Several disappearances and unexplained events have been registered shorty after the commercialization of an ancient statue linked to some legends from a mysterious place called "Reich der Finsternis" in eastern Germany, there is no know route leadin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Scaping the forest of damnation
The anonymous letter they'd linked to Nick turned out to be accurate. It didn't take them long to find the road after riding through the looming shadows of the oak trees for just a few minutes. They all silently agreed that this was the kind of place no agent should be after dark, when the rippers would be out stalking for prey. Liz couldn't help but picture the human remains they'd seen floating in the water hole at the start of the mission. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought that those grotesque creatures might be tied to the mysteries surrounding this place.
Liz's horse trudged steadily forward, while the other two moved awkwardly, shifting and stumbling in response to their riders' unease. The road—little more than a mix of dirt, rocks, and patches of grass—blurred under the dense fog emanating from the forest, wrapping around them like icy fingers and sending chills through their bones every time the wind swept through. On both sides of the path, the dreary vegetation stretched out, merging with the oppressive gray atmosphere. Crows flitted back and forth, dropping their feathers silently, as if even the birds and plants shared a knowledge of the hostility that thickened the air. Only the sound of the horses' hooves broke the spectral stillness, highlighting the vulnerability that weighed down on the agents. Their silence wasn't incidental—it felt like a shared pact to avoid drawing the attention of something sinister lurking in the darkness.
As they moved forward, the trail widened, and the oaks and bushes closed in around them, forming an arch that trapped them under shadows resembling the claws of some ghostly presence. Liz couldn't shake the feeling that the hunters or even Holzmann's executioner could appear at any moment, a fear that burned hot in her chest. But that fire quickly died down when she reminded herself that, according to Florian, they'd already left behind the territory associated with that abominable beast. Still, the duchess's vague warnings continued to gnaw at her.
The anonymous letter had reignited the mission that had led them away from the safety of the camp: finding Max. Yet, doubt lingered over the writer's true intentions.
They kept riding at a cautious pace for nearly an hour, ignoring the sinister aura seeping from the foreboding darkness of the forest. Liz's memories of riding across the sunlit prairies with her grandfather and father, which used to help her relax, now provided no comfort. The weight of the psychological strain she carried was heavy, and the bleak, lifeless atmosphere around them stood in harsh contrast to those long-ago days on the prairies, glowing in vivid green hues. Whenever she glanced at Chris and Bernard, she saw herself as an awkward eight-year-old, struggling to keep up with her grandfather as she rode her first pony. He'd always been ahead of her, with his well-groomed gray beard, a plaid shirt tucked into his pants by a worn leather belt, radiating the calm and wisdom she'd believed she needed back then. Four years later, he'd been clapping proudly as she rode her favorite mare alone, tipping her brown hat like she was in an old Western movie.
