Affinity

Chapter 4

Later that night, my dreams pull me to the edge of a dense, menacing forest that feels disturbingly familiar. Under the cold glow of a full moon, shadows twist and flicker across the gnarled trees, deepening the sense of unease. Peering into the darkness, I catch sight of an ancient gate, half-hidden against the jagged mountainside. The gate, wrought from dark iron, looms ominously before me, adorned with carvings of mythical beasts and twisted symbols. My heart races as a chilling dread washes over me, urging me to comprehend what lies beyond.

As I move closer, the gate seems to pulse with an energy that sends shivers down my spine, heavy with untold secrets. It whispers to me in the silence, the air around it charged with an almost tangible force, making my pulse quicken with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The intricate carvings shift in the moonlight, their forms writhing as though they possess a life of their own. Despite the fear tightening in my chest, something irresistibly pulls me toward it.

Every instinct screams at me to turn back, yet I stand frozen, unable to tear my gaze away. There's something hauntingly alluring about the gate, as if it beckons, begging me to uncover its hidden truths. My hand reaches out before I can stop it, fingers trembling as they hover near its surface. My vision blurs, and just before darkness swallows me, I catch one final, haunting glimpse—the symbols etched into the iron flare with a faint, sinister glow, as if the gate itself is alive, waiting.

***

I bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding like a war drum. A scream is lodged in the back of my throat, but it stubbornly refuses to come out. Great. Just what I needed—another nightmare to add to the ever-growing collection. The image of the gate clings to my mind. I glance toward the window, where the full moon's silver light floods the room, casting long, distorted shadows. The familiar furniture warps into dark shapes, transforming my space into a shadowy, dreamlike landscape.

For the next hour, I toss and turn, wrestling with fragments of the dream that just won't let go. My heart continues its frantic beat, like it's trying to make a break for it. Every time I close my eyes, that hauntingly beautiful gate reappears. I try to push it away, but my curiosity keeps tugging at me like an invisible thread, pulling me back to it.

Eventually, I give up—sleep's overrated anyway. Curiosity wins. I have to face that gate; it's calling to me, like something just out of reach. With a sigh, I pull on leather trousers and a thick woolen tunic. The fabric's cold but oddly comforting. I grab my dagger, its weight familiar in my hand, and throw a cloak over my shoulders, its dark fabric melting into the shadows. The window creaks as I ease it open—because, of course, no adventure starts without a dramatic exit.

Climbing out, the cold night air instantly sharpens my senses. As I venture into the forest, the undergrowth closes in around me, and every sound is amplified—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirps of insects, and the occasional snap of a twig. The forest hums with life, but the silence is deafening. Dim light filters through the canopy, casting eerie silver and charcoal patterns on the forest floor.

I can't explain how I know where to go. It's like an internal compass—or maybe I'm just a moth being drawn to an unseen flame. Everything blurs together in the darkness; familiar landmarks vanish, and the towering trees loom like ancient sentinels, their sprawling roots creating natural traps. If I make it through without twisting an ankle, that'll be a small miracle.

As I push deeper, the trees thicken, I'm barely able to see my hands. Relying purely on instinct, I hope that it's not just a figment of my imagination.

What could possibly go wrong?

Finding my way back will be a nightmare, I suddenly regret not leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for my fairy tale adventure. The situation is so absurd that a laugh escapes me before I quickly slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the sound. The echo lingers, bouncing between the trees—a stark reminder of just how alone I truly am.