There’s something about forests that inspires awe: the chirping of birds, branches and leaves rustling in the wind, wide-spaced trees shooting for the sky, and the fresh smell of nature permeating every nick and corner of this birthplace of life.
“Well, that was a big waste of time,” Gratep says, looking around for confirmation. Your retinue of thirty or so horsemen face downwards; this isn’t their place to speak.
“Quiet, Gratep,” your eldest responds.
“What? It’s the truth.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? He’s milking us dry! We can’t just—”
You slightly kick the sides of your steed to pick up speed, further distancing you from your sons. Gratep gets the hint and drops the matter; he may be right, but such behavior is unbecoming of royalty.
You had gone to the north of Kalinland where Prince Estimor’s troops were encamped. He received you with a grand feast (which was ultimately financed by the treasury’s coffers) and even addressed you as a lower vassal would. However, despite his deferential attitude, he still declined to heed your request; his troops would not leave until he got what they came for.
“Orwein,” you say.
No response.
“Orwein?” You turn back, but he isn’t there. Gratep isn’t there either. No one is there.
You stop your horse and ride in a small circle to take in your surroundings. Everything feels…different. Absent are the beasts of the wild that once gave this place life. Even the wind has calmed. The forest is quiet. Too quiet.
Stolen novel; please report.
On all fronts, you are surrounded by majestic trees whose trunks stretch ever upward, and the further up you look, the further they seem to extend. The fragrance of vitality and earth after rain have given way to the stench of mold, rotting wood, and graveyards. The forest has changed aplenty, such that it isn’t the same one you treaded upon moments before.
Shhhhhhhh, comes a distant hiss from your left. You make to ride that way, but your steed doesn’t budge. You dismount and tie it to a tree. Then, after unsheathing your sword, you head toward the origin of the disturbance.
A short distance later, a squealing hose gallops towards you at full throttle. You roll to the right and take cover behind a tree. When the beast passes, you stand up and continue on the same path.
Minutes later, one of your men runs away from the same direction the horse came from.
“Halt!” you order. He does, long enough for you to notice the tremble in his dilated eyes. He resumes fleeing, but something yanks his legs and trips him headfirst on the ground. Unconscious, an invisible force pulls him away to where he ran from.
You don’t attempt to save him; that would leave you exposed to a sneak attack. Instead, sword gripped tightly, you follow from a distance.
Minutes of being smacked into trees and rocks later, he’s towed through and levels a cluster of bushes. You follow along and come to a clearing.
It would have been a beautiful sight, for thousands of stars lighten the sky above in all hues of color. Some are big, some tiny specks of light hidden beneath their neighbors, and some aren’t even necessarily stars, but luminous lines that hide the secrets of the cosmos. Your youngest would’ve loved to be here.
A humanoid fiend stands below this vast expanse. It is draped in a robe of pitch black, the edges of which continuously smolder into nothingness. Under its hood is a hollowed face of pale gray and eyebrowless sage green eyes. It holds a soldier, the one you were following, by the neck. Seconds later, his skin loses all color and crumbles into fine powder. A silent gale takes over, bending trees and tearing out grass; it takes the ashes of your warrior and dissipates it into the air. Nothing is left of his existence. All is quiet. The night sky is stunning.
The fiend’s head turns to you.
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You:
1) Charge the fiend. Your enchanted sword, unmatched in all of Kalinland, will make short work of this monster.
2) Hold your ground.
3) Run