So much blood had already flowed from him that it seemed strange how he could even move. Perhaps, if he hadn't been a Seeker of the Edge (a beginner), he would have long since died from the onslaught of pain and blood loss. But he still moved forward, like a machine, with each step feeling the last remnants of life being drained from him. The forest around him was empty—no souls, no sounds, not even the rustle of insects. The place seemed too peaceful, almost cozy, but something inside him whispered that something was wrong. It was as if the very essence of the forest was slowly sucking the energy out of him. He couldn't tell whether this feeling was due to his weakened state or if the forest itself harbored some hidden magic.
He stumbled forward like a drunkard, barely able to keep his balance. His strength was nearly gone, nausea rising in his throat, but he couldn't afford to stop. Behind him lay a barely noticeable trail of blood, and in front stretched the enigmatic forest. In any other situation, the eerie silence might have terrified him, but now he had no time for fear—he just needed to get out. The road ahead, strangely smooth and well-kept, seemed the only sign that humans might have passed through here. This gave him a faint hope that there could be something familiar and safe ahead.
After an hour of wandering, he noticed the first insect—a glowing creature, like a tiny beacon, gliding smoothly through the air. Around him were many such creatures, their soft light reminding him of fairies from children's stories. At first, he remained cautious, fearing this might be some sort of magical trick, but soon realized they posed no threat. These beings, like fireflies, illuminated his path, and he might have found them beautiful if he hadn't been in such dire straits.
The forest began to capture his attention. It wasn't just strange—it was truly magical, almost hypnotic. Tall trees, their crowns lost in the night sky, seemed like living pillars connecting the earth and the heavens. The leaves, full of life, shifted colors, shimmering in shades of green, blue, and purple, as if the forest was absorbing light and playing with it. It felt as though this place breathed with ancient magic, wrapping him in a light scent of freshness mixed with something mysterious.
The insects followed him, almost like an honor guard, lighting his every step. Their wings, translucent and sparkling, resembled fragments of the starry sky scattered in the deep shadows of the forest. For a moment, he felt a strange calm—this place seemed to offer him a brief respite from the pain and fear. In the distance, the quiet sound of a stream reached his ears. The melodic, alluring sound seemed almost like an illusion, and the longer he listened, the more he doubted whether it was real.
But the calm was fleeting. Soon, strange, barely discernible voices began to fill his head. At first, they seemed gentle, almost soothing, but with each step, they grew louder, becoming more intrusive. He clutched his head, trying to rid himself of the sensation that his mind was slowly being torn apart. The pain grew, and he could no longer ignore the fact that these voices weren't coming from outside—they were inside him, as if they were a part of him.
His anxiety grew, along with the feeling that someone or something was watching him. He slowed his steps, peering into the trees ahead, expecting to see someone or something. But before him was only the stream—calm and clear. No one around. And yet, the sense of unease didn't leave him. A dull fear crept into his thoughts, but his thirst won out. He moved slowly toward the water, feeling each step echo in his head like the beat of a drum. The voices in his mind grew louder, and with each step, the feeling of an unseen presence became unbearable.
As he approached the stream, a sharp wave of pain surged through him. His mind seemed to explode from the intensity of the voices, and the only thing he could do was use his trump card. With trembling hands, he summoned the crown and quickly placed it on his head, hoping its power would save him. This artifact had rescued him more than once, and he relied on its magical strength.
But this time, things didn't go as he expected. As soon as the crown touched his head, an unbearable pain shot through his mind, as if fire consumed his consciousness. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his head, trying to stop the agony that seemed endless. His mind was melting under the pressure of the crown, and he desperately prayed that it was only temporary. He didn't know what was happening to him, but there was no turning back now—it was too late to change anything.
And then, after several excruciating moments, the pain began to subside. But with it, his strength vanished as well. His mind started to blur, thoughts scattered, and his consciousness sank into a deep darkness. He collapsed onto the ground, utterly exhausted, losing consciousness. His last thought before plunging into the void was that perhaps he had made a mistake choosing this path to the stream. What were those voices in his head? And why did he feel a presence he couldn't see? Could it have been his etheric sense?