Chapter 1:

“Omia!” She heard her mother exclaim. “Goodness, where did you get that?”

Omia heard her, but she didn’t understand the words quite yet. She was only eight months old, and had just barely learned to crawl.

She did understand that her mother was coming to take her shiny new toy though, and her hand tightened around the light brown part of it. She knew not to touch the silvery bit of it.

Despite her grip on the toy, her mothers was much stronger, and she gingerly pried Omia’s hand away. Omia, of course, started crying the moment her toy was away from her. It was more than just losing the object, she felt… less safe without it.

“I swear,” her mother said, “I’ve no idea how you get your hands on your fathers blades so easily, and he needs to learn to put them up! This is the third time since you’ve started crawling. You’re going to hurt yourself!”

If Omia could understand her, she would have opposed her mothers claims. She’d never hurt herself on one. They were just objects, they couldn’t cut her without her touching the blade first. More than that, she felt she needed to hold one for… some reason. She just liked them!

Despite her crying though, her mother did not give the dagger back. All Omia did was tire herself out and fall asleep.

The years went by, and Omia’s parents learned of their child's odd obsession with blades. More than that, she was weirdly capable of discerning dangerous from harmless. Omia was never interested in wooden blades or dulled ones, only the sharp daggers would do.

Omia would stop crying if she had a blunted weapon, but she would still seek out the sharp ones, much to her parents' exasperation.

Despite that though, and through all the instances she’d been able to get her grubby little hands on one, she’d never cut herself. Not once had Omia ever touched the blade of the knife, only the handle. It was an oddity in their child, but over time they stopped seeing it as peculiar. Her affinity for knives fell to the back of their minds, just a strange behavior in their strange child.

If they could see into Omia’s head though, they would understand that her behavior was only a symptom of a much deeper internal issue.

As Omia got older, she saw flashes of things she’d never seen. Memories of something that never happened. The memories were of something scary happening, and for some reason they hurt to think about. Because of that, she got into the habit of ignoring them, pushing them away and never telling her parents of the peculiarity of her thoughts.

Initially, she told nobody about the memories because they hurt to talk about, but that purpose was soon forgotten. Instead, the desire to tell nobody was internalized into a core part of Omia’s being, making it her own little secret. The thought of telling others and seeking help became taboo to Omia, but the memories continued to flash through her mind, fragments and pieces slowly forming a bigger picture.

When she was six, she finally figured out that the memories were all related and about the same person, someone she’d never known named “Jane.”

Jane was a medic, serving in an army. Omia knew these words from the memories around Jane as well.

The memories of Jane weren’t about the way she lived, her family, or anyone related to her. No, Omia was slowly remembering Jane's death.

Omia wasn’t sure how she knew Jane would die, but she did. The memories told a story of Jane serving in her final battle, hiding in a tent on the backlines as more and more of their own people were carried in on stretchers.

Omia remembered that Jane constantly heard a barrage of explosions outside the medical tent, the noise always causing Janes fear to spike, but she never let herself flinch. She never stopped her bloody work of patching up the injured soldiers.

The memories exacted a toll on Omia’s psyche, and she grew up to be a rather quiet child.

Still, she was not unhappy. She’d never known life without the slowly unveiling memories of war, so she was not bothered by their presence. It was her normal.

Despite growing accustomed to it, a small piece of her dreaded the ending of Jane's story. The memories started with the first bomb dropped on the battlefield outside of Jane's medical tent, and each successive flash was the next second of Jane's memory. Sometimes the flashes would appear once per day, others once per week. At the worst of times though, Omia could suffer up to twelve in a single day.

Second by second, Omia approached the death of Jane, and she didn’t know when it would come.

Despite that, she continued to live her life, learning about the world around her. She learned that she lived in a small town called Darien, and that her father was a guard that stood on the walls around the city. Her mother often took care of a little garden near their house, or brought Omia with her to a river that ran through Darien. When her mother sat on the sloping bank, she would wash laundry and gossip with the others there, while Omia would go off and play with the other kids.

Her days were peaceful as she fell into a routine. Her father would usually leave before the sun was up and return after the sun had gone down. During those times, she’d help her mom with the chores in the morning then run around town with her friends, exploring every nook and cranny.

When she was tired of playing though, she would go see the city gate. It wasn’t the guards stationed there or the people going in and out that interested her though, but the outside world. Kids weren’t allowed around the gate, so she could only steal glimpses of it, but there was something about the outside that called to her.

