The sky was a bright blue as the partly cloud-covered sun glistened in the morning. The remaining raindrops on the tree leaves reflected the dreary state of the nearby house. It was a two-story stone-built house. Its wooden roof, covered with straw, was now covered with small tree limbs. Its crops consisted of carrots, peppers, and potatoes that were once blooming, had now been squished, or even uprooted.
Harsh light from outside poured into the dim room. It was rather small yet relaxing at the same time. Near the back of it was a large bed and on either side was a nightstand, matching the bed’s willow frame. Against the nightstand to right lay a sheathed sword, its leather shoulder strap hanging loose. The front of the room was fitted with a desk with its own accompanying chair that sat in the opposite corner, several feet away from the stairs on the right side of the bed. Upon the desk was a candle holder. It had seen better days, as was noticeable by the warping and rusting iron. On the wall behind the desk was a shelf lined with books, although the last two had fallen over on their sides.
Esmund jolted awake, sitting upright immediately. He locked his palms beneath him and into the bed, softly digging his fingers into the sharp hay-filled bedding below. He was sweating profusely, screamed loudly, and then began panting heavily. His head pounding, Esmund tried to slow his breathing, but this proved to be more difficult than he expected. W-what the hell was that—was it real? He darted his eyes towards the bedroom window and winced, of course, it did storm last night, he sighed while staring at the decimated crops below. He ruffled his brown hair in disbelief, the dream and the storm were a coincidence, I’m sure of it. Esmund paused, dropped his arms to the bed, and waited in silence for a moment before hearing his sister running up the stairs.
“Esmund! You alright?” she shouted from below. Her hand grasped onto corner of the stairway, and she propped herself up into the room. The dark brown hair that drooped around her head was in a mess and she was still in her pajamas. She pursed her lips and held her hand to her mouth, unsure of what was going on, “Esmund?” she poked.
The boy looked at her blankly before coming to a somber expression, “I—I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you, Serena.”
Serena grabbed onto the railing tightly, unsure whether her brother was telling the truth. She dropped her shoulders to allow herself to recover from the panic. “Well, you know how I worry about you, Esmund. Be sure to get up in a few minutes, breakfast is almost ready.”
“What’s for breakfast?” Esmund asked, rubbing his eyes to remove any remaining sleepiness.
“It’s a secret, of course!” Serena said jokingly, giving a small chuckle, “But seriously, spiced oats. One of your favorites.”
Esmund couldn’t help but laugh with her, she could always manage to cheer him up, even when it seemed impossible. “Alright then, I’ll be down in a few, promise.” He grinned slightly, still amused at her joke, and watched as she nodded and went back downstairs.
Once she had disappeared, Esmund tossed the wool blanket covering him aside. He sat at the edge of the bed and stretched his limbs before standing upright. He went over to his set of clothes by the window and could feel the warmth of the morning on his feet with each step. Esmund picked up his folded silk shirt and sturdy brown pants, quickly changing from his pajamas to normal clothes. He then swiped up the sword, grasping onto the arm strap, and slung it over his shoulder and headed down the stairs.
The kitchen area was a quiet place as Serena stirred the morning meal’s dangling metal pot over the firepit. She reminded herself how Esmund had been asking her to teach him to cook, but she never got around to it. One of these days, I really should teach him. I can’t have him rely on me forever, she thought, although at least I’ve been able to teach him about hunting, farming and foraging. We’ll need it today. Serena quickly grabbed a small pot of cinnamon off the spices shelf hanging to her left. She opened it, grabbed a handful, and slowly spread it out and into the oat mixture. It sizzled to life and the smell was heavenly—the same recipe their father used to make for the family. She clamped the lid shut and replaced the spice container on the rack. Serena then stirred the pot for a good minute or so before she heard Esmund making his way through the entryway. “Ah good, I was just finishing up. Hope you’re hungry!” She beamed a smile at her brother, trying to cheer him up again. He didn’t budge and she let it go, instead grabbing two bowls from the cabinet on her right and pouring two scoops of oats into each. Serena carried one bowl at a time, carefully placing the first on the table in front of Esmund, who was placing his sword down against the table, and gave him a spoon made of polished stone. She sat down with her dish and propped her elbows up on the table, her head resting upon her interlocked hands. Serena felt rather fidgety but couldn’t quite make out what the cause of it was.
