Uncharted,
Grimwraith Mire.
Critic-Ishire.
**********
The two sisters exchanged a panicked glance before frantically searching for a place to hide. This part of the foreign forest, which had felt like a refuge when they first lay down, now seemed like a trap, its shadows concealing dangers they could only imagine.
The footsteps grew louder, the ground shaking slightly with each step. Lydia and Helena locked eyes, their fear mirrored in each other's gaze, before they darted behind a large, gnarled tree. Its trunk was wide enough to shield them from view, its bark rough against their skin as they pressed themselves tightly against it, their breaths shallow and bodies tense.
"There! Come quickly," Helena whispered sharply, pointing to a hollow space beneath the thick roots of the tree. Without hesitation, they squeezed into the small space, pressing themselves against the earth, their backs against the rough bark. Helena's heart pounded in her chest, dread coiling tighter with each passing moment. She had studied trolls before, but only in books. Seeing them in person—massive, dangerous, relentless—was entirely different.
The footsteps grew closer, and soon, two enormous trolls lumbered into view.
The grotesque creatures, towering in the darkness, were even more hideous than the drawings in Helena's books. Their bulging muscles rippled beneath slimy, mottled skin that gleamed in the moonlight. Long, jagged teeth protruded from their wide mouths, and their eyes—small and dull—glowed faintly with malice. They sniffed the air, their massive heads swiveling as they searched for the source of the disturbance. Though trolls were notoriously dim-witted, their sheer size and brute strength made them terrifyingly dangerous.
Lydia and Helena knew they could not stay hidden forever. The trolls were drawing nearer, their foul stench filling the air, so close that the sisters could almost taste the bitterness on their tongues.
Lydia swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. She realized, with a sudden burst of courage, that waiting was no longer an option. With trembling hands, she stepped out from behind the tree and into view. "Hey!" she called, her voice firm, though fear gnawed at her insides.
Helena's heart nearly stopped. "Lydia, no!" she whispered harshly, panic rising in her voice as she watched her sister step forward. "What are you doing?" She hissed, her mind racing. But Lydia was already facing the trolls.
There was no time to argue. The trolls turned towards Lydia, their dull eyes narrowing as they lumbered toward her. Without a second thought, Helena rushed out from their hiding spot, moving to stand beside her sister. She raised her hand, ready to cast a spell. "Close your eyes!" she warned urgently.
Lydia obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut as Helena began whispering the incantation. The words rolled off her tongue, and a blinding light burst from her hands, illuminating the forest in a brilliant flash. The trolls roared in pain and confusion, their clawed hands flying to cover their eyes as they staggered backward, momentarily blinded.
"Run!" Helena shouted, grabbing Lydia's arm and pulling her away. They took off, their feet pounding the forest floor as they sprinted toward the direction of the waterfall. Helena's thoughts spun in irony—they had fled the edge of the waterfall earlier to escape danger, only to find themselves running back toward it. But they had no choice; the forest was too treacherous, and perhaps the sound of the rushing water could mask their presence.
Behind them, the trolls' roars turned to screams. Lydia dared to glance back and saw the trolls grappling with one another, their massive forms crashing through the underbrush. The blinding light had confused them, causing them to turn on each other.
Lydia and Helena ducked behind another tree, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their bodies trembling with adrenaline. The trolls continued to brawl, their deafening roars reverberating through the forest, shaking the very ground beneath them.
The sisters watched as the trolls fought, their heavy fists swinging wildly, their roars filling the night air. After what felt like an eternity, the trolls, too wounded or too disoriented to continue, lumbered away. Their footsteps grew more distant, and eventually, the forest fell silent once more.
Lydia and Helena remained motionless, pressed against the rough bark, until the trolls' growls faded entirely into the distance. Only then did they dare to breathe.
"We must return to the waterfall," Helena whispered, her voice shaky. "It is safer there, at least for now."
Lydia nodded, and together, they made their way back to the clearing by the water. The sound of the rushing waterfall filled the air, drowning out the eerie silence of the forest. They lay down near the water's edge, the damp, cold ground beneath them offering little comfort. Mosquitoes buzzed incessantly around them, but neither sister paid them any heed. Exhaustion and fear weighed heavily on their hearts.
"I know where we are now," Lydia murmured after a long silence, drawing Helena's attention.
"Where are we?" Helena asked, her curiosity piqued, hoping that if Lydia recognized the place, there might be a way out.
"Grimwraith…" Lydia paused, her eyes cautious yet certain. "Grimwraith Mire."
Helena frowned, shaking her head. "I have never heard of it," she admitted, her gaze following a lone star in the sky.
They sighed in unison, their weariness evident. They both knew that magic could no longer get them out. They would have to find their way back on their own.
They lay still, their eyes wide open, the fear of the forest keeping sleep at bay. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made them flinch, their imaginations conjuring images of trolls and other unseen creatures lurking in the shadows.
The night seemed endless, the darkness pressing down on them as if it held the weight of all the dangers they had yet to face. All they could do was wait for the morning, hoping that daylight would bring some measure of relief from the fear that gripped their hearts.
But in Grimwraith Mire, even the brightness of day carried its own dangers.