Maxwell

  “Godwyn is growing up fast. Too fast for my liking.

  It seems nary a fortnight ago that he was still just a newborn babe, gripping my finger with that small hand of his, eyes dark as the sea on a stormy night. Now, he has taken to crawling, and spends most of his day dashing about the house, much to the dismay of my wife.

  He’s a restless soul, that much is certain. So full of energy, and a thirst for knowledge. It’s as if he wishes to see and experience every aspect of the world around him, from the sights to the sounds to the smells. He also seems to possess surprising speed and finesse for one so young, his body capable of moving in ways that are surely unnatural for a newborn.

  There can be no doubt as to his heritage, at least. The same abilities that were once gifted onto me now lay dormant in him, woven into his very flesh and blood. One can only speculate as to how it shall affect him as he grows.” - Writings of the Sword- Saint, 2153 Post-Separation (PS).

  The following morning found us riding for Benadiel once more, albeit with a significant change in riding arrangement - our positions upon the horse had been reversed, with me at the front and Amelie at the back. A deliberate shift, orchestrated by her in a bid to teach me the intricacies of horse-riding.

  Alas, matters were not proceeding as smoothly as perhaps envisioned.

  “You are holding the reins too tightly,” Amelie said, her arms encircling my waist as she leaned forwards to offer guidance. “You need to relax your grip.”

  “What?” I frowned. “But... won’t he just pull the reins from my hands then? If I’m not holding on to them properly?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Waylan is well-trained. You do not have to worry.”

  “A-Alright then, if you say so,” I coughed, willing myself to trust her judgement. It took noticeably more effort than usual, for such a mundane thing. My hands felt numb and wooden, my spine rigid as marble. I really had been gripping on for dear life.

  I took a deep breath, wrestling with my own nerves and anxiety as I felt the animal’s steady gait beneath me. I had never ridden a horse before, or at least never been in the metaphorical drivers’ seat of one. Growing up watching old Western movies had convinced me it would be a simple affair, an effortless matter of jumping in the saddle and striking the reins. Alas, the lived experience had turned out far less elementary, and far more terrifying.

  Horses were big. I had known this for some time, of course, but never really considered it before now. They were powerful animals, made up of knots of hard muscle and dogged strength. They could just as easily trample me underfoot as they could carry me, and that fact seemed all the more prominent now, as I attempted to guide Waylan down the beaten path before us, my posture tense and my forehead slick with sweat. I harbored no illusion of control, relying more upon Waylan’s good graces to keep us moving than my own capacity to guide him.

  Amelie, meanwhile, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. She chuckled softly behind me, her breath warm against my ear.

  “Relax your back, too,” she said, running a hand down the side of my torso. “You are stiff as a board. Waylan is not going to hurt you. He is a gentle giant.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I muttered. “He’s your horse.”

  “Exactly,” she nodded. “Which is why you should trust my judgement on this. Ease up a bit, and this will be a more comfortable ride for the both of you.”

  Deferring to her common sense, I made a conscious effort to abate the tension in my muscles. Much to my surprise, it did not take long for me to see results. I could all but feel it in the way Waylan’s strides became smoother and more effortless, as if he could sense my newfound confidence, and wanted to respond in kind.

  “There you go,” Amelie smiled, her arms tightening their grip around my waist, offering encouragement and support. “Feel how much better that is?”

  “Yeah...” I breathed, rolling my neck. “Loads. Thank you.”

  “As usual, you are welcome,” she said. “You know, perhaps I should not have been so quick to dismiss this whole “teacher” thing before. It is surprisingly entertaining.”

  “I’d argue that’s only because I’m such an eager student,” I said, feeling a sudden need to defend what little remained of my honor. Stonefather knew it had taken its fair share of beatings over the last few weeks. “If I was hopeless at learning, you would have been miserable.”

  “Well, it is true that you are a quick study,” Amelie said, bringing a proud smile to my lips. “Though I would not let it get to your head, if I was you. Your knowledge of the world at large remains much the same as that of a literal babe, after all.”

