The evening air hung heavy with a quiet foreboding as I stood before the small, humble cottage. The trees surrounding the village seemed to lean in closer, their shadows stretching across the earth like long fingers, reaching toward the unknown. A chill had settled in, creeping through the air as I stepped inside, my heart already burdened by the knowledge of what awaited me.
Inside, the flickering light of a small fire illuminated the room, casting long shadows on the walls. She lay on a thin cot, her body frail and pale, the life that once sparkled in her eyes now dimmed. Her name was Lira, and she was the first to fall ill in the village—a sickness that no one could explain. For days now, she had been bedridden, her strength draining with each passing hour. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life left in her.
I moved closer, careful not to disturb her as I sat down by her side. Her eyes fluttered open, and they met mine. Despite the weariness that clung to her, she managed to smile weakly.
"You came..." she rasped, her voice cracked with illness, yet there was a glimmer of concern beneath it. "Have you been to the forest, then?"
I nodded, keeping my emotions in check. "I went. But there's nothing unusual there. Just the usual sounds of the forest."
Her brow furrowed, and she reached out with trembling fingers, touching my cheek with a frail hand. "I've heard... strange things, in the night. Crying, whispers... like something is calling to me. I'm afraid."
Her words sent a cold shiver down my spine. I tried to dismiss the unsettling feeling gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. "It's probably just the wind, or some animal. Don't worry, Lira. I'll keep you safe."
She nodded weakly, but the fear in her eyes never fully disappeared. "Be careful," she whispered, before her eyes closed again, her breath shallow.
I sat there for a long while, watching over her fragile form. The weight of her words pressed heavily on my chest. I couldn't shake the thought that something far more sinister was at work. But for now, I kept my thoughts to myself. She had enough to worry about without my doubts added to her burdens. So, I quietly rose and walked toward the door, my resolve hardening.
The evening air had grown colder, biting at my skin as I made my way to the village square. The setting sun painted the sky with hues of orange and purple, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer as nightfall approached. There was still work to do. The forest was calling to me, and I couldn't ignore it any longer.
As I approached the village's small, weathered house, the old wise farmer was standing by his porch, leaning on his staff. His sharp eyes caught sight of me immediately, and he studied me for a moment before speaking in a deep, gravelly voice.
"You're off to the forest at this hour?" he asked, concern flickering in his gaze, though he said nothing further.
I forced a smile, hoping it didn't seem too strained. "Just some work in the forest. Thought I'd take care of it before nightfall."
He raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze never leaving me. "At this hour? What kind of work could there be out there? You've been out there before, haven't you?"
I hesitated, maintaining my composure. "Just... some preparations," I said quickly. "Nothing to worry about."
The farmer studied me for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Alright, but be careful. The forest's no place to wander at night. If you need a lantern, I've got one. Take it."
I nodded gratefully and stepped forward to accept the lantern. His gaze lingered on me, and I could sense the unspoken words in his eyes—the quiet concern. But he said nothing more, turning and walking back into his home, leaving me with his sigh that hung in the air like an omen.
I thanked him softly and continued on my way, the lantern's light casting flickering shadows around me as I moved toward the forest. The village seemed too quiet now, as though it were holding its breath. Waiting. For what? The question gnawed at me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking into something far beyond my understanding.
The path to the forest seemed longer now, the trees towering above me, and the air felt heavier with each step I took. The usual sounds of the forest—the chirping of insects, rustling leaves, the occasional cry of a night bird—seemed distant, muffled, as if something were pushing them away.
The silence pressed in on me, and the strange sounds that had plagued Lira's nights echoed in my mind. Could they be real? Was there truly something more to her words? Doubt began to creep into my chest, twisting with fear.
And then, it came.
A low, eerie hum. A soft, unearthly sound that seemed to vibrate through the very air itself, making my skin prickle. At first, it was faint, like the murmur of wind, but it quickly grew louder, filling the space around me. It felt as though the forest itself were alive, breathing with me, drawing me deeper into its depths.
I paused, my heart pounding in my chest. The pressure in the air became suffocating, as though the forest were trying to turn me back. But I couldn't stop now. Not when I was so close. Lira's words echoed in my mind, and I knew I couldn't give up.
I stepped forward, the weight of the pressure increasing with each step. The hum was all around me now, and my every instinct screamed for me to turn back, to flee. But I forced myself onward, my will stronger than my fear.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the source of the sound. What I saw stopped me cold.
A figure stood before me—tall, cloaked in shadow, with eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. The hum vibrated through the very earth beneath me, making the ground tremble with its unnatural presence. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn't move. The figure didn't seem to notice me at first, its attention fixed on something else. But then, it slowly turned its head, and our eyes met.
The eyes were not human. They were ancient—something older than the forest, older than this village, older than anything I had ever known.
And then, it spoke.