Nyx ran as fast as his weakened body allowed, his breath ragged and shallow. Every muscle in his legs burned, and each step felt heavier than the last. He was exhausted—completely drained from hunger, thirst, and fear that hadn't let up since the scream had torn through the night.
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, dry as sand. His stomach ached, hollow and tight. Yet none of it compared to the ache gnawing at his chest: the dread of being hunted by something that wasn't supposed to exist.
Please, he prayed silently, please, Goddess, let those people have water. Let them have something—anything—that can protect us. A sword. A staff. A miracle.
It was all he could do now: run and pray. Because deep down, he knew he didn't have much time left in him. His legs would give out eventually. His breath would falter. And when it did, if those monsters caught up to him—
He shook the thought away, refusing to let it grow roots.
These humans ahead of him were the only hope he had left. The forest was too quiet, too unnatural, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. There was no wind. No rustle. No life.
Even hope felt like a fragile illusion here.
'Hey, Love…' he thought quietly, too scared to speak aloud. 'Do you think those two people can defeat the monsters?'
He didn't dare make a sound. Even a whisper felt dangerous in this dead forest. He wasn't sure if his voice would echo—but he didn't want to find out. Not with creatures that could smell blood.
There was a pause before Love answered, her voice soft and uncertain.
[I… I can't sense any magic core in them.]
Her hesitation made his stomach drop.
[So… most likely, they're just commoners. And it takes more than ten commoners to kill even one bloodsucker.]
Nyx's pace faltered.
His legs stumbled slightly, and his breath hitched. His chest tightened as cold fear licked up his spine. His skin went pale, and a tear appeared on the side of an eye.
They can't help me…
He slowed to a stop, bending forward and bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to breathe. His lungs sucked in air greedily, but it didn't feel like enough. It never felt like enough.
Love remained silent for a while, the quiet between them thick with despair.
Then, she spoke again, her voice soft, almost pleading.
[Don't lose hope… There might be—]
"Just be quiet for a minute," Nyx snapped.
His voice echoed, loud and sharp against the silence of the trees. He didn't care.
Love fell silent immediately. No sarcasm. No mocking.
Just silence.
Nyx stood there, breathing heavily, trying to think, to plan, to stop shaking. He wiped the tear from his cheek roughly, smearing dirt and sweat across his face.
After a long pause, he asked again, his voice quieter this time. "Love… how long until those two reach me?"
A few seconds passed before she answered.
[If they're just walking and wasting time, maybe fifteen minutes. If they're serious and moving with purpose… seven.]
He nodded to himself, lips dry and cracked.
"So I have seven minutes," he muttered.
He straightened his back and started running again.
And just as he pushed through a thick curtain of leaves—he saw it.
A faint shimmer.
Light. A glint of something metal.
People. Or at least, someone.
His heart surged with renewed urgency. Whatever strength he had left, he used it to sprint toward that fragile, flickering hope.
---
A carriage moved steadily along the lonely forest road, its wooden wheels creaking softly against the dirt path. It was an elegant vehicle, crafted with care and adorned with subtle gold accents that shimmered faintly in the starlight. The wood was polished and dark, the windows trimmed with delicate carvings. It was the kind of carriage owned by someone of considerable wealth—perhaps a noble or a successful merchant—but not quite lavish enough for royalty. Refined, yes, but not ostentatious.
Two strong horses, dark as the shadows that draped the forest, pulled it with a calm, steady pace. Their hooves made rhythmic thuds against the packed earth, the only real sound in the heavy stillness of the night.
On either side of the road, the forest loomed—tall, gnarled trees stretching skyward like blackened fingers. Their thick canopies blocked out even the moonlight that wasn't there, casting long, warped shadows that twisted and crawled across the ground. The trunks stood close together, crowded in dense formations that seemed to close in tighter the deeper one looked.
