He slept deeply, as though his body was shackled in heavy iron, preventing even the slightest movement. When he finally woke up, the feeling of sluggishness did not vanish—his thoughts were tangled, and his muscles refused to obey. It felt as if his consciousness was still engulfed in a thick fog, and not a single corner of his mind could clear up. He was alone. Throughout his long journey, he hadn't met a single person who could help or explain what was happening and where to go next. But even if someone had appeared, would they have helped? Was there even one safe place of refuge in this land for rest? Most importantly, could he survive?
The sound of water caught his attention. The soft murmur of a stream was the only sign of life in this gloomy landscape, illuminated by the pale light of the moon. The pain in his body remained, it hadn't gone away, but the boy had grown used to it—he was grateful to still feel, to still be alive. He glanced around and immediately recoiled in horror: twisted black trees loomed over him, their dark leaves like frozen shadows, and the filthy stream that trickled through the dead earth exuded a foul darkness. Everything around glowed, but not with life—with a dark, ominous magic, as if the very ground was steeped in ancient evil. He had never seen a worse place in his life. Was this an illusion? He pondered, recalling how this area had seemed much more pleasant when he first arrived. Perhaps the forest had taken hold of his mind, but how had he escaped the trap of illusions? Or was he still in one? If this was an illusion, could the crown he possessed help him dispel the enchantment? But he had no magical abilities... Or had the forest changed while he slept?
Pushing these thoughts aside, he forced himself to stand. Every movement was a struggle—his body, exhausted and battered, refused to cooperate. At last, he rose to his feet and began walking. The dried bloodstains on the ground hinted at where he had come from. He walked all day, barely stopping. The one thought that kept him going was simple: to get away from here as quickly as possible. But he had no idea where to go. The same dead landscape stretched out in every direction—black trees, rotting branches, and endless shadows. Doubts began to gnaw at his mind: was he heading in the right direction? What if even greater danger lay ahead?
The boy knew that because of his curse, it would be hard to find a safe place. With every step, he grew more certain of how terrible this place had become. It seemed abandoned and dead, untouched by life for thousands of years. His thoughts were heavy and bleak when, suddenly, he noticed something strange ahead. An object, standing in the middle of his path.
The boy froze, feeling fear seize him. It was not a person, but not a beast either—something in between, and its eerie stillness was terrifying. The creature was his height, low but broad, and its bulky body looked menacing. It growled softly, as if struggling to breathe, and stared at him with empty white eyes. The boy extended his hand, summoning his sword. But his hand trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. Every movement felt like a painful effort. He thought of the crown, but quickly dismissed the idea—after its last use, he doubted it would help him again. He decided to keep the crown as a last resort. The boy and the monster stared at each other for a few seconds, then the boy acted.
Wasting no time, the boy spun around and ran. His wounds reopened, blood soaked his legs, and the pain from each step became unbearable. But that didn't matter. Only one thing was important—to run as far as possible from the creature. He knew the monster was heavy and unlikely to catch up quickly. After running several hundred meters, he glanced back. There was no one around. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, barely catching his breath. His eyes grew heavy, his consciousness slipping away. And the pain intensified with every second.
But suddenly, he looked forward again—and froze in terror. Behind the bushes, unmoving like a shadow, stood the same monster. It had caught up with him… How? How had this creature gotten here so quickly and silently? Panic gripped the boy. His body shook with fear, something he had never felt before. It seemed to him that this was the end.
He took off running again, this time with desperate determination. Pain pierced through his entire body, each wound throbbed with unbearable agony, and his legs refused to keep running. But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not here.
The world around him began to change. A thick fog enveloped the forest, hiding everything in sight. It was as dense as a curtain, and the boy could barely see anything. But it offered no protection. He tripped, hitting his head on the wet ground, smearing himself with mud. His throat was clogged with a sticky darkness, mixing with his fear. He tried to summon the crown, but his body wouldn't respond. Wet dirt filled his mouth, and spitting it out, he slowly and carefully stood.
The bushes around him rustled, stirred by the wind, but he felt as though the creature was lurking behind them, watching him. His mind could no longer distinguish reality from illusion. He backed away, glancing nervously in every direction, until he spotted a sheltered area ahead, where the monster might not be able to reach. The place resembled a part of the forest where trees were intertwined, making it difficult for any creature to move through. But as he looked closer, his heart clenched in horror—the monster was standing right there, directly in that spot, slowly moving toward him...