Esmund sat quietly and tried to cheer his mood up, but he was shaking in the back of his mind, unable to deal with the horrible nightmare he dreamt of. Of course, it wasn’t much—but it felt so real, like I was the one who was there. That roar was—
“Esmund?” Serena inquired, pointing her spoon at him. She stared at him in disbelief as he stirred the bowl of oats slowly. Her brother’s face gave off no emotion.
—I could feel it... the rain pelting my body, the explosions of thunder…
Esmund was lost in thought, trailing off about what he saw and at this point his oats had gotten cold. Suddenly, there was a loud bang emitting from the opposite end of the table, shaking his bowl and causing the contents inside to jump out briefly. He slowly came back to reality, hearing a muffled noise as his vision began to focus. His sister was shouting his name from across the table, her expression drawing fury and disgust. His eyes widened. Realizing that Serena had been trying to speak to him, although he was ignoring her to try and make sense of the nightmare.
“I know something’s wrong; you can’t hide it from me, Esmund!” Serena shouted, her voice a bit coarse and trying to contain herself. An awkward silence followed for the next few seconds.
“I’m sorry, Serena,” Esmund muttered, “I’m fine, honestly. I’m just overthinking this horrible dream from last night.”
Serena tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms, “I’m sorry for getting upset. You know that I don’t like it when that happens, and I worry about you all the time—” She let out a somber sigh, “—ever since mom divorced our father... and then when he passed away...” Her voice drifted off as the weight of those words lingered in the air.
Esmund scooped up some oats onto his spoon, unsure how to respond. He looked out the kitchen window and carefully observed the crops. Everything had been ruined and it was going to be hard to replant all that they lost this late into the springtime. He swallowed a mouthful of breakfast, “I noticed this morning when I got up that the crops have been ruined.” It was a quick attempt at changing the subject, although it seemed to have worked.
“Mhm,” Serena nodded in agreement, “I figured that it was going to at least rain, but not this badly. Seems like there was a horribly violent storm.” She stretched her arms for a moment before giving a reply, yawning in the process, “I think we’ll have to make up for it through some hunting, perhaps foraging as well.”
Once Esmund had finished eating, the two of them stood and began to clean up. Serena handed Esmund the dirty bowls and utensils and he in turn cleaned them in a small washing pan. After several minutes of scrubbing, Esmund dried his hands on a wool towel while Serena went to change and grab her weapon. When she returned, she carried a rather decorative hunting bow that had intricate symbols and creatures carved into it; strapped to her back was a quiver containing arrows that she had crafted several weeks ago. On her waist hung a small bag made of buckskin. Esmund grabbed his sword from against the table and put the arm strap over his left shoulder. He and Serena stood side by side at the inside entrance as he recalled when their parents had each given them their weapons. Esmund got the sword from their father, and Serena her bow from their mother. It was all they had left of them.
Serena opened the front door, and a refreshing breeze ran through the room. The trees in front of them swayed gently as if dancing and the sun was high and bright in the sky. The duo walked onward onto the dirt path that led to the crops only for them to deviate and pass them without a second thought. Each step brought them closer to the woodland beside their home. They weren’t even halfway across the landscape before Serena realized she couldn’t hear Esmund’s footsteps anymore. She paused and slowly turned around, unsure of what was going on. Esmund was frozen in place, trembling ever so slightly that it was barely noticeable. He realized she noticed him standing there idly, though, because he quickly ran to get back in pace with her.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
The entrance to the forest was tightly packed with trees and barely any sunlight was poking through. It made it hard for the two of them to navigate their way into their usual hunting area deep in the forest. Serena almost tripped on some tree roots at one point, stumbling over herself and grabbing onto a sturdy tree limb before she could fall. Esmund felt chills running through his body as he looked around at the gnarled branches surrounding them. Something in their vicinity felt off, but he couldn’t quite point out what it was.
It felt like an eternity to walk through the odd tunnel-like pathway. Esmund couldn’t wait for this to be over with.
“We’re finally here!” Serena said confidently, stepping forward with her arms raised. The area before the two was a large open space. The trees were more spaced out than those at the entrance, but it felt like one could easily get lost in here and never return. “This shouldn’t take too long, I hope,” Serena said, drawing her bow from her back, “We’ll meet up here again when the sun has reached its peak.”