The air was heavy with the scent of damp moss and old bark. Every now and then, a low creak echoed from the woods, the sound of shifting branches or something else unseen. No birds sang. No insects chirped. The only signs of life were the quiet breath of the horses and the low hum of the carriage's motion.
There are two lanterns inside and outside the carriage. Only source of light in this moonless night and scary dark forest.
There was the kind of silence that didn't feel natural.
The kind that pressed against your skin and made you listen harder, just in case you weren't as alone as you thought.
The road continued forward, winding gently but purposefully, threading its way through the blackened maze of trees. It felt like the forest was watching, waiting. And the carriage, small and fragile in comparison, moved forward unaware of what might be lurking in the dark.
The carriage moved in steady silence along the narrow, winding road. Its wheels creaked softly against the packed dirt, the sound nearly swallowed by the thick, oppressive darkness that cloaked the forest on either side. Towering trees loomed like sentinels, their twisted limbs forming gnarled canopies above, blotting out what little starlight pierced the clouded sky. Shadows stretched long across the road, swaying slightly with the wind like reaching hands. The deeper they went, the quieter the world became—no chirping insects, no rustling leaves, just the gentle clatter of the carriage and the occasional snort from the horses.
At the front of the carriage sat a sturdy, middle-aged man wrapped in a thick cloak. He held the reins loosely in one hand, guiding the horses with the easy rhythm of someone long used to long travels. His name was Willem Grast.
Inside the carriage, resting against a velvet cushion, was a well-dressed man with short, slicked-back hair and a sharp jawline. His name was Edric Vaulden, an accountant traveling toward the capital for royal business. He leaned closer to the small window and called out with a hint of impatience, "Hey, Willem! How much longer until we reach the capital?"
Willem gave a half-smile, not turning around as he answered, "Sir, we've been on this road for over six glims now. By my estimation, I'd say a glim and a half more—maybe a little less if the path stays clear."
Edric leaned back with a sigh. His voice lowered, uneasy. "Let's get out of this forest as soon as possible. It's giving me... a strange feeling."
Willem chuckled, the sound light and reassuring. "Sir, if we keep chatting like this, the time will fly by. A bit of talk to lighten the mood never hurt anyone."
Edric gave a faint smile. "Yes, yes, you're right. Just... I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the crown prince's announcement and the royal feast. Honestly, if not for that, I'd never have taken this cursed route."
He laughed nervously and continued, "We already walked straight into that gods-forsaken Wailborn's Hollow Howl village. We were lucky to leave before nightfall. Even thinking about that place gives me chills."
"Yes, Sir Edric," Willem replied, shaking his head with a dry laugh. "Had to turn back and take the longer road because of that, but let's not think on it too much. Better we talk of something cheerful, hmm?"
Edric nodded. "Ah, yes. I heard your wife gave birth recently? A daughter, wasn't it?"
Willem's face brightened at the mention. "Aye, sir! My son's got a little sister now. We named her Aisha. She's beautiful—got my wife's eyes."
"Aisha Grast," Edric said with a warm smile. "That's a lovely name."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're so greedy, Willem," Edric said with a teasing grin, resting comfortably inside the carriage. "You've just had a newborn baby girl back home, and yet here you are—traveling with me to the capital in pursuit of gold and glory."
He let out a hearty laugh that echoed softly inside the carriage.
Willem, seated outside on the driver's perch, chuckled along. The reins in his hands shifted slightly as he smiled at the road ahead. "Ha ha… What can I say, sir? The temptation was too great to resist. The emperor himself is announcing the crown prince, and he's summoned the wealthiest and most powerful figures in the empire to witness it. That kind of opportunity doesn't come often."
Edric nodded from within, his voice light but understanding. "You're right. Anyone who manages to show face at such a grand gathering—among so many nobles and lords—is bound to turn a tidy profit."
Willem laughed in agreement. "Exactly, sir! And in the end, all this effort—it's for our families, isn't it? Every coin we earn is for our children. They're the ones who'll truly benefit from it all."
