The morning air was sharp with tension as the villagers gathered in the square. The forest, now only a stone's throw from the outermost cottages, loomed over them like a dark sentinel. Its presence felt alive, oppressive, and malevolent. The villagers huddled close, their breath misting in the crisp air as heated arguments broke out among them.
"We have no choice," shouted Maksym, his voice cutting through the din. "If we don't fight back, the forest will swallow us whole!"
"And how do you propose we fight a curse?" snapped Halyna, the baker's wife, her face pale with fear. "It's not wolves or bandits we're dealing with—it's something unnatural!"
Petro raised his hands to quiet them, his aged face drawn with worry. "Enough," he commanded, though his voice lacked its usual strength. "We must decide together. Do we confront this evil or abandon the village?"
A murmur rippled through the crowd, uncertainty thick in the air. Families clutched one another, their faces etched with despair. The thought of leaving their homes, their land, their lives behind was unthinkable, yet so was facing the Drowned Forest.
Lybid stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. "We need answers, not panic. There are stories—legends of what lies within the forest. If we understand its origins, perhaps we can find a way to stop it."
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Maksym challenged, his arms crossed. "You want to stroll into the forest and have a chat with the spirits?"
"If that's what it takes," Lybid shot back, her gaze unwavering. "I had a dream last night—a vision. A woman spoke to me, warning of the forest's curse. She said the answers lie beneath the surface."
The crowd exchanged nervous glances, some murmuring prayers, others whispering about witchcraft. Petro's brow furrowed deeply. "A vision? Dreams can be tricks of the mind, Lybid."
"And yet the forest moves," she countered. "Something is happening, Elder. We can't ignore it."
Maksym stepped forward, his expression hard. "Then let those who believe in dreams go. But I say we burn the cursed woods before they take more of us."
A shocked silence followed his words, broken only by the soft cries of a child clinging to her mother's skirts. Halyna shook her head. "Fire won't save us. It'll anger whatever lives in there."
"And running will do better?" Maksym retorted.
Petro raised his voice, firm this time. "Enough! There will be no fire, not yet. We cannot risk provoking something we don't understand."
He turned to Lybid, his eyes heavy with concern. "If you truly believe there's a way to find answers, then go. But take care. The forest is no place for the unprepared."
Lybid nodded, her resolve solidifying. "I won't go alone," she said, scanning the crowd. "If we're to save Myrnyi, we need knowledge—and courage. Who will join me?"
The villagers shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze.
Finally, a voice broke the silence.
"I'll go," a young deacon said, stepping forward. His tone was gruff, but his eyes held a flicker of grudging respect. "If there's a way to stop this, only with Christ's behest."
Deacon Methodius was a devout man in traditional catholic clothes and with a golden cross hanging on his neck in the middle of his liturgical vestments. Cross had a red topaz-like core in the middle, almost the size of human's blood drop.
Everyone looked at him with a deep shock in their eyes.
Lybid nodded, hiding her surprise. "Then we leave at first light."
As the villagers dispersed, the weight of their decision hung heavy over the square. Lybid stared at the forest's edge, the whispers just beyond her hearing now feeling like a challenge. The journey ahead would test them all—and the cost of failure was unthinkable.