"I… uh… thanks?" My voice cracked awkwardly as I turned to look back at the knight who had escorted me. But she was already gone. Great.
One day and a half. That was all it took to cross into this strange, sacred land, yet it already felt like I'd stepped into another reality.
And… wow.
Towering trees greeted me—no, engulfed me. Their trunks were impossibly thick, like natural skyscrapers reaching for the heavens, their branches sprawling out in a vast, interconnected canopy. The sheer magnitude of them made me feel insignificant, like a mere speck in a land too grand to comprehend.
The creatures were just as absurd. Birds the size of carriages swooped through the air with ease, while animals on the ground looked more like the size of a big construction trucks than anything you'd find in a regular forest. Despite their terrifying size, they moved with a strange gentleness, their eyes full of quiet intelligence.
A massive bird glanced at me mid-flight and gave what I swore was a nod before flapping away. Another creature, a lizard the size of a cow, paused to stare at me with glassy eyes before skittering off into the underbrush.
Yet, their stares unnerved me.
They weren't just curious glances—they felt watchful, almost piercing, as if the creatures knew something I didn't.
Villagers wandered nearby, carrying bundles of fruit, wood, or fish. Their movements were calm and unhurried, as if living next to monsters the size of houses was perfectly normal.
Swallowing my hesitation, I approached one of them.
"Greetings!" I called out, waving awkwardly.
The man set down the stack of wood he was carrying and turned to me with a neutral expression. "Greetings."
"I, uh, have a question," I began, holding up my map. "Where exactly in Luminos are the holy lands?"
The villager tilted his head slightly, staring at me like I'd just asked where water was in an ocean. "The entire land is holy."
"Right, of course," I said quickly, scratching the back of my neck. "What I meant was, I'm looking for someone. A man. Dark hair, handsome, the kind of guy you don't forget." I floundered, then sighed. "Ring any bells?"
The villager smiled faintly, more amused than helpful. "If someone comes to Luminos, it's usually to visit the temple."
Temple? Could he be there? Yen?
"And the temple is… where exactly?" I asked, unfolding my map.
The villager pointed to a spot so far off the edge of the map.
I blinked at him. "There's no faster way?"
He shook his head. "No carriages here. Animals can't be tamed." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're spirits."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline but he just kept staring back, completely serious.
"If you encounter anything dangerous," he continued, "don't speak. Just listen. Most of the time, they'll leave you alone."
"Most of the time?" I repeated, my voice rising slightly.
He shrugged. "Safe travels, stranger."
And just like that, he picked up his wood, hummed a little tune, and wandered off, leaving me alone with my rapidly spiraling thoughts.
-----
The forest was even stranger once I was inside it.
Everything was huge. The trees loomed like ancient guardians, and even the smallest creatures seemed to radiate a sense of knowing. They watched me as I passed, be it a massive bird or a lumbering beast—paused just long enough to lock eyes with me. Their gazes weren't hostile, but they weren't friendly either.
By nightfall, the unease had settled firmly in my chest. I found a small clearing to camp in and started a fire, hoping its warmth and light would stave off the creeping sense of wrongness.
Spoiler: It didn't.
I lay by the fire, exhaustion tugging at my eyelids, until sleep finally claimed me.
Graze… graze…
A soft, tingling sensation brushed my cheek.
Sniff.
Warm, damp air puffed against my face.
My eyes snapped open.
I didn't move. My heart slammed against my ribs, every instinct screaming that something was wrong.
It'll go away, I told myself. Just ignore it. Maybe it's friendly.
Then something cold and slimy dragged across my face.
I shot upright with a strangled yelp, scrambling backward until I hit the trunk of a tree.
In the flickering firelight, I saw it.
A creature loomed before me, hunched and massive. It looked like a deer dragged out of a nightmare. Its legs were too long, its head too narrow, and its matted fur clung to its emaciated frame.
But its eyes…
They were human. Too human.
And they were crying. Thick, viscous tears streaked down its face, soaking its fur in a grotesque display of sorrow.
"A-ah… swamp. Home," it rasped, its voice fractured and wrong, like shards of glass grinding against stone.
It stumbled closer, its limbs jerking like a puppet on frayed strings. A wet, crimson trail followed in its wake.
"Why? Hu… man. W-why? AHHHHH!!!"
The sound tore through the forest, sharp and raw, like grief incarnate. It didn't just pierce my ears—it dug into my chest, twisting something primal inside me.
I froze. Running wasn't an option. It was too fast, and I had nowhere to go.
"Don't speak. Just listen." The villager's words echoed in my head.
Swallowing the scream clawing at my throat, I clamped my mouth shut and stayed perfectly still.
The creature's cries softened, its sobs hitching like a child struggling to breathe.
When I dared to peek, its face was suddenly inches from mine. Its breath was rancid, hot and suffocating. Those wet, human eyes stared into mine, searching for… something.
Finally, it turned and limped away, its cries shifting into the wail of a baby. It melted into the shadows, leaving nothing but the fading echo of sorrow.
I collapsed against the tree, trembling.
Sleep? Yeah, no. That wasn't happening.
Grabbing my things, I marched through the night like the devil himself was on my heels.
---
Morning brought little comfort.
I crouched by a stream, splashing water on my face and trying to shake the haze of sleepiness. The fish I'd caught smoked over the fire, the golden skin crackling as they cooked.
Maybe after breakfast, I'd rest a bit. Surely nothing creepy would show up during the day, right?
"Hello, mister."
I flinched, nearly toppling into the stream.
Or maybe not.
Turning, I spotted a monk a few feet away—bald head, simple robes, prayer beads. He looked the part, except for one thing: tattoos.
Dark, intricate patterns coiled across his chest, just visible beneath his loose robe. They didn't seem decorative but heavy with meaning.
A monk with tattoos. Suspicious.
"Do you have any food to spare?" he asked in a calm, even voice.
"I… have bread," I said, side-eyeing him.
The monk tilted his head. "I want fish."
Monks are supposed to be humble, right?
I blinked. "You sure?"
He nodded solemnly.
Reluctantly, I handed him a fish, watching as he muttered a quick prayer. Then he devoured it, bones and all, in a matter of seconds.
He reached for another without asking.
I stared, half horrified, half impressed.
Maybe he wasn't a monk. Maybe he was another creepy forest spirit here to rob me of my breakfast.
Should I just run?