Edric's tone softened slightly with a warm chuckle. "You've got that right. When there's a new baby in the house, you need more than just love to raise her. You need coin. A lot of it. For her food, her clothes, her future..."
He trailed off with a thoughtful smile.
Willem's voice drifted in gently from outside. "Aye, and that's why I'm here—so little Aisha can grow up with everything she needs. It's a father's duty, after all."
"You know, you should—"
A shrill, unnatural scream tore through the night.
Edric's words froze on his lips. The scream was distant, faint—but it was like nothing human. It rose in pitch with a guttural rasp, then fell into a whispering echo that seemed to travel between the trees.
A cold shiver ran down both men's spines.
Willem straightened in his seat, tense. Edric leaned closer to the window again, his breath held tight in his throat.
The scream faded, replaced by an unsettling silence—but the damage was done. Their horses had heard it too.
The beasts let out frantic, panicked whinnies. Their eyes went wide with terror, and they began to stomp and rear violently. Willem shouted and yanked the reins, trying to calm them, but another scream cam. Then another. And another.
The horses snapped.
With wild, frightened screams, they reared up, hooves striking the air. In their frenzy, they yanked hard against the wooden yoke, splintering the harness that connected them to the carriage. With one final burst of panic, they tore free and bolted into the trees, disappearing into the black forest.
"Willem! The horses!" Edric shouted, stumbling as the carriage jolted in place.
Willem jumped down from the front, staring helplessly into the darkness where the horses had vanished. The sound of breaking branches echoed through the woods, then faded into silence.
The two men stood frozen.
Now, they were alone. A broken carriage. The heart of the forest. Midnight. No moonlight.
Willem turned toward the trees, his hand already gripping the small dagger at his side. Edric remained half inside the carriage, trembling as he slowly sat down.
Neither of them spoke.
The forest around them breathed with unnatural stillness.
It felt like something was watching.
---
More than two hours had passed since the horses fled into the darkness. The forest remained as deathly silent as it had been when the screams first echoed through it. Willem and Edric now sat huddled inside the broken carriage, both of them silent, tense, and shivering not just from the cold—but from the weight of dread that pressed on them like a shroud.
They had pulled the doors shut and secured them from the inside, using belts, ropes, and layers of cloth to seal every gap. The carriage interior, once built for comfort, now resembled a makeshift bunker. Not a flicker of fire burned inside; they hadn't even considered lighting one. They knew better. In a place like this, fire wasn't warmth—it was a beacon. It would draw every living—or unliving—thing in the forest straight to them.
So they sat in the dark, side by side on the floor of the carriage, trying not to breathe too loudly. Neither of them dared speak. Even their breathing had grown shallow and slow, as though the very air could betray them.
Outside, the forest stretched like a grave, still and undisturbed. But then—something broke the silence.
Footsteps.
They came from the direction of the capital city road, rapid and uneven, as if someone were running—no, fleeing—down the narrow, moonless path.
The moment they heard it, both men froze.
Their hearts pounded wildly in their chests, louder than drums in their own ears. They didn't move. They didn't peek through the cloth. They didn't whisper to one another. Both knew the truth, unspoken but understood: no sane person ran down this forsaken road in the middle of the night. Not unless they were being chased by something far worse than the darkness.
The footsteps drew closer, crunching on dry earth and brittle leaves. Whoever—or whatever—it was, it was fast.
Closer.
Closer.
And then… they stopped.
Right beside the carriage.
For a few terrifying moments, the only sound was the desperate gasping of someone—or something—trying to catch its breath just outside. Ragged, hoarse breathing. Too loud. Too close.
Willem instinctively placed a hand over his dagger. Edric squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath.
Then came the unmistakable sound—slow, deliberate footsteps circling the carriage.
Tak... tak... tak...
A hand brushed against the side. Then…
Knock knock knock.
Three sharp knocks on the wooden door. And then a voice.
A man's voice.
"Hey! I'm human! Please—open up if you want to live!"