The winding snake of red and yellow slithered through the undergrowth, appearing and disappearing beneath the dense umbrellas of countless leaves attached to wooden trunks. At the head of the column, a shimmering silver tongue slid in and out, cutting through the vegetation. But the terrain was treacherous and alien, with vines and twigs alike reaching into the gaps between their armour and clothing, retching out pieces of cloth with every step.

However, unperturbed, the soldiers marched on. Each step is steady and methodical like the previous one. Their pale faces were void of any signs of perspiration. Not the slightest drop of clear liquid dribbling down their cheek, nor the damp patches beneath their armpits.

The snake refused to stop, its destination, the horizon. The titanic length and breadth of the beast left no room for confrontation, nor any contest for dominance. Its silence was a weapon that forced even the most foolhardy of beasts to cower and shelter in the catacombs beneath the giant trees.

Destruction was left in their wake. The ground was flat and even, paved with the mushy remains of the natural weeds and grass that had

once called the land home. The bushes were severed in two, with the outward half a pattern of white stumps and a tearful of green splattered beneath it.

Cyrus grimaced as his eyes scanned across his old trusty friend, unable to find any vestige of comfort in its beauty and attention to detail.

The forests were drawn immaculately with simple strokes of a brush, mountains an angled scalene triangle topped with a cap of white. Thin but bold black lines separated the landmass into different territories, with the names inscribed cursively in the centre.

Under normal circumstances, the centurion would've been bursting with joy and awe at the detail on this map and the preciseness of which he can deploy his troops based on the local landmarks. The control over the terrain on which battles were fought. It was every commander's dream.

The map out shows the Roman ones like the Sun compared to a candle. Looking back, the Roman charts were nothing more than a child's miserable attempts at drawing shapes.

What the cartographers were doing while supposedly scouting about on horseback, Cyrus had no clue. But it wasn't his place to question the traditions that have been in existence since the dawn of the republic.

Putting aside the wonders of this world's scouting ability, the Roman was faced with a massive dilemma. Several dots and lines had been haphazardously arranged in the forest area in which the army currently resided. All had been scribbled out or overlayed with a cross.

The centurion had no clue where they were.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Sighing in resignation, folded up the piece of paper and gently placed it into the satchel. Cyrus turned to look at his second-in-command.

He opened his mouth, only to be cut off immediately.

Shaylah replied in annoyance, "No, I can't teach you the pathfinding spell, it is an inherent trait and you don't have enough talent. And yes, we are going the right way."

Resigned to his fate, the Roman grumbled and turned away. The feeling of control leaving one's grasp was a nauseating one that even the most hardened generals fear. The sensation can be described as dumping a cold bucket of water down one's back.

The experienced veteran had expended all efforts in attempting to divine their location, from navigating to the stars to sending out scouts. The stars were utterly foreign. The scouts never returned.

The legion's fate was in the fairy's hands.

Without a pause, the rows upon rows of soldiers marched. Like lost souls, they moved in the direction towards the invisible promise of heaven that was at the end of Shaylah's pointing finger.

The sun slowly drifted down, sinking into the horizon. As the last vestiges of the pink rays faded into darkness, a silver crest rose into the air.

Under the watchful gaze of the moon, the red and yellow predator prowled for its target.

The soft thumps of marching feet lasted all night long, silencing the hissing and buzzing of insects and calls of night animals.

On and on, the ground trembled, never ceasing.

Another night. Another day.

On the 3rd night since the beginning of the expedition, the great beast stopped. It began shedding as triangular prisms of white covered its entire length, renewing its strength. The red and yellow skin folded in and out as silver dots along its length moved in and out of the perimeter at regular intervals.

As the forest leaves were painted in a spectacular mix of red and orange, the vestiges of the dried flaky skin can be seen in a small, strippy pattern. The silver spots receded back into their normal positions.

The ground groaned once more as its sore flesh was trod upon once more.

Once again, the massive red and yellow beast, now specked with white, slid onwards.

Gradually but surely, the forest grew less compacted. Less like the stands of the Colosseum during a gladiatorial bout and more towards the red-light district in Rome after dark.

Trees still provided its ever-critical shade for travellers. The bushes remained as spiky and irritating as ever. But their overall numbers had been decreasing at a linear rate.

Their river-like clearage had met up with small, thin tracks, littered with drag marks, old blood stains and footprints. Clumps of fur lay wrapped around protruding twigs and stems.

Civilization was near.

The once-permanent grimace on Cyrus's face melted away like snow on the first day of Spring. Nodding appreciatively at the second-in-command, Cyrus maneuvered his troops into blocks in preparation for the open field ahead. That is if the map's contents were true.

While the roman was appreciative of all of the details, the actual accuracy and reliability of the map have yet to be seen.

With the bellow of horns, the legions slowly advanced through the last hundred meters.

The trees were arranged in sparser and sparser positions. Now great chunks of open space, devoid of shrubs and bushes were scattered across the tree line. After a few tense minutes, the gaps between trees changed scenery. No longer was there merely dark green or brown, but large blank spaces of blue and green.

Within a couple more steps, the legion passed the final line of trees. Their curved branches raised, waving goodbye.

An endless grassland spread into the horizon.

Cyrus closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the Sun saturate every fibre of his being.

Their journey was just beginning.