  My smile faltered somewhat.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault that I can’t remember anything!” I said, somewhat ashamed at how easily the lie came to my lips. “And my lack of general knowledge is not what we were discussing!”

  “I know, I know,” Amelie said, rubbing the side of my face in a placating gesture. “It was simple jest, nothing more. Honestly, you boys are all so sensitive...”

  I did not rise to the taunt, offering instead a feigned scoff of indignation as I set my gaze firmly upon the road ahead.

  As we continued down the winding path, I found my apprehension growing less and less compelling with each passing moment. Waylan's enduring rhythm, coupled with Amelie's reassuring presence, worked wonders in quelling the storm of anxiety that had threatened to consume me earlier.

  The scenery around us underwent a gradual transformation as we rode, the forest opening up as we approached the lip of the hill we had been traversing. Shafts of sunlight filtered in through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns upon the path. Birds sang their melodies, and a gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers.

  Surrounded by such tranquility, it was difficult to imagine that Alwaar was a world standing upon the precipice of destruction, left to rot in the wake of its creator’s death. For how could a place containing so much beauty also be so vicious, and malevolent towards its inhabitants?

  Lost in reverie, I almost forgot the weight of my own worries, and the burdens I carried. Here, atop Waylan's back, with Amelie by my side, I found a fleeting respite from the chaos of it all. And it was a welcome respite indeed, for ever since my arrival in this world, my life had been one of conflict, and strife.

  For a while longer, we rode in companionable silence, content to let the world pass us by as we basked in the serenity of a peaceful moment. But as with all things, it too had an end, and it came quicker than I wanted it to.

  “We are nearing Mistweave Forest now,” Amelie said, breaking the silence that had reigned undisturbed for the past half hour or so. “We will be able to see it once we crest this hill. It is a... well, it is a sight to behold.”

  A distant memory came to mind then, as I heard her speak of the forest. It much resembled our current situation in ambience, though there had been an extra traveling companion with us at the time.

  “Actually, now that you mention it...” I said. “I vaguely recall you and Regulus having some kind of disagreement about this, when we were riding out of Taft.”

  A low sigh came from Amelie at my words.

  “So you remember that?” she said.

  “Yeah,” I frowned. “And what’s more, I’m pretty certain he told you not to go through the forest.”

  “Regulus spoke of things he knows nothing about,” Amelie said, dismissing the topic with a wave of her hand. “I am not afraid of some old wives’ tales. We will be fine.”

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  “Old wives’ tales?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Amelie said. “Legend states that Mistweave Forest is cursed. That whoever travels beneath the shade of its leaves will become lost upon its twisting pathways, never again to find their way out.”

  “Uhh...” I blinked. “Well, that does sound like the kind of place I’d want to avoid.”

  “It is nothing but local superstition,” Amelie continued, and I could all but hear the defiance in her voice. “Like I said before, we will be fine. There have been plenty of reports of other travelers taking the old trading routes through the forest, and emerging without so much as a single scratch upon their person. And besides, it would add weeks to our journey to take the long way around. So trust me on this. Cutting through the forest is the right choice.”

  I wanted to believe her. Truly, I did. But there was something about the way she spoke of it that gave me pause. It was not fear, or apprehension, but rather the repeated insistence upon the fact that we would be “fine”, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.

  “... Okay then,” I sighed, shaking my head in exasperation. “I’ll take your word for it. Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to convince you otherwise, even if I tried.”

  A satisfied titter sounded in response.

  “See?” she smiled. “I said you were a quick study.”

  I searched for a fitting riposte, but came up short. As we had just established, there was no convincing Amelie to change her mind once her heart was set on a course. At that point, there was no other path but forwards, come hell or high water.

  A portentous feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

  We braved onwards, seeking the open air that awaited us just ahead, where the hill reached its zenith and the forest tapered off to shrubs and saplings. Waylan came to a slow trot as we emerged into sunlight, the landscape unfurling before us like great dunes of pasture, rolling downwards into a natural valley that met with the edge of yet another forest.