Sometimes, she would go and find her dad while he was on guard, walking around with him as he patrolled the town with a serious expression on his face. Other times, she would follow parallel to the big town wall as her dad walked on top of it, watching him. She found that she was jealous of him quite a bit, as she wanted to see outside the walls as easily as he could.

Occasionally, though, her father would get days off of work to spend with Omia or her mom, helping out to get the chores done faster so Omia could play with her friends sooner. It was on one such day when she was around nine years old, though, that the routine was broken.

* * *

Omia and her parents were sitting around the table eating breakfast together. She didn’t talk much, but she loved listening to them speak about all the interesting things of the adult world, such as the dads job on the wall and the various things her mom heard through the rumor mill. Omia wasn’t old enough to hear all of it, so her parents danced around each of their respective topics, meaning she could never get the full picture. It frustrated her, but there wasn’t anything she could do to change that.

It was while she was listening to her dad talk about his shift the previous day that Omia saw a little change in his smiling expression, one showing a bit more tensity than before.

Her mom clearly picked up on it too, as she raised her eyebrow and asked “What?”

“Well…” her father responded. “I think I should take Omia on an excursion into Wiltwood,” he said gingerly.

Omia didn’t know what that was, so she leaned forward, listening closely. ‘Adult topic!’

Omia’s mother began running her hands through her hair. “Are you sure? She’s so helpful with the chores though!”

“I know, Karee, but you’ve seen it yourself. She keeps that knife on her everywhere she goes, and I’ve heard some people talking about how much she watches the gate, trying to look out. We might want to… consider… getting her into the guard more than forcing her to stay home. My own mother tried keeping me from the wilderness, and you know how that turned out. If Omia has even a little bit of me in her, I think we need to guide her, rather than stop her completely.”

Omia’s mother continued to run her fingers through her cherry blonde hair, and Omia could see her blue eyes start to water slightly. “But it's dangerous.”

“I know honey” her father said, reaching out and taking the hand of his wife, holding it gently in both of his. “It might lead to nothing, but it’s around this age where I snuck out looking for danger. You know I’m lucky to be alive after what I did. I don't want that for her.”

Omia’s mother seemed to deflate. “Okay. I know you wouldn’t do this if you weren’t serious.” Seeming to regain her energy though, she quickly continued: “On a few conditions! First of all, I know we’ve talked about this before and you prepared two packs just in case. You need to leave right now. On top of that, I want you to take Jacob and Torei with you. It's their off day too, and I want you all to be safe. Okay?”

“Certainly, honey,” her father responded, leaning over and giving his wife a kiss.

Omia’s mind raced as she tried to understand what was going on. Before she could though, her father looked at her and said “Hurry up Omia, eat fast! We gotta go!” then started wolfing down his own food as quickly as he could.

Omia, quick on the uptake, started eating quickly too as her mother guffawed at the sight of them. “Slow down you two!” she managed to say between chuckles.

In record time, Omia was done and out of her chair, but she didn’t know where to go, so she just stood there as her father ate the last of his eggs and stood up. “Follow me” he said, speed walking to the back of the house, where her parents room was located. She ran to catch up to him as he quickly opened the door, went into the closet, and pulled out two backpacks. One was sized for her father, while the other was much smaller.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

His blue eyes turned to her as he held one out.“Put this on, I’ll tell you what's in them on the way.” he said, and she hardly heard him. On the side of the bag, held in its sheath by a tied piece of leather, was a knife.

“Yes yes! A knife, I know! Hurry!” he shook her from her reverie, and she quickly put it on, watching as her father equipped his uniform, leather armor, in record time with a sword and boots to match. When he was done, he quickly put the leather cap over his mess of black hair and began to speed walk quickly out of the room and towards the house door, Omia following behind him.

“Love you honey!” he said on the way out

“Love you mom!” Omia followed with, quickly scooping up her own shoes as she passed by them.

A bittersweet smile on her face, Omia’s mother responded “I love you both. Be safe!”

Omia was out the door a moment later, hot on the heels of her father. He’d slowed down so she could keep up, but definitely not enough as she repeatedly stumbled under the weight of her pack and the speed she was forced to run.

Up the cobbled road they went, and Omia started panting quickly, but her father didn’t rest until they got to another house. He knocked on the door as she caught her breath behind him, but the moment was short, as another man opened the door.

“Loid! You got the missus onboard?” the tall lean man with brown hair and brown eyes said.

“Yea, but we gotta hurry. I want to be out of the forest before midday.”

