolled several times before coming to a stop. Wide-eyed, the boy stared at it, his stomach churning as the realization hit him.
It was a body.
The pale face of a man wearing the crest of the Dracknum family on his leather armor reflected faintly in the moonlight. His lifeless eyes stared blankly into the distance, frozen in the terror of his final moments. His limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, as though they’d been broken deliberately, and a pool of blood was slowly spreading beneath him, staining the dark forest floor.
“You killed a Dracknum guard?!” Darius’s voice erupted, a mix of disbelief and fury. He stepped forward, his expression seething with anger as a vein pulsed visibly on his temple.
“Are you insane?!”
Warwick crossed his arms, his gaze steady and unbothered as he replied in a dry tone:
“He saw me while I was planting the items.” He shrugged, as if that explanation alone justified everything.
“Those types like to stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
Darius clenched his fists, visibly struggling to keep his composure.
“What part of ‘stealth’ don’t you understand?!” he barked, gesturing sharply at the lifeless body on the ground, his face contorted with frustration.
“For fuck’s sake, Warwick! This is going to draw attention to us. If someone finds that body before we’re finished…”
Warwick interrupted, his voice deep but steady: “I had no other choice.”
The air between the two men seemed charged with electricity, the tension rising with each passing second. The boy, still on the ground, tried to inch away from the body, but his movements were stiff, the grotesque sight burned into his mind.
“Tsk,” Darius hissed, abruptly turning away, his crimson eyes glowing in the moonlight. He took a deep breath, clearly irritated but trying to maintain his composure.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s move quickly and get out of here before this turns into a bigger problem.”
He turned to the boy, pointing at him with a sharp, impatient gesture. “Boy, begin.”
The boy hesitated for a moment, but as he felt the piercing gaze of Darius and the overwhelming presence of Warwick, he swallowed hard, mustering every ounce of courage he had. With trembling hands, he got to his feet and unrolled the parchment in his grasp.