As we left the village, we were greeted by an immense forest, where the trees displayed deep blue leaves that seemed to whisper ancient secrets. The echo of the place enveloped us, as if welcoming us to a perdition disguised as beauty. I had to admit that it was a breathtaking landscape: from the singing of the birds to... well, Nimue's constant complaints, which more than beauty brought tiredness.
"You can tell from miles away that my mother doesn't love me," he said sarcastically, crossing his arms.
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, trying not to get her attention to avoid an unnecessary argument.
"It forces me to leave the village... of my house... and all to save the mother of a jerk like you! He spat, this time staring at me.
I sighed for a moment, deciding there was no need to respond.
"Do you know how to fight?" He asked me suddenly.
Damn, I had been caught in my tracks. He knew how to fight, yes, but only to a certain extent; outside the village, with weapons or powers, things changed a lot.
"Yes... "Of course I do..." I murmured, hesitating a little but hiding the truth.
"You don't seem very confident," he replied with a mocking smile.
"Come on, don't be like that, I'm the son of Toran himself, of course I know how to fight.
"Stupid.
"What do you say?"
"That I hate you."
"Perfect.
We continue the journey. I summoned the map with a simple snap of my fingers. I took a look at it. We were on the right track.
The weed gave off a fresh aroma that caressed your nostrils, like when your mother cooks that delicious dish that makes you leave everything you're doing just to enjoy that smell a little more.
"What does that stupid map say?" Nimue asked, approaching me for the first time.
"According to this," I said, as the magic map gradually formed. A red line shone over one of the roads, pointing out the route to follow. It was, literally, a GPS, but in a magical world.
"We must go the way to the right.
We stopped to look. But there was no visible path.
That's great. That's a pleasure.
"I knew that crap wouldn't do us any good," Nimue complained. Can't you create a better map?
"My father is the only one in the village who masters dark magic. I am her son, but I do not control her at all; in fact, I don't even know how to recite the spells," I replied sincerely.
The air grew thicker as we advanced, and the silence was broken only by the rustling of the branches under our feet and the distant song of some nocturnal bird. Moss covered the twisted roots of the trees, which rose like giant watchmen around us. From time to time, filtered sunlight slipped in timidly, creating dancing shadows that seemed to whisper forgotten secrets.
After a while, we arrived at a clearing where a couple of wooden signs stood battered. They were shattered, splintered at the edges, and stained with a dark color that I soon recognized as dried blood. A metallic smell, strong and unpleasant, hung in the air nearby.
Nimue walked over with a frown, watching the signs intently.
"Someone was here before us," he said, his voice gravely, "and things didn't end well.
My heart tightened a little. That forest that seemed so beautiful could hide dangers much closer than he wanted to admit.
"Let's go on, but carefully," I warned, as I looked down at the path marked by the signs, even though they were almost obliterated.
She nodded, and we resumed our march, this time alert to any strange sounds or movements that might lie in wait for us.
Meters ahead, we arrived at a small lake that seemed to be taken from a fairy tale. Its surface shone in the dim sunlight, with a color so transparent that it invited you to dive and refresh yourself without thinking twice. There were no recent traces of blood or signs of fighting in the vicinity, indicating that the dark spot on the signs was from a long time ago, perhaps days, months, or even years.
"A lake!" Nimue exclaimed with unexpected joy.
She left my side and shot out into the water, dropping her staff—or scepter, or whatever—on the grass. She crouched down by the shore, lifting her skirt slightly to be more comfortable.
"Hey, don't stop, there's no time," I said, stopping her gently.
"Shut up, weird oni," he replied with disgust. You don't see lakes this beautiful every day.
"But you live across from a lake," I objected.
"I've seen that lake very much, it was already getting boring," he replied. Also, because of the ethereal pollution in the village, the lake took on an ugly color.
I nodded. He was right, in the village the lake was not even the shadow of that hidden corner in the forest.
"Who would have thought, the angry Nimue is a fan of beautiful places with a relaxing aura," I said with a mocking smile.
"You don't know anything about me, jerk," he replied, staring at me disdainfully. So you better shut up.
Tension grew again between us as Nimue picked up her scepter from the ground. He didn't seem interested in sharing an ounce of complicity with me.
I sighed, resigned, and prepared to continue. The forest, with its blue-leaved trees and that silence that seemed to keep secrets, was simply watching us. There was no room for kind words, only to move forward.
"How long is left?" How much is left? How much is left? Nimue repeated like an insect buzzing near her ear. I didn't know if I wanted to hit her or cover my ears.
I sighed with resignation and unrolled the map delightedly. I got so close that I almost brushed it with my nose, as if that would change the answer.
"Let's see how I explain it to you..." We have to literally cross the entire human continent," I began, pointing to the red line that was drawn as we went. Then the colossus continent... and finally reach the Marino.
