Where do I go? he thought, looking up towards the two small moons in the sky. Not too different in size, but smaller than the original moon from centuries ago. The moon’s light was only dimmed by the torch he held, lighting his way through the ever-growing dark forest. His bronze face and dark brown eyes, glowing off the flame, his enchanted cloak frequently glowing symbols, and his leather black boots crunching softly against the old fallen leaves. As he edges towards the part of the forest that was pitch black, he tries extending his arm out further into nothingness.
No moonlight from above, no torch flame reflections…. nothingness. The tip of his shoe on the edge of the shadows. His pupils widen as he is blinded by a bright light from deep within the forest. His courage escapes him as he falls backwards, the light fades back into the dark, followed by a roar as loud as it had trembled the ground. He swallows his fear as he stands back up and picks up his torch, reaching into his cloak and materializing a sword. He chants for a moment, and the sword glows a deep swirl of purple and blue. As he sticks the blade into the darkness, it sizzles away. He grins slightly, “Silver? Eh, should not be surprised. Most dead magic is killed by silver.” The shadow retreats as he swings his sword but he knows he doesn’t have much time as the shadows slowly come back, staking his torch into the ground he pats himself for a moment, “come on where is it, where is it?” his fist clamps around something in his pocket, will it out it is a locket. Sliding his hand across his blade, letting his blood flow down its edge to the ground, he grabs hold of the locket and chants before putting the necklace on. A bubble appears around him. Pushing the shadow back by force, the silver force field makes it scream in anguish, picking up his torch, regains his hilt before assertively marching forward.
As he steadily marched forward in the darkness, the sounds of critters and creatures alike were only drowned out by the sound of leaves crushed beneath his boots. He sighs, before stopping and looking back at the empty darkness, the entrance he came from was barely visible now.
He looks forward again, taking a step before seeing something shine. He squints before walking closer to it, realizing it’s a hand. Put not just any hand, he knew this hand, his heart fell, knowing who it was. As he reaches down, the force field around him pushes the shadow away enough to reveal a face. His eyes glossed over and were white, just staring at him, not sure whether to take his dead friend’s facial expression as grief or a warning. His tan olive skin now charred and translucent, the wavy silk locks on his head now withered, straight strains of hair. “What happened, Benny?” He says under his breath, thinking of casting a revival spell, he knew it would only be a waste as those affected by the shadows touch become mad men when returned to the living. He shakes his head before standing back up, “No, what’s dead should stay dead,” he whispers before walking over Benny’s corpse and continuing to push forward. There it was again that roar, closer than before, he knew what it was, could have been what got Benny some weeks ago, but that wasn’t his target.
Through the pitch blackness, he sees an opening in the forest, * This must be it, the other side* he says to himself. Picking up the pace but reassuring himself from full-on sprinting as he doesn’t want to draw any of the creatures’ attention as he makes his way out. The sunlight at the end gave him a newfound hope, but that light was soon blocked by a large black figure moving in front of it. Its large presence blocked what little light was hitting his face.
A bead of sweat drips from his curly hair, he stakes the torch into the ground, and moves behind what appears to be a tree. The bark was grey and petrified, hoping the light from the torch would distract whatever creature could survive in this shadow. As he hears the footsteps coming closer, he maneuvers around the tree, out of view. He sneaks a peek from behind the tree and watches as a pale, eyeless creature walks into the field he left behind. It sniffs at the fire; its two upper tentacles reach around the fire. Almost inspecting it before, its tendril lifts the fires as it opens it’s mouth to engulf the flame. The hooded man takes light baby steps as the creature is distracted. The sweat on his forehead was only silenced by the dried leaf crushing against his feet. He hastens as he draws towards the light, but his brazenness causes him to stomp on an old tree branch. He stops, hearing the creature’s attention turn towards him. He weighs his options briefly before the creature snarls, then sniffs the air. Letting out a roar into the shadows, which is followed by roars in the distance.
It takes off back into the shadows, its footsteps becoming more distant by the second. He takes his chances at that moment to run for the light, chanting spells to himself, making his boots glow and his speed increase. As he closes in on the light, the ground rumbles under him, he has no time to stop; his curiosity and fear telling him to stop, but his legs keep running regardless. Whatever it was, he could feel its hand swiping at him from behind, narrowly messing his cape, but he was agile and swift. However big this creature was, it was fast cause of its height, but that worked against it as it was too slow. He takes his sword, chucking it forward into the exit light as its shining silver crosses the threshold, the sun’s light reflecting off the metal. He feels a tight grasp at his cape, a struggle he knew he would lose, closing his eye. He can feel the stare of the creature even as it is covered in darkness. The coldness in its roar fades as he hovers in the air before dropping to the ground.
He opens his eyes from the thud, seeing his sword calling him. “At it again with your luck? Elmea.” He smirks, turning his attention to the forest exit. The roar that was so close turns into a grunt of rage and confusion as the monster’s footsteps shaking the earth become less and less noticeable. He takes the moment to lie back and inhale deeply, gets up, and sheathes his sword. “Almost to Loquat City.” He says, continuing, his eyes locking onto the tallest building, lingering over the hilltop.
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