  As soon as I laid eyes upon the outskirts of Mistweave Forest, I knew with certainty that Amelie had not been entirely truthful with me regarding its lethality. The forest loomed like a hulking spectre upon the horizon, its canopy spread out like a dark sea, its depths obscured by a thick mist that clung to the trees like a shroud. White oblivion consumed all past the tree-line, drowning its innards in an opaque haze. There seemed no obvious path through the thicket.

  I turned in the saddle to face Amelie, my features the very image of skepticism.

  “Oh, shush you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So what if it is a little foggy?”

  “A little foggy?” I said, my gaze darting between her and the forest. “Are we looking at the same thing here?”

  “Look...” she sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. “There is no other option. As I have already told you, the way around would take us weeks, and I would rather like to make it to Benadiel before the winter season.”

  “Hey, I get that, but at the same time...” I said, gesturing towards the mist-choked thicket. “That right there looks like a death sentence. I can’t even see anything beyond the first row of trees, Amelie. How will we be able to tell which direction we’re walking in?”

  “Oh, that is simple,” she said, twisting backwards to rummage through our pack, which had been strapped to Waylan’s saddle. She returned a moment later with a wooden object in her hands. “We use this.”

  I recognized the item at once. It was the star-shaped compass, the strange contraption she had used the morning after our dramatic escape from Galwen.

  “Ah yes, the compass that only points to one thing,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m guessing it’s not north.”

  “It may not point us north, but it will take us through the forest,” she shrugged, pocketing the compass. “And that is all we need it to do.”

  I hesitated, torn between my instinct to trust Amelie and my gut feeling that venturing into Mistweave Forest would be a mistake. But ultimately, I knew that turning back would only serve to delay our journey further, and potentially place us in danger equal to, if not greater than that which lurked in the forest. In other words, it was a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea, and I had no inclination as to which of the two I preferred less.

  “Alright then,” I said at last. “We’ll go through the forest. Just know that if I die in there, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

  “I can live with that,” she smirked, before giving Waylan a pat on the behind to get him moving again. He struck a leisurely pace as we began descending the hill, towards the fog-ridden trees that marked the beginning of the end.

  “Why does it always feel like we’re heading towards places of death and desolation?” I remarked as we made our way across the grasslands. “Why can’t it be somewhere nice, for a change?”

  “Missing the bathhouse in Taft, are we?” Amelie said, a pinch of humor to her tone.

  “Oh, don’t even get me started,” I groaned, remembering the warm caress of the water, and the beautiful scenery. “What I wouldn’t give for a long bath right about now...”

  “Well,” she said. “I can promise you that, after we make it through this forest and down to Benadiel, we shall take plenty of baths in my father’s castle. It has some very impressive bathing areas.”

  “We?” I said, feeling the traces of a smile ghost across my lips. “As in, the both of us? Together?”

  “I see no reason not to,” she shrugged, not at all bothered by the implications. “We have shared a bath before. I am not particularly averse to the idea of doing it again.”

  “Oh, really?” I said, emboldened by her affable demeanor. “Is that an invitation, then?”

  “Maybe so,” she said, though I could tell by the way her arms grew tight and rigid around me that she had not been expecting me to say that. “We shall see once we get to Benadiel.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, at once keenly aware of her presence behind me, and the feel of her body against mine.

  Playing with fire now, I thought, suppressing a blush.

  Whatever amorous tension had settled between us was quick to disperse, however, as we arrived at the outskirts of the forest, facing its wall of fog up close. I was once again reminded of how bad of an idea I thought this was, and felt a renewed sense of apprehension flood my veins.

  “Are we absolutely certain about this?” I asked, in a last-ditch effort to sway her mind.

  “Positive,” she said. “Now let us be on with it. No sense in waiting around.”

  I swallowed my fears, and squeezed the middle of Waylan’s ribcage with the calves of my legs to cue him forwards. He lumbered on, moving away from the path to chart a course through the underbrush.

