In the dark, overgrown forest where the light of the sun was nothing more than a forgotten memory, two orbs of light moved side by side. Lucian led the way, his tall figure cutting a solitary path through the endless shadow. Behind him, Celeste trudged along, still recovering from her ordeal, her bright red hair now dulled by dirt and wear.
The silence between them was suffocating for Celeste. Her steps faltered, and she looked up at Lucian's back with a pout. Why is this guy so insufferably quiet?
"Why are you so tall?" she asked suddenly, her tone exasperated.
Lucian didn't even glance back. His eyes remained fixed on the surrounding gloom, scanning for threats. His mind was occupied with their precarious situation—the dwindling supply of water vials and the ever-present danger lurking in the forest. He replied flatly, "I don't know."
Celeste's hands clenched into fists, her patience already wearing thin. He's impossible! She forced a sweet smile and asked again, "Where are we going?"
"I don't know," came the same monotonous reply.
Her eye twitched. Picking up a small rock, she hurled it at Lucian's head. With uncanny reflexes, Lucian tilted his head slightly, the rock sailing harmlessly past. He didn't even break his stride.
"YOU! What is your problem?" Celeste shouted, her frustration boiling over.
Lucian stopped abruptly, spinning on his heel to face her. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and disdain as he reached into his pouch and tossed her two vials of water. "Here. Take these. Get lost. I can't deal with you anymore."
Celeste stared at him, her mouth agape. "You can't just leave me! What kind of person abandons someone out here? I'll die on my own!"
Lucian's gaze hardened. "Then be quiet. The last thing I need is you babbling while I'm trying to stay alive. And give one of those vials back."
Celeste hugged the vials protectively to her chest, shaking her head. "Nope. Mine now."
Lucian sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But don't ask for more." Without another word, he turned back and resumed walking.
Celeste stuck her tongue out at his back but obediently followed, muttering under her breath about ungrateful men.
Lucian led them eastward, driven by a memory from the days when Celeste had been unconscious. While scouting for supplies, he had climbed one of the massive trees and spotted a colossal black structure far in the distance. It was eastward, and while he couldn't be certain, such a structure could mean civilization—or at least intelligent life. It was a faint hope, but in this cursed forest, hope was a rarity.
As they moved, Lucian suddenly froze. A sound pierced the oppressive silence—the unmistakable howls of the eight-legged hounds. His heart sank. He knew this pack; he'd evaded them once before, barely. He motioned for Celeste to stop and whispered, "Cut off your mana, except for your orb. And… roll on the ground to mask your scent."
Celeste blinked, her mind blank for a moment before the absurdity of his request hit her. "You want me to roll in dirt?" she hissed, horrified. "I'm a noble—"
"Do you want to die?" Lucian snapped back.
The distant howls grew louder. Celeste bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes as she dropped to the ground and started rolling. Dirt clung to her once-pristine clothes, and her light orb flickered dimly above her head as she muttered silent curses.
Lucian waited until she was done, then pointed to a spot behind a tree. "Stay here. Don't move. Don't make a sound."
Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared into the shadows, moving silently toward the source of the howls. His orb's faint glow illuminated his immediate surroundings as he crept closer. Then, through the suffocating darkness, he saw it—a clearing.
Sunlight poured through a gap in the canopy, painting the ground in golden light. Lucian blinked, momentarily dazed by the brilliance. It was the first sunlight he had seen since arriving here, and it filled him with an odd sense of hope. But that hope quickly shattered.
In the center of the clearing, near a wide pond of rainwater, the eight-legged hounds were feasting. Their grotesque forms, twice the size of normal wolves, circled two mutilated human bodies. Blood smeared the ground as they tore limbs apart, their jagged maws crunching bone with ease.
Lucian's stomach churned. He squinted, trying to identify the bodies, but they were too mangled. Still, he knew—they were students from the university.
Bile rose in his throat as he retreated silently, his mind racing. If those hounds catch our scent… we're finished.
Returning to Celeste, he motioned for her to follow him quietly. Together, they climbed into the branches of a massive tree overlooking the clearing. From their vantage point, they watched as the hounds finished their gruesome feast and, one by one, disappeared back into the forest.
When the last of them was gone, Lucian dropped to the ground, his steps cautious but determined. Celeste followed, her face pale as she avoided looking at the bloodied patch of ground.
"We're not here to mourn," Lucian said curtly, leading her toward the pond. "Get the water and let's leave."