Esmund nodded, “Sure.” He readjusted the sword strap on his shoulder to rebalance it.
“If you need help, just do our whistle call. You remember how to do it, right?” Serena asked. She noticed him fidgeting at the question, realizing he wasn’t entirely sure. They rarely had to go out to the forest in the first place, so there was no reason to practice or memorize it. It was quite funny, so Serena gave a light chuckle at her brother’s expense. She then placed her forefinger and thumb to her mouth and let out a quick, harmonious tune that echoed through the forest.
Esmund thought it over for a moment, taking in the details and repeated it back to her, though a bit rough sounding. His sister nodded, confirming that he knew how to make the call.
“Alright, since that’s out of the way, let’s part here.” Serena let out a sigh of relief, glad that she wouldn’t need to worry about him again. He seemed to be cheering up quickly, she thought. Serena then put her hand on his shoulder and put on a rather serious face, “Just make sure you don’t hurt yourself again like you did a couple of months ago. You remember how bad that was, don’t you?”
“Yeah, though the scars haven’t fully healed I think.” Esmund responded, wincing at the thought of those wounds. He remembered that he was chasing a white-haired rabbit around a tree. It was quite stupid, but clearly the creature wanted to have some fun. Serena was laughing silly, he snickered, and then stopped when I tripped over some roots and into a thorn bush.
“Hm, I would have thought they did by now. I felt so bad for the rabbit, though. Poor thing wanted to be left alone!” Serena burst out laughing as she recalled the event. She let go of Esmund to regain her composure, “Anyways,” Serena paused trying to catch her breath, “Let’s get on with this, shall we? But first...” she drifted off, reaching for the bag that dangled off her side. She untied its loops keeping it closed and reached in, pulling out some soft, rolled up fleece. “You’re going to need this if that happens again. Or at least if you get hurt.” She handed Esmund the bandages, who took them, although he gave a look of annoyance and worry. “Don’t give me that face! I have another one for myself. I prepared for this, like I always do,” Serena quipped. She tied the flaps together on the medical bag before giving her brother a thumbs up and trotting away, deep into the other end of the forest. Esmund pocketed the soft, small roll hesitantly and set forth to do his duties.
Foraging was a harder task than he remembered, as he had only found a small handful of berries. Truthfully, he was reluctant to even bother going deeper into the forest alone.
“Well, this is unfortunate. Half of these don’t even seem edible,” he scoffed, rolling the bunch around in his hand: a mixture of pink, purple, and blue in different sizes. Some were too ripe and fell to pieces with the tiniest bit of movement. Others weren’t even in the proper stage of growth—picked way too soon, he figured. Esmund walked somberly past a few more bushes that had berries, but upon closer inspection, they weren’t ready. “Damn. Bushes this late in the season are supposed to be full of the things. Maybe I’ll have to try my hand at hunting after all,” he said to himself. He shook his head, “No, I should keep looking. I’ve barely done anything, and I can’t give up that easily.”
Serena drew an arrow from her quiver; a deer in the distance raised its head up from the grass. It took quick notice of the huntress, darting its head around and starting to run. Serena wasn’t going to let it get away from her. Her focus came to her breathing as she drew back the arrow on her bow. Serena took a deep breath in, waited for two seconds, and then exhaled calmly, tracking the animal’s movements. She let go and a small twang rippled through the air. The arrow's path was short and swift: moments after it was released, it struck the deer in the neck. The beast let out a cry as it reared its hind legs and collapsed to the ground. It was breathing heavily, the wound draining its life slowly. Several moments passed as Serena waited for the animal’s final moments. When the creature lay still, she slung her bow over her shoulder, ready to take the animal’s carcass with her. Serena walked over and bent down on one knee, gripping the arrow from the neck of her victim, trying her best to get the arrow out, “Come on, damn you!” She cursed. Behind her, she heard the noise of rustling leaves. Serena paid little attention to it before standing back up, unable to retrieve the ammo. She turned around; the leaves rustled once more as the wind blew lightly.