  As soon as we stepped through the mist-wall, the very air itself seemed to grow thick and languid, the weight of the forest pressing down upon us like a tangible force. The branches of the trees around us reached out like skeletal fingers, their gnarled forms looming dark and twisted overhead. Shadows danced in the shifting light, playing tricks on my senses.

  The mist itself enveloped us on all sides, obscuring our surroundings and casting an eerie pall over the landscape. Within a scant few moments, we had traveled deep enough that I could no longer make out the edge of the forest behind us. All was drowned in perpetual fog, cutting us off from the world at large.

  It was... suffocating. I wanted to turn back at once.

  "We should have listened to Regulus," I muttered, my voice barely audible above the rustle of leaves and creaking of branches. "This was a mistake."

  Amelie remained silent, her expression unreadable as we pressed on. Her determination was unwavering, her resolve unshaken by the darkness that surrounded us. But beneath her mask of confidence, I sensed a flicker of doubt, a nagging uncertainty that mirrored my own.

  It did little to alleviate my fears.

  Prospects only worsened as evening came, reducing visibility to a point where I could scarce make out the shape of the trees around us, much less any potential adversaries lingering in our periphery. Every shadow seemed to leap out at me, enshrouded within wisps of vapor borne on stale air.

  “We should make camp soon,” Amelie said, the sound of her voice startling me ever so slightly. “In short time, it will be too dark to navigate properly, and I dislike the idea of riding around at night.”

  “Don’t have to ask me twice,” I said, scanning the forest around us for a suitable camping spot. Needless to say, I found none, as my eyes could not hope to penetrate the thick veil of mist that covered every inch of these lands. “Can’t see anything in this gloom though.”

  Amelie moved to speak, but was interrupted by the onset of a sudden sensation befalling us both. It was akin to a rush of stimuli. As if someone had just lifted an intangible veil from our faces, making the world seem sharper and more manifest than before. At once, I felt the weight of the forest lighten, though the fog remained dense and impervious.

  “What... What just happened?” I stammered, bewildered by the sudden change.

  “I am not certain...” Amelie said, her eyes sharp and inquisitive. “If I did not know any better, I would say it almost felt as though we moved through a Shrouded Field, but...”

  “A whatnow?” I asked.

  “It is not important.” She shook her head. “There is no reason for such a thing to exist here in the first place. Yet, the sensation was oddly similar...”

  We exchanged brief glances, both of us unsettled by the strange occurrence. And yet, with nightfall fast approaching, it seemed best not to dwell upon it overlong. We needed to hunker down for the night, and were yet shy of a suitable location to do so.

  We continued on, our pace slower as we searched the underbrush. Eventually, as the last vestiges of light were about to be swallowed by the mist, we found our haven. A small clearing nestled between the towering trees, no greater than a dozen feet or so across. The ground was covered in a thick layer of moss that seemed to cushion our steps, and while it was hardly the most ideal spot, it at least offered some respite from the oppressive atmosphere of the forest at large.

  As we dismounted and began our work, the fog seemed to thicken around us, pressing in upon the clearing from all sides like a living entity. The air grew colder, and the sounds of the woods took on an eerie quality, as if the very trees were whispering to each other in a language unbeknownst to man.

  We worked quickly, Amelie building a small fire as I unpacked our supplies and secured Waylan for the night. Despite her outward calm, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the furrow of her brow as she scanned our surroundings, wary of the darkness beyond.

  There were unseen eyes tracking us from the shadows. I could feel them on my skin, lingering on the edges of my perception. And yet, I knew with certainty that I was helpless to confront them. They existed beyond my reach, in a place not meant for the living.

  As the fire crackled to life, casting long shadows across the forest floor, we settled down to share a meager meal of stale bread and salted meat. Conversation was sparse, punctuated only by the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of leaves.

  When at last we made our way beneath the covers of the bedroll, we huddled up closer than usual, seeking each other’s presence in a bid for comfort. Together, we would endure the endless string of taunts wrought in creaking wood and howling wind. Together, we would face the darkness.

  Sleep did not find us that night.

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