Nimue stared at me silently for a few seconds. His horrified face was so genuine that I almost laughed.
"How long are we talking about?" He asked, already knowing that he was not going to like the answer.
"Months," I said without embellishment.
She opened her mouth, but said nothing. She just rolled her eyes hard and snorted as if the air had betrayed her.
I, for my part, swallowed hard. It was ridiculous. We didn't know if Asha would last that long. The idea that every step we took was useless gnawed at me inside. But if we didn't try... if we simply accepted that he was going to die... So she was already dead from now on.
He had barely finished thinking about Asha when a strange sound broke the calm of the forest.
Loss, loss, loss...
Steps. Rapids. Coordinated. They were not human.
Nimue tensed instantly. His ears twitched slightly, trying to catch the exact direction of the noise. The echo echoed through the trees, as if several creatures were approaching from different directions. My body reflexively tensed, and my hands tightened around the empty sleeve on my hip. He hadn't even brought a gun.
"Have you heard that?" I whispered, without moving.
"Don't tell me you haven't heard it too, you imbecile," she replied, already taking her cane from the ground.
From the bush in front of us emerged first.
A dog. Or at least, that is what it seemed at first glance. It was large, the size of a grown deer, its skin pitch-black and completely stretched, as if someone had put it badly on its bones. Their legs were elongated and ended in arched claws like blades. But the worst thing was his eyes: he didn't have any. Just a smoldering hole in the middle of the face, like a crack open to the void.
And he was not alone.
Behind him came two others, the same ones, moving with a sickly synchronization, as if they shared a single thought.
"What the hell are those things?" I asked, taking a step back.
"Hounds of the abyss," Nimue said, her voice low but sharp. "They don't smell meat. They smell fear.
I swallowed hard.
"Well, we're screwed, because I'm scared to death right now."
One of the hounds snorted, and dark vapor came out of its thick snout. It was like breathing hate.
"Get ready," Nimue said, turning her staff and smashing it into the ground. The blue stone at the tip lit up suddenly. Because they have already seen us.
The first of them charged at me with the speed of an arrow.
"Nok Varra!" Zakk-torr! Nimue bellowed with an almost savage fury.
His staff vibrated in his hand as if he were alive, and a beam of green energy shot out from the gem at its tip. It was not a simple flash. It was a spear of pure destruction.
BOOM!
The hound that was lunging at me was split in two in the middle of the jump. His body fell to the ground with a wet, repulsive sound, the insides hanging down like grotesque noodles. The blood was thick and so dark blue that it looked like ink. It completely covered me. The face. The chest. The hands.
I stood motionless.
The scene stuck in my retina like a hot iron.
"Fuck... fuck... fuck! He repeated in a broken murmur, his breath broken. I looked at my bloody, trembling hands, unable to process if it was the blood that weighed me down... or fear.
My vision became blurry for a second. My heart was pounding hard in the chest, as if it wanted to get out of there before I did.
"Hey! Get up and fight, you fucking slacker! Nimue shouted unceremoniously, channeling another magical burst as she twirled on her heels with lethal precision.
His voice shook me. It pushed me like an invisible blow.
I got up, though my legs were trembling. Not because the fear had gone away, but because I understood that if I didn't move, if I didn't fight, I was going to die. And even worse: Nimue too.
I couldn't leave her alone. As much as I hated her.
Another of these hounds, more agile and thinner than the others, had been circling us, lurking with perverse intelligence. He lunged at me from an unexpected angle, quick as hunger. He wasn't looking to kill me... still. It sought to rip, slow me down, bite into my flesh and leave me bleeding in the mud.
I turned just in time. I wasn't faster than him, but I was fast enough. His claw brushed my side, ripping at my robe, and I kicked him back straight to the skull. My boots hit his jaw with a dull crack.
He groaned, backed away, but did not fall.
"Come, son of Toran!" Do something useful! Nimue snapped, now surrounded by the other two remaining hounds.
He could not throw fire, lightning or curses.
But he could fight.
I gritted my teeth, raised my fists, and lunged at the creature.
Not with force.
With rage.
"Shut up," I said, without thinking, my voice still trembling with adrenaline.
"Who do you tell to shut up, you piece of—
He did not finish the sentence.
A hound lunged at her with lightning speed. The impact was brutal. Nimue fell backwards and her staff rolled on the ground, moving away into the wet grass.
She was trapped under the weight of the monster. The hound—a deformed creature with a double maw, segmented eyes, and muscles tense like ropes—breathed on her, panting as if it already tasted the flesh in its mouth. Its claws pressed hard into Nimue's shoulders, pinning her down.
"You will be...!" Let me go, you filthy hound! He shouted, hitting him on the muzzle again and again.
But it was useless.
Each blow he gave seemed to infuriate the beast more. He did not move away. He did not retreat. He was just growling, threads of blue saliva falling from his crooked fangs.
I couldn't help her. Not yet.
The hound I had kicked was circling me again. His walk was slow, almost methodical. He analyzed me. He read me. It was not an animal. None of them were. They moved with chilling precision, as if someone—or something—was giving them orders from an invisible place.
They knew what they were doing.
Nimue screamed.
Not a cry of rage like the previous ones. This one was different. It was pure terror.
The hound had bitten his arm. Not deep enough to rip it out, but deep enough for blood to gush out in foamy streams.
"Aghh! My arm, fuck! He sobbed through his teeth.
I saw his legs twist, trying to kick the hound to no avail. Her entire body was shaking under the weight of the creature. His face had turned pale. I was on the edge.
I couldn't doubt any longer.
The hound around me lunged at me again, and this time, instead of dodging it, I lunged at it with the full weight of my body. We fell to the ground, rolling between stones and roots. I hit his muzzle with my elbow, then with my knee, then with my head. I didn't know exactly what I was doing, I just knew I had to push it away. He screamed like a savage, more out of desperation than courage.
With a final push I managed to break away and, without thinking, I ran to Nimue's staff.
I grabbed it.
It weighed more than I expected, and its surface was carved with symbols that were strange to me, even alive. I didn't know how it worked, I didn't know what to say, but I picked it up and pointed it at the hound that still had Nimue trapped.
"Zakk-torr!" I shouted, imitating how little I remembered of what she had said before.
But nothing. The only thing I managed to let go of was the bitter saliva and fear that I had choked in my throat.
Not a word of the spell came from my lips. My mind went blank, my tongue stuck, as if my consciousness had been ripped from me all at once.
I looked at the scepter in my hands... and I dropped it. Fuck it. If I wanted to save Nimue, I would have to do it my way. With fists.
"Agh! Let me go, you creep! she cried, stirring under the weight of the hound.
He had her completely immobilized. His front legs pressed against his shoulders with brutal force, while his jaws drooled a few inches from his neck. He growled, but not like an animal. It was more... conscious. As if he enjoyed it. As if he were playing with his prey.
I threw myself at him. Literally.
I jumped up and rammed the hound with the full weight of my body. We roll on the ground, among roots, mud and dry branches. I was slapped in the side, but I managed to hook his neck with my forearm. We struggle. He writhed like a cursed demon, letting out high-pitched, jerky growls.
"Nimue, the scepter!" I shouted, trying to keep him at bay.
She crawled as best she could to where her gun had fallen, still panting, still with blood on her clothes.
"Hold on for a second, fuck!" He answered, his voice breaking.
The hound hit me with one of its hind legs, straight in the stomach. It took my breath away, but I didn't let go of the hold. I couldn't. If he did, he would rip my face off.
Just as he was about to lose his strength, a greenish beam pierced the air, accompanied by a cry:
—¡Zakk'terr No'Varra!
The impact hit the hound's back, sending him ejected. It crashed into a tree, left a trail of green smoke and fell to the ground, motionless.
But we didn't have time to celebrate.
Howls. Two, three... five. More were coming. A lot more.
"We can't stay here!" I shouted, grasping the scepter with one hand and Nimue with the other.
She could barely run, she limped, she bled.
I threw it over my shoulder. It was not ideal, nor heroic. It was what it was. I ran like a soul carried by the devil, with her leaning on my back and her staff in my free hand. The adrenaline clouded everything.
We went through bushes, roots, branches that scratched my face. The howls followed behind, closer and closer.
In the end, when the legs could no longer take it anymore, we found a natural crack between two large rocks. I got in there with her, fitting in as best we could, holding my breath.
The hounds passed by.
For now.
"Don't you plan to cast a healing spell or something?" I said, breathless, leaning against the stone.
He nodded with a slight, barely audible gesture.
"T-you've got a reason... Oh! He groaned in pain as he brought his hand close to the wound.
He placed his palm on the cut and recited in a broken voice:
"May health accompany your soul and your wounds be marks of the past... Healing!
A green light enveloped the area. Gradually, the bleeding stopped, and the flesh began to close.
I fell on my back, with my head resting on the rock. He was drenched in sweat and dirt.
"Those bugs weren't normal," I murmured.
"Have you noticed it too?" He answered, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. They moved as if... as if they thought. Coordinated. Like soldiers.
"I'm glad to hear that I'm not crazy.
Without warning, he slapped me in the face.
"Hey! But what the...?
I looked at her. She was red, but not from rage. It seemed more... Uncomfortable.
—G-graaa… grac…
"Thank you?" I asked, surprised.
"You're welcome!" He snapped, turning his face with absurd pride.
Smiled. Just a little. Not because I liked him better. But because she was alive.
And that was already a miracle.
We were in that hole for a while. The air was thick, almost unbreathable, laden with dirt, humidity, and the faint metallic smell of blood.
Apparently, my old phobias had not stayed in the other world. They were still here, lurking as if not a day had passed. Claustrophobia was beginning to wreak havoc.
I felt my chest close. The air cost me twice as much. It wasn't fear. It was anxiety, pure and simple.
I began to breathe heavily, with short, breathy gasps. I put my hand to my chest, uselessly, as if I was going to get more oxygen in.
"What's wrong with you now?" Nimue asked, in a dry tone but with a look that she didn't know if it was annoyance or concern.
He looked at my side. My clothes were soaked in blood. The soil too. It was still dripping, little by little, like a poorly closed tap.
"Is it because of that wound?" He insisted.
I tried to answer, but nothing. The words did not come out. I shook my head, simply. It wasn't that. Or not at all.
I knew we couldn't get out yet. It was too early. We had to hold on for a few more minutes, just a little longer, to make sure the hounds didn't catch us coming out. But the body did not understand logic. The body only wanted air.
"Let's get out of here and run away," Nimue said, impatiently.
"N-it's not b..." I tried to speak, but I was out of breath. The syllables were cut off halfway.
She had been the first to enter. So, to get out, it was my turn first.
I took a breath. One, two, three attempts.
Dragging myself around, I began to move through the tiny space until I managed to get out completely. My arms were shaking. My legs are the same.
I fell to my knees on the ground. Literally. With his palms resting, his forehead almost touching the earth. I wanted to hug the ground as if it were a lifeline.
And we had only been there for a few minutes.
Just a few damn minutes.
Nimue, now recomposed after using her healing spell, emerged from the hole with all the dignity in the world. He was neither limping nor did he seem to have gone through a fatal attack. As if nothing had happened. He folded his arms and stood, staring at me with a raised eyebrow as I was still half-collapsed on the floor, like an idiot, panting from being locked up.
—Fear of enclosed spaces? Toran's son? he asked, and this time, for the first time, without a mocking tone. Just curiosity. Genuine.
I nodded, without looking at her.
"Yes. I can't handle that kind of site... It surpasses me.
He was silent for a few seconds. Then he let out a light sigh and murmured:
"Heh... Well, there are two of us," he replied, looking out over the forest.
I raised my head, surprised. I hadn't heard her say anything so... human since we left the village.
I didn't say anything else. Nor was it necessary.
I put my hand to my side, feeling the blood stain my fingers completely. "You could—" I murmured, pointing to the wound in a weak, broken voice.
The brief moment of humanity vanished suddenly. Nimue shook her head, moving it from side to side, as if listening to me was a punishment. "Try to heal it yourself," she said, her tone resigned.
"I have no healing powers," I replied, trying to sit up, but the attempt was futile. Kneeling had been a mistake.
Nimue put a hand to her mouth feigning exaggerated surprise. Doesn't Toran's son himself know how to do magic? Go... what a shame," he blurted out, with sarcasm.
I felt the blood boil in my veins. His words were beginning to feel unbearable. What obsession did he have with calling me "the son of Toran"?
—First: I have a name. Second: I don't think my ability is to heal," I replied, my voice firmer than I felt.
"Magic is not based on whether you have the ability or not, but rather on sinking your elbows, studying and practicing," he replied, crossing his arms, with that air of superiority that he hated so much.
"Fuck you," I blurted out, already exhausted.
She simply shrugged her shoulders and, without giving me a glance, began to heal the wound.
He recited the same spell he used with his own wound: "May health accompany your soul and your wounds be marks of the past...
A bright and warm green light emerged from his palm, which slid to my sides. I saw how the cuts closed little by little, and the blood stopped flowing. I felt a strange tingle, as if the skin was stretching to put itself together.
"If I let you die, Mom and your father would kill me," he murmured in an almost amused tone as he finished.
I nodded, relieved and grateful for his help. I hope you maintain that logic throughout the journey.
"Tsk! I hate you!" he exclaimed, rising suddenly and walking again. Do you realize that you are not going anywhere? Bah, let's let her have fun for a while.
He stopped short and turned to me. "This—where are we going?" he asked, frowning.
I remembered that if I used the map too much, it could kill me, but I didn't know how true that would be. Luckily, I remembered the route we should go.
"It's a little further on, then we turn right," I said, pointing half-heartedly. "Well, then move," she replied, without waiting any longer.
I sat up from the ground, shaking off the pebbles and dirt that had been trapped in my clothes. You could say that I just created a small rocky beach with everything that fell from between my legs.