“On it, brother. Stay here for a second,” the stranger said, leaving the door open as he rushed back into his house. Omia took the chance to slip her shoes on as well.

Omia’s father turned to her. “I’ll explain quickly. I’m taking you somewhere that's dangerous at certain times of day, and it's a lot safer in the morning than anything else. In that pack are rations for three days, a filled waterskin, two sets of clothing, and a waterproof sleeping bag. We will almost definitely use none of it, but it’s important to have, just in case.”

Right as he finished saying that, the man came back with his own backpack. Omia realized that he was already dressed in the leather guard armor with his shoes on before he’d even opened the door, and was likely waiting for Omia and her father. ‘How much has dad planned this? Did he tell his friends he was taking me into this… Wiltwood today?’

“Torei next?” the stranger, who she figured was Jacob, asked.

Her father nodded and turned around, leaving Omia and Jacob to follow. Now that she had her shoes on, it was a much easier time to the next house.

Again, he knocked on a random door, and again a fully-dressed guard in leather armor answered the door. This one already had a pack on though, and they immediately set out down the road, towards where Omia knew was the gate. She was barely able to glance that this “Torei” person was much more muscular than both Jacob and her dad, along with white hair and light blue eyes.

“Dad, what's the Wiltwood?” Omia managed to ask between breaths as she ran.

She got out, before he responded “It’s called Wiltwood forest. You see, as one of the town guards, I’ve got three jobs. Stand on the walls and look menacing, walk around town and look menacing, or go on excursions into the Wiltwood forest to clear out some undead so they don't get too close to Darien. The other two, you already know about, but it’s time to see Wiltwood with your own two eyes.”

She was quiet, not because she was out of questions, but because she was out of breath from all the running. Still, he expanded a bit more, likely seeing how she struggled under their pace.

“I wanted to leave early in order to give you time to see and question everything. I know you’ll be curious, but we have to be back before midday. From sunrise to noon, Wiltwood is far calmer than any other time.”

She nodded, then focused on keeping up with her dads steps. Omia also noticed that her dad, Jacob, and Torei had all started marching in sync without even trying. It sounded weird, hearing it from within the formation herself.

After a few minutes her father slowed and she looked up to see they’d reached the gate, where she saw multiple guards standing beside a massive door waving people in and out. It was split in the middle, with the two pieces swiveled outward.

Omia panted as she stood there, despite not running at all. Her father let her breathe for a moment as

“You’re really takin your kid to see the dead, Loid?” one of the guards stationed there asked.

“I don’t wanna hear judgement from it, but yea, I am. I can see that she’s gonna end up there eventually, and I’d like to be there when she does.”

The mystery guard shrugged. “Well, now's as good a time as any I suppose. Aye, you’re good to go through.”

Omia’s father nodded at the man, then walked through the gate as Omia followed behind. She was struggling to keep up with all the changes, but was elated. This would be the first time she’d ever left the walls, the first time she would be able to actually see what was outside, rather than simply get glances of it before being chased away by her dads coworkers.

From the many times she’d seen it, she partially knew what to expect, but was still stunned when they finally left the protection of the walls completely.

In front of her was a road that stretched to the horizon, but everywhere else was a sea of endless green.

A massive grasslands opened before them, waving and shimmering in the gentle breeze. It was clear that the town was on a hill as well, because Omia could see far, despite the grass growing up to her chest.

The swaying was accompanied by a unique smell as well, one of earth and life. It was hard to describe the scent of life, but it was the only word that came to mind for Omia.

“What is this?” she wheezed out, still slightly breathless from their run.

“Lets keep moving, we can walk from here on out too. I wanted to get you at least here in order to help give context to everything.” he said, then turned to the right, walking parallel to the wall. Omia noticed that there was a worn dirt path that to follow, and quickly caught up to her dad, Jacob and Torei behind her.

“Before I can tell you about the field, I have to tell you about Wiltwood,” her father said. “I wont say I understand why, but Wiltwood grows monsters called undead, do you know what they are?” he asked her.

She’d heard about them before from others talking, but wanted to get a clearer picture, so she shook her head.

“Well, undead are creatures that have died and come back to life. Again, I don't know why, but anything that dies in Wiltwood doesn’t stay that way for long. When something becomes an undead though, it's not the same as it was before. The undead are aggressive and murderous, attacking any living creatures they can. There are some undead that attack other undead, but thats for another time.”

