Revy's hand shook slightly, the katana's hilt slick with blood. He had only killed animals before, but this felt different. This was not a fight for survival or a fight to protect a village. This was a war born of anger and pride that needlessly cost lives. He looked at Dori, his eyes filled with newfound respect and a touch of fear. Dori had seen the beast of steel and fire that lived within his friend unleashed upon the nobleman's men.
They set out towards the dark forest that was the entrance to the Western Kingdom. The trees looked tall and ancient; The sun never entered the forest, whose branches were intertwined with the dance of shadows whispering the secrets of the ages. The forest was a stark contrast to the wheat fields they had left behind; It was a place where the whispers of the gods were replaced by the screams of the damned.
The journey was long and arduous, their steps weary and their spirits low. Dori followed Revy closely, her eyes darting around the forest like those of a haunted creature, fear etched in every line on her face.
Revy's eyes searched the shadows for any signs of danger, her breaths measured and shallow. The forest was eerily quiet, as if it was holding its breath and waiting for them to make a mistake. Dori's thoughts turned to the stories about the beast Old Elijah had mentioned.
Dori walked a step behind, his eyes glued to the ground, lost in his own thoughts. The gravity of what they had done settled over him like a cold shroud. He had never seen Revy like this—a creature of darkness and rage. The forest seemed to swallow them whole, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The stories of the cursed forest had been whispered in the village tavern, tales of lost souls and ancient curses that lay heavy on the hearts of those who dared to tread its shadowy paths.
Revy had gone silent, the excitement of the chase replaced by the stark reality of their situation. They had killed a nobleman and no one would take that lightly. The whispers of the city of Elytra would soon turn to shouts and the dogs of the law would begin to pursue them. Dori felt a chill run down her spine, a knot of fear replacing her usual bravado.
He looked at Revy, who walked with the grace of a predator, her katana a silent promise of death. Dori could feel the power radiating from him like a furnace. It was scary and exciting at the same time. They had crossed a line that was impossible to cross. The forest had swallowed them whole; its dense shadow obscured the last traces of the setting sun.
Revy led them to a clearing, a small oasis of relative safety in the sea of shadows. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and the whispers of trees, secrets shared for millennia. Here they camped; Revy did not speak the entire way, acting as if these situations were normal, directing her every move with a precision that spoke of countless battles won and lost.
Dori watched as Revy worked, his movements economical and efficient. They built a small fire, the flames licking at the night like a living creature eager for warmth. The glow illuminated their faces, painting them in shades of amber and crimson. They shared a meal of stolen bread and dried meat, the silence between them a testament to the gravity of their actions.
The night grew darker and with it the whispers of the forest. Shadows dancing in the flickering firelight indicated malevolent spirits lurking just beyond their line of sight. Dori's heart was beating rapidly with every leaf rustle and every twig flutter. Revy's presence was comforting, but the forest was not a place to be taken lightly.
For a week they remained in the dark embrace of the forest; days turned into nights filled with unforgettable melodies of unseen creatures. Revy's hand was on the hilt of her katana, ever alert, setting traps and patrolling the surroundings with almost unnatural ferocity. His sword was a constant companion, a silent sentinel that kept the night at bay, whispering tales of unseen battles.
Dori tried to occupy his mind with games of chance, throwing rocks, or playing cards he stole from the casino, but it was possible that fear could somehow seep in through the cracks. Here he knew that their usual tricks and smiles wouldn't be enough to win them friends or protect them from the horrors that lurked in the darkness.
Revy remained stoic, her eyes never leaving the surroundings of the camp. The whispers of the katana sharpened his instincts; Every shadow was a potential threat, every rustle was a harbinger of doom. He never spoke to Dori about the incident, he remained silent and calm. It was as if they understood the seriousness of their situation and that there was no room here for Dori's cheerful jokes or gentle touches.
For a week, the same pair of eyes had watched them from the shadows of the forest. They had become a constant presence, a silent spectator to their every move. At first Revy had dismissed them as figments of her overactive imagination, but as days turned into nights and nights turned into days, the persistence of these unseen observers began to fray her nerves.
One evening, as they sat around their dwindling fire, the air grew thick with anticipation. The whispers of the forest grew quieter, almost as if the very trees held their breath. The tension was palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to crescendo with every passing moment. And then, without warning, the shadows parted and revealed the form of a young boy, no more than thirteen years old, with piercing eyes that gleamed like emeralds in the firelight.
Beside him hovered a creature so small that Revy had to blink to ensure it was not a figment of his imagination. A dragon, no larger than a cat, with scales that shimmered like the deepest red of a freshly drawn sword. The creature's wings fluttered with an enthusiasm that seemed almost comical in contrast to the solemnity of the boy's gaze.