Celeste nodded, her trembling hands uncapping one of her vials as she cautiously filled it with water from the pond. Her movements were shaky, betraying the lingering fear that gripped her.
Lucian crouched nearby, his body tense and alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. His sharp eyes flicked between the dense forest and the rippling water's surface, every sense heightened.
As he methodically filled the remaining empty vials, Celeste knelt beside him. Her gaze shifted uneasily between the pond and the grisly remnants scattered across the clearing. The weight of their grim reality hung heavy in the air.
Breaking the oppressive silence, her voice wavered with hesitation, each word carefully measured. "Lucian... do you think we're going to end up like them?"
Lucian paused, the weight of her question pressing down on him. His heart clenched as he glanced toward the clearing where the pack had feasted on their victims. He knew the odds—they were slim at best. Survival in this cursed place seemed almost impossible. But as he met Celeste's eyes, he forced himself to respond, his voice steady despite the doubt in his heart.
"No," he said firmly. "Both of us are going to get out of here."
Celeste smiled, a glimmer of hope breaking through her exhaustion. "This is the Lucian I like," she said with a playful grin. "Can you be like this a little more often, please?"
Lucian shrugged, hiding the faint sense of ease her words brought him. As much as he hated to admit it, her optimism was infectious. He gestured for her to watch the surroundings while he continued filling the vials. She nodded, standing guard with her sword drawn.
As he filled the last vial, Celeste broke the silence again, her curiosity bubbling over. "Hey, Lucian," she began, "why do you always wear gloves and that same attire?"
Lucian's reply came instantly, dripping with sarcasm. "That's none of your business."
Celeste pouted, muttering something under her breath about him being impossible. Before she could press further, a sudden ripple disturbed the surface of the water. Lucian's hand froze mid-motion as the ripples turned into violent waves, radiating outward. His instincts screamed danger. He leapt back, gripping his sword, just as something shot out of the water with blinding speed.
A sharp pain exploded in Lucian's shoulder as the creature struck, its attack too fast for him to counter. He winced, stumbling back, his left arm hanging limp and unresponsive. Blood seeped through his clothing, staining the fabric.
"Lucian!" Celeste shouted, rushing to his side with her sword drawn.
Lucian's senses were in overdrive, his eyes darting around to locate the attacker. It moved too quickly, a blur in the dim light. Forcing his body to calm, he focused. Finally, his eyes locked onto it—a grotesque, winged snake, small but unnervingly agile, its scaled body glinting like polished obsidian. It circled in the air, preparing for another strike.
The creature dove toward him again, but Lucian was ready this time. With his right hand, he invoked his Wind Barrier, the protective shield flaring to life around him. He swung his sword to intercept the creature, managing to block its attack. The impact sent shards of his blade flying—his second sword, shattered.
Gritting his teeth, Lucian conjured multiple Wind Blades, sending them slicing through the air. But the creature was faster, weaving through the attacks effortlessly. His frustration mounted as the monster prepared for another assault.
Just then, towering wall of flames erupted from the ground, encircling the creature. Celeste, her hands glowing with fire magic, grinned triumphantly as she manipulated the flames with precision. The winged snake screeched in agony, its body catching fire and plummeting to the ground.
Before it could recover, Celeste unleashed another surge of fire. "Take this!" she shouted gleefully, flames roaring with intensity as she incinerated the creature. She laughed, her tone bordering on sadistic, as she reduced the monster to ash.
Lucian, breathing heavily, watched the scene unfold. Pain wracked his body, but he managed a faint smile. "She's… a bit of a sadist," he muttered to himself. "I'll need to make sure I never get on her bad side."
When the creature was nothing more than a charred husk, Celeste turned to him, flashing a victory sign. Her face was flushed with excitement, her usual elegance replaced with a raw, untamed energy.
Lucian chuckled weakly. "Thank you, Celeste," he said, his voice faint.
The adrenaline that had kept him standing finally gave way to exhaustion. His vision blurred as the pain in his shoulder overwhelmed him. Unable to stay upright, he collapsed onto the ground.
"Lucian!" Celeste cried, rushing to his side. Her earlier bravado vanished, replaced by worry. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she checked his wound.
"You'll be okay," she whispered, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.
For the first time, Lucian felt a strange sense of reassurance. As the darkness consumed him, he thought, Maybe I don't have to survive this alone.