Omia was fascinated at the thought of something coming back to life after its death, even if it was in another form. “If they’re hurt badly when they die, do they heal when they come back to life?”

Her father shook his head. “No, they stay hurt, but the wounds don't affect them as much. There are certain methods you have to use in order to re-kill undead. Also, despite them moving around when they come back, they are most certainly not alive. That's an important distinction for a lot of people, so be sure to remember it, okay?”

She nodded her head, looking at him with wide blue eyes. She was still scanning the massive field before them.

“Now, I’ve seen you watch me as I work, and I’ve talked to the parents of your friends. They said you’re jealous I get to see outside the walls frequently, right?”

Guiltily, she looked at her own feet and nodded.

Her father laughed, and said “There’s nothing wrong with that. I just wanted to clarify that we don't have to actually go into the Wiltwood if you don't want to. I’m taking you on an excursion so that you know more about my job before just deciding that this is what you want to do. At any point, if you’re too scared or disgusted, we can turn around. Town guards have a bit more of a dangerous job than most think, so I don’t want to start training you for it if you’re not absolutely certain that it’s something you want to do. Okay?”

Again, she nodded at him, stars in her eyes as she looked towards the rising sun that lit up the beautiful vista of shimmering veridian.

Her father smiled down at her. “Ah yes, that’s right, you asked what this field was. Well, now that you know a bit about Wiltwood, you’ll understand the field more. You see, the Wiltwood used to spill out undead everywhere, and was just a general nuisance. You can't really cut down the trees or some of the stronger beasts come to get you, and you can’t endlessly patrol the entire edge of the forest, so some fancy people from the capital- err, a big city in the center of the kingdom- err, a uh, big territory- uh. Not important. Basically, some smart people figured out that this type of grass enjoys eating the thing that animates undead. Most plants either die from the energy or make the energy stronger, but this special kind of grass can choke out the undead.

“Apparently it took more than a few years, but eventually an equilibrium was reached where the grass wouldn’t encroach on Wiltwood because the energy would be too much for it to devour, meaning that no big undead came from deeper in the woods, and the Wiltwood could no longer spit out undead on the rest of the world, because the field devours them rather quickly.

“There are, of course, exceptions to both cases, but generally that's how it works.”

She chewed on his words for around half a minute as they walked, the field becoming more impressive by the moment. She also realized that she didn’t really know what it was called. “Does it have a name? Like Wiltwood?” she asked.

Her father nodded and said “Yes, but its not really agreed on. Technically it's called the Fields of Life, but most call it the Death Eater. The people that planted the field want it to be called Fields of Life, so if you ever go somewhere other than the town, you’ll have to call it that or you might get in trouble. Apparently, the people who made it get quite mad if you don't follow their naming sense.”

She hummed her assent, then went back to looking around it all. The swaying fields felt a bit more… threatening now. If they were able to pull the energy straight out of undead, could they do the same to her?

“Can the field hurt people?” she asked her father.

He raised his eyebrow at her question. “No I don't believe so. It actually heals people who sit in it for a long time.”

On and on they walked, and she struggled to keep staring at the field as she wanted to. The sun was getting brighter, and really starting to hurt her eyes.

When it was finally too much for her, she turned away from it and faced forward, finally seeing something she hadn’t noticed was already in view. Wiltwood.

The breeze in the fields seemed to disappear when she laid eyes on the gnarled bark of the sickly trees, a dark fog spilling out of it and into the grass.

The phantom creaking of wood rang out in the distance, but she was positive she should be too far away to hear it.

The scenery around her dimmed, and everything else fell to the wayside as the Wiltwood grew in her vision. Whispers of comfort promised to help her, to remove all the problems she’d ever had. It was a promise of peace.

A promise of death.

She felt her father shake her out of her reverie and blinked rapidly, looking him in the eyes. His brow was scrunched, and he looked slightly worried as he kneeled in front of her.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she said, gulping. Her mouth felt too dry.

“Are you okay? You zoned out. I called your name a few times but you didn’t respond.”

She nodded, but it was clear he wouldn’t accept that as an answer. “Yes, I’m okay. I just… thought the forest and the field looked really nice from here.”

“Really?” her father asked skeptically, getting a nod from her. He sighed. “Alright, I’m trusting you to tell me if anything is wrong.” Then, standing up, he turned back towards Wiltwood, and continued leading her around the walls of the city. Occasionally he threw worried glances at her, but she just smiled at him each time, hoping to alleviate his worries.

She couldn’t turn back now. She needed to reach Wiltwood.