The Unwanted

4.

Zachaeus von Hal

4.1.14.7.5.18.

The forest around us dissolved into a spectral blur, old trees reduced to shifting shadows that clawed and reached as we ran with an urgency born of desperation. Our cloaks, heavy with frost, clung to our forms like the shrouds of lost souls, the hoods pulled low over our faces to shield us from the bitter sting of the icy storm. Each stride was a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating grasp of winter, the night thick with an oppressive silence punctuated only by the rhythmic pounding of our feet against the snow-laden ground. This route—fraught with danger yet swifter than any other—was our only recourse to reach Hillslow Woods before the night consumed us entirely.

Through the blizzard's veil, I glimpsed a yawning void carved into the earth's frozen crust. I veered to the side, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch, icy tendrils grazing my cheek, then with a practiced yet fleeting glance I readied myself to vault over it. Survival lay in the balance—on the other side of the obstacle, there was the promise of continued journey or the grim fate of becoming a midnight feast for the creatures lurking in the shadows below.

As I gathered myself to jump, Dragon's desperate exclamation pierced the night, a final, terrified utterance of, "I'm going to fucking die—" before the world dissolved into the thrill of the leap. I sprang into the icy air, the darkness below threatening to engulf me and for a fleeting, suspended moment, the cold, unfeeling night seemed to stretch infinitely before me.

The brief eternity of suspended motion seemed to stretch infinitely before we finally crashed onto snow with a muted thud.

Dragon, his breath coming in ragged gasps, clapped a gloved hand upon Mathias's shoulder, his face flushed with a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Forget what I said." He panted, his voice a strained whisper against the howling wind. "That was absolutely magnificent. We must do it again." He wheezed, fumbling with the icy remnants clinging to his cloak. The shimmering frost scattered like stars in the moonlight, glinting briefly before melting away into the darkness.

With his demeanour unchanged by the thrill, Mathias merely rolled his emerald eyes with an air of practiced indifference. His gaze, however, betrayed a flicker of amusement, barely perceptible beneath the stoic mask he wore.

I, too, followed suit with a roll of my own eyes.

"Pray, consult the map." Mathias said from my right as he absently took out and toyed with the gleaming silver of his pocket watch. "Examine the remaining distance."

With a flick of my wrist, the map unfurled with a shiver in the icy air. It laid bare our path, promising a mere half-day's journey to our destination—though the promise was as ephemeral and unsettling as the shadows that danced upon its surface.

"We will continue north until we reach Cold Creek, then turn east, and we shall reach Hillslow Woods." I commanded, my voice laced with an edge of impatience. With another flick of my hand, the map dissolved into the ether, leaving only the lingering afterimage of its spectral light. The ease with which it vanished left an unsettling echo in my mind, a sense of foreboding that gnawed at the edges of my sanity.

A frigid gust swept through the night, rustling the hem of my cloak and pulling my thoughts into sharp focus. I twisted my lips into a thin line as my hand raked through my dark hair, tugging at the strands in a futile gesture of frustration.

With each passing moment, it felt as though I was promised further erosion of my sanity.

I locked eyes with Dragon and Mathias after adjusting the hood of my cloak, their gazes meeting mine with a silent accord, and without further hesitation we resumed our pace.

"If I perish from hunger or exhaustion, I swear I'll haunt your wretched souls for the rest of eternity." Dragon growled, his words tinged with an unsettling fervor and a tint of amusement. "Though, given how you reek, I doubt you'll last much longer. You smell as if death has already taken a liking to you."

Despite the gravity of our situation, Mathias and I could not suppress a harsh bark of laughter.

-

The sensation was deeply unsettling, even for one such as myself, whose soul had long danced upon the edges of sanity. Hours later, we arrived at Cold Creek, only to be met with an incongruous heat. I found myself tugging at the collar of my shirt, the cloak I had donned earlier discarded, sleeves now rolled up to my forearms. The sun's golden rays danced upon the crystalline waters of the creek, illuminating a scene that was both strangely serene and vivid. Butterflies flitted about, and the air was filled with the soft murmurs of fairies and the chittering of woodland creatures.

The peacefulness of the scene was more disturbing than comforting, and a tinge of melancholy clung to me. There had been no skirmishes, no bloodshed, no thrill to be had on our journey. The absence of danger felt more alien than the danger itself.

I crouched at the water's edge, fingers tentatively skimming the surface. The water was shockingly cold, sharp enough to pierce through my composure and with each touch, my thoughts spiraled into disarray. Flashes of blood-soaked conflict, the echoes of battle, and the visceral reality of death twisted through my mind. Laughter, too, resounded in the recesses of my mind—laughter directed at whom or what, I could not discern.

The tranquility of the scene was suddenly shattered when a smear of crimson swept past my fingers, only to vanish with a blink as if it were never there. I hissed in surprise, rising to my feet and surveying the surroundings with a wary gaze. The others, their expressions mirroring my own confusion, seemed as lost in this discordant reality as I was.

"Let us compile a list of potential adversaries, those who might bear ill will toward me." I declared with a laugh as I met their eyes. "Whoever is behind this chaos knows well that we are here. This war is not the work of some random stranger." I adjusted my glasses with a deliberate motion, my fingers brushing against the bridge of my nose. As I did, a fleeting vision of blood materialized before me, staining the air with its crimson hue before vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared.

"He is closer than we dare to imagine."