A thick, nearly impassable highland forest stretched all the way to the northernmost extremity of the Great Ravine, which was only three days south as the bird flies.

Tall, gargantuan pines standing over a hundred feet in the air towered above the mountains. The trunks were so massive that a full-grown man could stand with his arms stretched wide and never be able to curl his fingers to the other side.

Men could spend days weaving through such a forest and never be able see more than a trickle of sunlight to lift their spirits. Many had tried and eventually found themselves hopelessly lost within, never to be seen again.

Vast multitudes of living things could be found throughout, but not along the forest floor. Only the types of creatures weary travelers could never hope to survive were found there.

Most creatures lived a slow, meager existence in the canopies above, or flit from branch to branch with the utmost care, for a single mistake would send them plummeting to the abyss below, where those starving scavengers in the dark would slink from shadow to shadow, desperately trying not to attract attention from any of the truly terrifying monstrosities that thrived there.

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“Kalos, could ya help the missus gather water for today?”

The ancient, soft-spoken man would always request such things with the utmost humility. In truth, fetching water was far too easy a task for him to accomplish, but no matter how much he insisted, the old man refused to let him do anything more strenuous. Even such a simple task as fishing had been a difficult privilege to earn, and the old man’s wife rarely allowed it. They didn’t want him doing anything in his condition.

The old man and his wife took great pride in completing hard work despite their exceedingly great age. In truth, Kalos didn’t know how old they actually were, but he was convinced they were at least as old as the trees themselves, judging by their exceedingly wrinkled appearance and slow manner of speech.

After returning from the well with a bucket of delicious, clear water in-hand, he carefully set it beside the hearth.

The sweet, elderly lady who was beginning to grind wheat into flour for dinner thanked him profusely.

His eyes lit up, “Shall I fetch some fish for dinner, then?” It was worth a shot, at least.

“It’s alright, son. We’ll have crisp fowl and valley greens tonight. You go rest-up by the creek, now,” she gently replied as she continued working the grains into finely ground powder with her large pestle at her steady, methodical pace. She watched him with that signature, motherly smile of hers that made him yield to her wishes without another word. She never seemed to ask anything more than a pail of water from him, as well.

Kalos took a step back, nearly wincing as he twisted too far the wrong way. He was still injured and covered in bruises even after letting his body to heal for at least three weeks. He had come to understand at least one thing as a result of the incredibly long period of healing he had endured so far, and that one thing was that being run through with a sword was something he never wanted to experience again.

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The young man turned so that his overly protective hostess wouldn’t catch sight of the perspiration suddenly coating his forehead before slowly making his way outside. He gazed out over the large field that surrounded the couple’s peaceful cottage by the forest and tried to make sense of a few more of those jumbled thoughts that had been haunting him for days.

In the distance, a vast expanse of unnaturally tall trees and unfamiliar mountains peaked over the canopy surrounding their land. The cottage rested near the edge of a forest so dark that it almost looked like dusk all hours of the day. He had often imagined just how dark the forest must get at night, but it always made him uneasy to think about it for too long.

So far he’d been unable to figure out exactly where he was in relation to home, but he had at least learned the name of the nearest village from the old man, several days ago.

Memories from that very first day flooded his mind as he stood basking in the sunlight and admiring the view.

He remembered lying in the middle of a frozen field at least a hundred paces from the man’s house, beside a small knoll. If he’d been there much longer, he would’ve surely died from the cold, especially considering how much blood he lost the night before.

The old man had assumed that he was attacked while traveling through the “Great Norwood,” as he called it. Perhaps some wild beast had nearly torn him to shreds, but he somehow managed to escape with his life before collapsing in their field. The old man’s theory made sense, but he couldn’t remember much before that, so there was no way for him to be sure about what happened at all.

All that seemed to matter to them was that he had survived, and that healing would take a long time. They’d gone to great lengths to take care of him without asking for anything in return other than pails of water on a daily basis. It was the least he could do.

Kalos slowly walked to his favorite spot beside the brook before taking a seat in the cool, soft grass. To his left was a white-stone path leading across the water by an old, stone bridge nearly as ancient-looking as the couple, which turned into a small forest trail at the end of the meadow.

He wasn’t sure where the trail led, but the old man had once told him that it eventually merged with a path that would take him all the way to the nearby village of “Nortress” when he was ready. For them, “nearby” translated to nearly a three days’ journey by foot.

Only recently had he grown strong enough to walk from the house to the water and back without becoming completely exhausted, so making it to the village had simply remained an impossible task for him to accomplish since waking up.

After taxing his mind to try and assess logically how much longer he would have to stay with the old man and his wife before being strong enough to leave on his own, he decided that laying back to rest near the brook was a good idea after all.

Within seconds he fell into a deep sleep while his body continued absorbing all the nutrients it could from the sun’s rays. For the first time in days, dreams about some of the things he had gone through grew vivid in his mind.

Nava’s expression changed from joy to sorrow as tears glistened down her cheeks. Grimm’s countenance during the night of the battle appeared for only a moment before turning away to continue fighting without him. Doogin stared into the fire, never looking toward him at all as they sat beside one other. Sadness started creeping into his mind.

Suddenly everything changed. He was lying on the ground in the meadow near the old couple’s house again, but the weather felt more pleasant than he remembered, somehow. He noticed a tall, bright figure standing just past the bridge over the brook, watching him sleep. The sun made it difficult for Kalos to see the stranger’s face.

A mighty voice resonated from him, reverberating deep in his soul, “Soon you will know who I am, you will learn who you shall be, and you will rise against the darkness that has begun.

“Awaken Child, for your time has come.”

©2024, K. M. Plum, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED