Orin could feel the mud soaking through his trousers and the creeping cold against his skin. His heart hammered, his lungs burned, and a sharp metallic taste filled his mouth. Branches whipped across his face, leaving fresh tracks of blood, but he didn't dare slow. The sound of footsteps behind him pressed closer. He focused on one desperate hope, the clearing beyond the winding creek. 'Just a few hundred meters more,' he consoled himself.
He burst through the final curtain of dense branches, expecting an open sky. Instead, a heavy silence met him, completely devoid of life. His hammering heart stopped. The clearing wasn't there. Before him stood the Cursed Forest. Trees with branches twisted like skeletal fingers clawed at a perpetually dim sky. A cold dread, deeper than the forest's chill, seeped into Orin. He didn't know how he'd lost his way. His desperate run had taken a cruel turn.
He let out a bitter laugh, which was swallowed quickly by the forest's thick silence. 'Am I really going to die here?' He thought, the truth settling sharply in his chest. Behind him, a brutal end awaited; before him stood this damned cursed forest, from which no one ever returned. It's a choice between two certain deaths.
The thumps of footsteps behind him grew louder and closer. Then, a voice, raw with triumph, cut through the oppressive quiet. "Stop, boy! This pathetic run ends now!"
Another yelled, "Today's the day all this bullshit finally dies with you!"
Orin didn't hesitate. He clenched his jaw, fierce determination hardening his eyes. Death was certain, but he would choose his own end. He looked at the satisfied faces of his pursuers. Despite the grim certainty of death, fifteen-year-old Orin's heart was strangely calm. He had seen enough and lost all that mattered. Death would be a relief. With eyes filled with disdain, he growled at his pursuers.
"I have no grudges with you, yet you chased me like dogs! If I don't die today, I'll come back for all of you someday."
With a cold, murderous laugh, he plunged into the abyssal darkness of the forest. His cold words lingered behind him: "Let's see who pays you without my dead body!"
"He actually went in?" One of the hunters muttered, disbelief thick in his tone. "That kid's walking straight to his grave."
They exchanged uneasy glances. The forest's deadly reputation wasn't just stories.
"Doesn't matter," growled their leader, eyes darting into the darkness. "Lusk wants proof. We can't go back empty handed."
He sneered at the creepy stillness. "Maybe he's hiding just near the edge. Let's block the perimeter and wait. He'll crawl out soon."
Inside the forest, the air grew suffocating. Orin's eyes strained against the pitch-black void that swallowed him whole. Every step pulled him deeper into the whispered legend. The forest's dark reputation flooded his mind.
He remembered the stories. Twelve years ago, explorers vanished here. Search teams followed and never came back. Even scientists with their machines disappeared, their radios dying the moment they crossed the edge.
The government, in a last, desperate act to save its citizens from seeking death, erected a mighty fence around the Cursed Forest. But the fence crumbled to dust within a single day, leaving only scattered splinters. The forest seemed to hate being observed. It was alive... and furious.
Orin forced his breath steady as he plunged deeper into the choking black. His wide eyes couldn't see anything. The darkness pressed like a living thing against his skin. Roots writhed beneath his feet. Branches lashed his face. Invisible dangers nudged him off course, tripping him into cold mud.
Beneath him, the earth vibrated with strange rumbles. Whirs and clicks echoed from the deep darkness. These sounds were neither from beast nor machine, but something twisted in between. A shrill, metallic scream shattered the silence, followed by another, closer this time. A cold shiver ran down Orin's spine. The forest's atmosphere filled with dread. Invisible eyes watched from the shadows, waiting.
The rain fell ruthlessly without any intention to stop. The storm raged with a fury beyond anything Orin had ever heard. Lightning ripped through the canopy. Thunder shook the earth. He stumbled onward, lost and desperate for the exit from the forest. He lost track of the time. The trees were blocking all the sunlight, and there was no way to track the day and night. Hunger gnawed, and cold seeped deep into his bones. Shivering, he collapsed beneath a massive tree, gasping shallow breaths.
Yet, far deeper in the forest, someone else endured a misery even greater. Someone had endured it for centuries.
In the heart of the forest, a small cliff defied the storm. It was under constant bombardment, with thousands of lightning strikes per minute. The end of the world seemed to have arrived. It was as if the gods aimed to shatter the cliff, or perhaps the person on the cliff. Within the thick curtain of rain and endless thunder, Valerius was tightly wrapped in countless golden chains. It had been almost twelve hundred years since the day Valerius found himself sealed in the forest.
He was beautiful in a way that felt wrong; he was too perfect, like carved stone. He looked like a statue, frozen in perfect stillness. The only proof of his life was the constant scream of agony and pain escaping his mouth with each persistent strike of lightning. With every bolt, fresh wounds erupted on his skin, and new burns appeared. Blood leaked, but miraculously, the wounds healed with visible speed. This cycle of constant attack and instantaneous healing was endless, the torture unbroken for ages.
Through the screams, a crooked smile clung to his face. Sometimes he even laughed, wild and broken, as if the pain were a game.
"Hit harder, you bastards!" He screamed at the sky, his voice raw with defiance. "Kill me if you can!"
Another bolt struck him, and he roared. "Just wait for the day I'm out! I'll destroy all of you! Skin you alive! Burn your entire lineage!" He coughed, blood flecking his lips, then spat at the heavens. "I'll dig the graves of your ancestors, you pathetic, worm-ridden filth!"
Then his smile faded. His rain-soaked eyes fixed on a shadow no one else could see. After observing for a while, a cruel grin spread on his face. "A new lamb walks the den." He narrowed his gaze. "And he's being hunted. Interesting."
He softly called, "Uncle Moe…"
A piercing shriek tore through the forest. Every creature froze in terror, holding its breath as if the end had come. The thunderclouds above tore open. Through the rift dove a colossal eagle, its wings wider than any plane. Eyes burning molten gold, talons thick as tree trunks, feathers crackling with shadow and storm. It landed with earth-shaking force beside Valerius, a terrifying force beneath the unrelenting sky.
The gigantic eagle shifted. Its immense body rippled, feathers receding, muscles reshaping. Bone cracked and stretched, skin tightened. In moments, the monstrous form melted into that of a middle-aged human, tall and powerfully built, his face rugged but calm, his eyes holding the same ancient depth.
The man walked toward Valerius, then bowed deeply, his head almost touching the ground.
Valerius sighed, waving a hand. "Uncle Moe, how many times must I tell you to stop bowing? It only weighs my soul down further."
Uncle Moe straightened slightly, his gaze unwavering. "This is what a slave should do, Master."
"You were a slave to the family, Uncle, not to me," Valerius replied, with a rare warmth in his voice. "You have always been an uncle to me. And with our people dead, our family gone... you are a free soul now."
Uncle Moe's eyes hardened. "Our people are gone. Our family's gone. But you live, Master. And I'll always serve."
Valerius watched him, a long moment of silence stretching between them, filled with unspoken pain and shared memory. Finally, he sighed in resignation.
"An interesting kid has wandered in," he said, his eyes now fixed on the distant direction, a cruel amusement returning to his face. "Bring him to me."
"At once, Master." With a quiet shimmer, Uncle Moe vanished into the storm.