“Hm…” she pondered, squinting at the thick shrubbery before her. There was a shadow-engulfed figure standing before her, unmoving. “Oh, Esmund! Didn’t see you there. Find anything yet?” Her question almost echoing in emptiness was answered with silence. Shortly after, a pair of brilliant red eyes with thin diamond-shaped pupils appeared. Serena’s heart dropped and began to race, her hands shaking. W-who? W-what?! She took a step back, bumping into the deer’s lifeless body with the back of her foot. Serena took a few quick, deep breaths to focus. It didn’t matter, she thought. All she knew was that something wasn’t right and quickly drew her bow, notching an arrow. “Whoever the hell you are, s-stay away!” she threatened, her voice shaking as her eyes darted between the mysterious figure and pair of orbs.
Esmund stopped in his tracks, tired from wandering aimlessly and checking for things to forage. He looked at his surroundings, which had changed quite drastically. The trees were even more compact, leaving him only about two dozen feet of open space around him. In front of him was what appeared to be two gnarled trees arching into one another, forming an entryway to a dark tunnel. The forest had countless areas like these, he figured, remembering the entrance that he and Serena had taken. Esmund stared into the darkness and was slowly being pulled towards it. His body was walking without him caring about what might be on the other side. He stepped through the ominous void and was engulfed in a misty fog. It was hard for him to see anything, but he managed to make his way further.
The fog began to dissipate shortly after, revealing an even smaller area. It was a dead end, encircling Esmund and leaving only one way out. There were patches of dirt where grass used to be and dozens of tree branches littering the ground, as were chunks of what looked like shattered rock. The middle of the area seemed to have some type of remnants—perhaps it was the boulder that was now in pieces? Esmund walked closer to the center piece, his curiosity getting the better of him. The boulder now looked entirely different to him as he looked at the material that this was made of. Some kind of fine-polished stone? That’s bizarre. What would something like that be doing out here? He questioned. Esmund drew his right hand forward; his hand barely touched it when a jolt of blue and white electricity exploded, running up his arm.
Esmund screamed. His arm felt as though it were on fire and being stung by a thousand bees. He shifted his body backwards and finally freed himself, landing on his back. The electrical substance died down and stopped sparking shortly after. Esmund sat up, wincing at the pain surging through his arm. Whatever that was… It wasn’t normal… he thought, sweating and panting heavily. He observed his arm which now had a reddish tone to it. Esmund sat up slowly, avoiding use of his right arm and took out the bandages his sister had given him. I didn’t want to have to use these. Why must I be such an idiot? He wrapped the entirety of his upper arm and hand in what he could. There, he flexed his arm about, although it still felt painful, it was a good deal less than it was.
A sound faintly echoed through the air. Esmund listened intently, unsure of what it was. He quickly scrambled to his feet and ran back through the way he came. Then the noise came through once more as he dodged his way through obstacles. He turned in the direction that it sounded to come from and continued onward. Something didn’t seem right, and he knew that. Moments later, a much louder sound came through and he recognized it as the whistle Serena had taught him. His eyes widened at the realization that she could be in danger. Esmund’s left hand turned into a fist as frustration ran through his mind, hoping that she would be okay.
“Serena!” Esmund shouted as he pushed his way through a thick bush. “Are you okay? Where—” he froze. Next to him, buried into the trunk of a tree, was an arrow. She always retrieves them, he thought. He turned slowly and pushed some branches out of the way and swiftly moved through them. Arrows had punctured numerous trees and the ground. There, in front of him, he confirmed his worries, horrifying him. He choked on the remaining words he wished to shout out to her. In front of him, almost a hundred feet away was cloaked in purple-black fog. The face was hidden, but the figure held onto Serena, who was battered and bruised. There were small cuts along her face and her eyes were struggling to remain open. She’s in a lot of pain, what the hell is that figure doing to her?
“It seems that I’ve caught two little flies today. It’s a good thing that I’ll be taking care of this one first,” said the figure, its voice distorted.
“W-what? Leave my sister alone!” screamed Esmund.
“On the contrary, I think you should be leaving her alone,” replied the figure, “You’re both going to die anyways. I can’t have witnesses.” The humanoid figure pulled out a dagger, waving it in front of Serena’s face. The girl began to struggle in his grip, unable to speak.
Esmund was frozen in place, gritting his teeth. There’s nothing I can do. Tears began to form in his eyes as he watched the knife get pressed to his sister’s throat. “Serena!” he shouted at last as the dagger slit her throat. Her body began to dissolve into small particles when she dropped to the floor. Almost instantly the figure had disappeared, but the last thing he felt was that very same dagger puncturing the back of his chest.