Critic-Ishire.
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"What is this place?" Lydia's voice trembled slightly, a mixture of confusion and unease lacing her words as her wide eyes scanned the dense, unfamiliar forest. She spun around, pinning Helena with a sharp gaze. "Helena?"
Helena gulped, her eyes darting frantically across the vast, green expanse that surrounded them. The air was thick, almost stifling. "I do not know," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lydia's patience snapped, her tone cold and commanding as she spoke each word with precision. "Take me back to the mansion, Helena. Now!" Her voice roared through the silence, though her sorrow was barely masked beneath her anger.
Helena, startled by the ferocity, began hurriedly gathering her long black tresses into a bun. "I am uncertain of our location, Lydia, but I believe you should lower your voice," she urged, her gaze flicking nervously to the shadows. The trees loomed tall, their branches twisting ominously overhead. Lydia's face contorted into a deep frown.
"What have you done, Helena? Take me back to my husband! They will kill him!" Lydia demanded, her voice trembling with both fear and frustration.
Helena clenched her teeth, locking eyes with Lydia. "Your husband, Lady Theodore, is dead." Her words, though necessary, were laced with regret. The moment Lydia's chin quivered, and her breath hitched, Helena nearly wished she had not spoken so harshly. But they were stranded in an unfamiliar place, teleported with no clear way out. Lydia needed to be strong and focused, for both of their sakes. Helena did not like the energy this place radiated, not in the least.
"Pack your hair and be alert," Helena instructed briskly, her eyes briefly scanning Lydia's elegant gown. "It had to be today, of all days, that we find ourselves in such fine dresses," she muttered, frustration seeping into her voice.
Lydia stood frozen, lost in confusion. The only thing she wanted—desperately—was to be with Theodore. "Theodore is not dead," she whispered to herself, though Helena heard her clearly.
"If you do not ready yourself, it may be we who end up dead," Helena warned, her voice filled with ominous intent as the air around them seemed to grow colder.
Lydia swallowed hard, her fingers moving mechanically to gather her midnight hair. She, too, could feel the pulsing, oppressive energy that emanated from the forest. The towering trees with their twisted branches seemed almost alive, closing in around them. She thought back to this morning—her maids had styled her hair so beautifully for her to meet Theodore. And now, she was tying it up in haste, in the midst of this strange place.
No, she could not dwell on that. Theodore was alive. He had to be.
"You have never attempted teleportation before, and the first time you try, we are thrust into some eerie forest?" Lydia asked, her voice tinged with both disbelief and irritation.
Helena shot her a warning glance. "Lower your voice, Lydia. I am warning you."
"No, you do not get to warn me! I should be at the mansion now. I would be—"
"Kidnapped! Or worse, dead!" Helena interrupted, her voice rising in frustration. But Lydia's eyes darted behind Helena, her expression turning pale with horror.
Helena, oblivious to Lydia's growing fear, continued speaking. "That is what would have become of you, and the thought of dying alongside you does not sit well with me."
"Helena?" Lydia whispered, her voice weak, trembling with fear.
Helena sighed in exasperation. "I know, I know, your hus—"
"Helena, stop talking," Lydia's voice trembled. Helena froze, the urgency in Lydia's tone sinking in. She followed Lydia's gaze and her stomach plummeted.
There was something behind her.
Without turning around, Helena's instincts flared. She grabbed Lydia's arm and hissed, "Run!"
Lydia's heart hammered in her chest as they bolted, their feet pounding against the uneven forest floor. The silver-white lace of her gown snagged on branches, tearing as she ran, but she did not care. Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her thoughts consumed by fear and disbelief. 'Theo,' she gasped inwardly, her thoughts a frantic chant of his name. 'He is waiting for me. He must be.'
Beside her, Helena ran with equal urgency. Her once-neat bun unraveled with every step, her hair whipping around her face. The forest loomed, dark and foreboding, the air thick with tension and the shadows seeming to stretch toward them.
"What is this place?" Lydia thought wildly, her legs aching as she struggled to maintain her pace.
A deep, guttural roar shattered the silence, and Lydia's blood turned to ice. Helena risked a glance over her shoulder, and her heart seized with terror.
It was a troll.
The creature lumbered through the forest, enormous and grotesque, its mottled green skin glistening with slime. Its beady, malicious eyes glowed as it tore through the trees, snapping branches as though they were twigs. Lydia's breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell upon its sharp, yellowed teeth and its hulking form, twice the height of any man.
"Keep running!" Helena shouted, her voice tight with panic. She grabbed Lydia's arm, pulling her faster. "We must find a place to hide!"
Lydia's thoughts blurred, her legs burning with the effort. Theodore's face flashed before her—his warm smile, his gentle voice. Would she ever see him again? The thought tightened her chest, tears pricking her eyes. This was not how it was supposed to end.
They burst into a small clearing, their feet skidding on the soft ground. Helena's eyes darted around, searching frantically. The troll's thunderous steps shook the earth behind them, its guttural roars filling the air.
"There!" Helena pointed to a cluster of rocks partially hidden by thick ferns. She dragged Lydia toward them, dropping to the ground, pressing themselves flat against the rough stone. Lydia's breath came in sharp, panicked bursts as she tried to steady herself.
The troll lumbered into the clearing, its massive form casting a shadow over them. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air, its beady eyes narrowing. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling as she stifled her breathing. Helena lay beside her, her heart racing as she tried to summon the last remnants of her magic. She had never been trained for combat spells, but now, magic was all that stood between them and death.
The troll paused, its massive head swinging slowly from side to side. Lydia's heart skipped a beat, terror gripping her. Helena's hands twitched as she readied herself, the magic inside her bubbling, waiting to be unleashed.
"Helena, do something!" Lydia pleaded, her voice a desperate whisper.
Helena took a deep breath, forcing her hands to steady. "Prepare yourself to run," she whispered back. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a bolt of energy straight toward the troll.
The blast struck the troll square in the chest, knocking it back with a deafening roar. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Helena grabbed Lydia's arm, pulling her up as they bolted deeper into the forest.
"Run, Lydia!" Helena's voice cracked with urgency, but they did not look back. There was no time. All they could do was run, as fast and as far as their legs could carry them.