Shifting Fates: Veil of the Forgotten

Ch. 4 : Weaver

Ch. 4

"Weaver"

The man moves slowly, deliberately, as if searching for something hidden in the moving shadows. What could possibly hold his attention so fiercely? There is a weight in the air now, crackling with intensity, and my skin crawls. The bitter tang of power fills the atmosphere as it mingles with the overpowering scent of mint — crisp and disorienting.

Shit, how did I miss that? My heart pounds — adrenaline surging through my veins, mixing with the stationary cold inside as the feeling of danger rises. My instincts scream, on the verge of going hoarse, wailing over and over, but yet, I am rooted in place. My curiosity compelling me to stay and uncover the secrets around me, secrets I am dying to know.

The shadows creep closer, wrapping around the tree I am perched in like a predator pursuing some prey. The man's brows furrow as he studies something on the ground, his focus intense. He appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties — a naïve thought given the harsh tang in the air. An intoxicating, bitter scent of power that tells a different story, one far beyond any mere mortal. I narrow my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of his ears — could he be fae? There are no flickering fae lights attracted to his spirit, only the stifling shroud of shadows that feels alive, breathing closer to me. They thicken and gather, forming as one, and panic surges through my veins. I try to steel myself, recalling my training, but if I had hands in this form, they would be trembling.

The air is thick with palpable tension, a suffocating weight closing in on all sides. The shadows around the man begin to flow violently, full and meandering, like the pack of Varcolacs earlier, swirling like a living entity. A shiver runs down me as the shadows expand, darting down the tree with a desperation that makes my breath catch. My body goes rigid, frozen in place, as fear oozes from every pore. I struggle to steady my breathing, but the weight of the shadows is suffocating.

The man continues scanning the ground, intent on tracking something unseen. My heart races, pounding against my ribcage like the caged beast just behind my mental door, a primal instinct urging me to flee. The frantic shadows surge and coat the man, merging with his cloak. The man touches the earth, then hesitates, casually glancing in my direction. His cerulean eyes flicker with some kind of recognition as they lock onto mine, and a cold wave washes over me, again stealing the air from my lungs. I fight the urge to retreat, forcing myself to remain still, every nerve ending tingling with an electric strain.

Just as I think I might break, one rebellious lurking shadow brushes my wing, with a warm, soft caress, that sends a jolt coursing through me. In an instant, the shadow races down the tree to its master, leaving me a trembling mess.

The branch creaks beneath me as my muscles shake with the effort to remain still. The man's nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, his expression impassive, yet there is a subtle hint in cerulean eyes — a glimmer of awareness that suggests he knows something far beyond my reach. I can't quite place it, but it buzzes with unspoken knowledge, and the suspense coils tighter with every breath I struggle to get out.

Just as I feel my lungs might snap, the man finally breaks our silent battle of stares, and at that moment, I sense something in his parting gaze. Does he sense what I truly am? What I am hiding from the world that wriggles in the depths of my mind, just under my skin? A thought crosses my mind — could the deities of fate be playing a dangerous game I have yet to understand?

He waves his hands at the shadows, which writhe and twist around him, hissing softly as they slice through the night.

A low, mournful wail echoes from deeper within the forest, a haunting sound that sends icy shivers coursing down my spine, that battles the growing cold under my skin. The man straightens, his focus sharpening as the shadows, reluctantly, retract, though only slightly, as if pausing, waiting for something.

The man turns and begins to walk away, drawn by the weeping sound that must have been what he initially sought after. The darkness follows him, trailing shadows — an inseparable companion. But as the man moves, the shadows linger for a moment, almost hesitant, as if caught in a moment of uncertainty. I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my ears, watching as the man glances back at me and then to the shadows, waiting for them to catch up.

Why do they disobey their oblivious master? A shiver runs across my skin, and I can sense their indecision, a flicker of a will, not aligned with the man's. When the shadows finally encase the man, I exhale the breath I have been holding, my chest tugging against my ribs as a mixture of relief and dread wash over me.

My mind races with questions. Who was this man? What was he searching for? What made that haunting sound? Those shadows moved, flowed with a mind of their own, coiling around him like a viper. They were unlike anything I have ever encountered. My breath shakes as I ponder the depths of this power.

I need to move to uncover the reason behind this man's presence, but my instincts cling to their screams — to hide, to run. My wings tremble as I shift my weight, the branch creaking underneath me.

The man's eyes snap toward me, narrowing with suspicion. Panic surges through like wildfire, or a blizzard gives my record. The man takes a step forward, the soft crunch of fallen leaves and the squelch of mud under his heavy boots. He pauses, shadows swirling closer to his face as if whispering secrets only he can hear. Then our gaze lock, igniting that battle once, his cerulean eyes piercing through the darkness, searching.

With a dismissive wave, he shoos the shadows away and resumes his path back toward the haunting noise that initially drew him here. The man and shadows slowly disappear out of view. I need to discover what lies ahead, to understand this enigma before me, yet every nerve in this form cries for caution.

I wait, counting seven heartbeats, before the tension mounts until I can't bear it any longer. The forest holds its breath, mirroring my own anticipation, waiting for the next revelation in this tangled web of darkness and curiosity.

Am I the spider, the web weaver of this unknown plan, or just a moth drawn to an innocent-looking place to land? I shake my head, desperate to dispel the thoughts of any more insects. I must tread carefully — the forest is alive with secrets, and I fear I am teetering on the edge of something I may not be ready to face.

Sounds fun. My mind echoes as a smile moves across my face.