The morning sun cast dappled shadows on the forest path as the group resumed their journey. Almas couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The guards seemed to be sticking closer to him and Creetan, their eyes watchful, suspicion evident in their expressions. It was as if they anticipated the boys' next move.
Lost in his thoughts, Almas suddenly heard a faint melody carried by the wind. It was enchanting, drawing him closer with each passing note. The music grew louder, resonating through his being, its hypnotic pull impossible to resist. Deep within, a voice cautioned him of the magic entwined within the melody.
A sense of urgency gripped Almas as he realized the others were succumbing to the allure of the music. Their faces softened, tension giving way to a tranquil acceptance. Almas fought against the enchantment, his mind racing for a way to break free.
But before he could devise a plan, the source of the music came into view-a man standing tall, playing an instrument that resembled a blend of a battle staff and wind instrument. His attire, adorned with symbols of mourning and a skull mask, marked him as an avenger-a figure of vengeance and solemn purpose.
The avenger ceased playing, and the magical hold on the group dissipated. Almas stood rooted to the spot, trying to shake off the lingering effects, his heart pounding in his chest. He exchanged a knowing glance with Creetan, their unspoken recognition of the avenger's identity hanging in the air.
The avenger lowered his instrument, his eyes piercing through the skull mask. He spoke in a low, raspy voice, "Where are you taking the sons of Lord Aguerius?"
The leader of the escort, a burly man with a scarred face, sneered at the avenger. "That's none of your business, stranger. Move aside or face the consequences."
Sensing an opportunity, Creetan took a step back, as if seeking shelter behind their escorts. With three quick taps on Almas's shoulder, then two, and finally one, Creetan initiated their daring escape plan. The brothers darted to the side, disappearing into the dense forest, their nimble movements aided by Crusty, who bravely fended off one of the guards.
The sounds of struggle echoed behind them as they fled deeper into the woods, including the clanging of weapons and notes played by the instrument of the avenger. Almas's heart pounded with each step, adrenaline fueling their flight. They wove through the underbrush, guided by the instinct to survive and the flicker of hope that burned within.
In the midst of their escape, Almas spared a moment to reflect on the avenger's voice-it was hauntingly familiar. But now was not the time for introspection. They had broken free from their captors, and their priority was to put as much distance as possible between themselves and their pursuers.
With the forest as their refuge, Almas and Creetan pressed onward, determined to navigate the unknown and seek sanctuary from the dangers that loomed ahead.
YOU ARE READING
Adventures in the Sacred Forest
FantasyAlmas has a new friend in the elvish boy Ulec and the forest becomes their playground. However when trip with to the Provincial Capital starts to go wrong, Almas learns what the power of friendship can really do.
