Fantasy: The Beginning of the End

Fantasy: The Beginning of the End - Z. Smith - Part One: The End - Chapter Seven

The sun had already begun to rise when I returned to the forest. I dared not wake Darius and Leta, who were still sleeping by the smoldering remains of the forlorn campfire. Ash drifted and rose with the chilly winter wind, which whispered softly through golden waves of grass. Despite my duty as a ranger of the Kingdom of Men, despite my friendship to Darius, and despite my oath to see Princess Leta to the gates of Fairytale, the calling from deep in the forest was a tongue greater than the promises in my heart. The shadows of the trees beckoned to me, and I could do nothing but answer the call.

I retraced our steps from the previous night, noting snapped branches and trampled grass and leaves underfoot. The trees grew further apart, the melancholy melody pulling me deeper toward the center of the forest. I expected any moment to see the docile, ancient hamlet, the pleasant and carefree villagers, and the pastel green eyes of Death herself. But such wishful thinking was not reality, and the sickening orchestra grated against my skull as a lone, feral house stood waiting for me in the center of the clearing.

blaise

I started at the name nearly beyond the edge of hearing, the voice speaking from somewhere far away, and yet I knew, beyond the heavy, imposing door of the house before me, he waited. Despite the masses of ivy and thorns ravaging the outside of the once-proud stone manor, shadows lurked just beyond the broken window panes. The blackened, musty remains of the windows were baleful eyes staring unblinking, hungry; the mutilated, ages-old door held back the mighty maw of a terrible and sinister beast.

I felt I was no longer alone in this dreaded place, and I at once ran from the hulking, malevolent monstrosity. No, not ran—fled. Something awful was chasing me through the black boughs, though I dared not turn to see my pursuer. I could hear him coming closer; trees thrashed in the dark. My heart ached from the intensity of its beating, and my legs felt weighted down and sluggish when I had need of them most. My pursuer screamed at me—a long, mindless, animal bellow of rage. But the edge of the forest was just in sight! Daylight broke from the trees overhead, and I staggered forward toward the golden rays of my salvation.

I found the campsite to be empty; the fire was nothing but ash, and my friends were nowhere to be seen. Desperately, I searched the amber fields in panic, wishing for the faintest sign of Darius and Princess Leta. My gaze instead fell on a lonely, black figure standing some distance away out on the plains. While I could not see any distinctive features of the forlorn aberration, I saw a black cloak billowing in the arctic air, and its face was covered by a glinting, pale mask. The stranger stood stoically in the midst of the never-ending fields of gilt, waiting as patiently for me as the abhorrent ones behind me. A low, murderous growl was all the warning I had before they were on me.

"Blaise!" Darius screamed, his weight on me as I unconsciously thrashed on the cold, rough ground. "Blaise, wake up, please!"

I awoke to my gray-eyed friend pinning me down with obvious difficulty, though I lay beneath him calm yet aching. Darius panted slightly, his chest heaving from the effort and perhaps adrenaline. Distantly, I felt the rapid drumming of my heart bouncing around in my chest. Beyond Darius' shaking countenance was a lazy, benign, gray sky.

Apparently satisfied that I would move no more, Darius slid off me and collapsed onto his side, looking shell-shocked. Behind him, across an eerily familiar ashen corpse of a fire pit, Princess Leta stared at me in alarm; her lips were half-parted in numb confusion, but when my gaze met her own, her jaw snapped shut and Leta swiftly looked away.

"What happened?" I groaned, immediately regretting sitting upright; my arms and legs ached, and I wondered if I had really torn through the forest in my nightmare.