The Dark Sepphoran Forest loomed before them, its towering trees of variety clawing at the heavens, their gnarled limbs wreathed in an eerie mist. Unlike the golden woods of other Everdailean lands, where sunlight wove through emerald leaves in a gentle dance of warmth and tranquillity, this place devoured the light, permitting only meagre slivers to pierce the tangled canopy. The air lay heavy with damp, thick with the scent of wet earth and the faint, unsettling murmur of things unseen.

"Here it comes," Varelor murmured, his voice barely above a breath. They had ventured farther than ever before, beyond the reach of home, beyond the world they knew. A dream fulfilled--yet unease coiled tight within him, whispering that he was not ready.

His grip tightened on the reins. Beneath him, his white steed shifted, sensing the storm within his rider. He had pored over countless tomes, traced the paths of ancient maps, devoured the wisdom of forgotten authors--yet no book had captured the sheer secrets of the Sepphoran wilds. The silence here did not simply exist; it pressed upon them, thick and watchful, as though the forest held its breath.

And yet Livian, the brave prince--or so he wished to be seen--sat tall in the saddle, his expression unshaken.

"If I were a beast lurking in these woods," Livian mused, tapping his chin as if unravelling some grand mystery. "I would strike now, whilst our nerves are taut. Perhaps from above--claws poised, fangs bared, eyes blood red--"

"Livian," Alfira cut in, her amethyst eyes flashing as she shot him a glare sharp enough to sever steel. "If you wish to tempt fate, do so when I am not within arm's reach."

Livian chuckled, unbothered, yet something gentler flickered in his gaze as he looked at her. "Oh, come now, Alfira. Must we trudge through a cursed wood in such dreadful silence? A jest might ease the heavy atmosphere of it."

Alfira exhaled, shaking her head.

"Very amusing," she muttered, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips, traitorous in its defiance. "Were you not of royal blood, I might have buried you already--or sent you to an endless sleep."

Livian grinned, stepping closer, his voice a breath above a whisper. "And yet, you have not."

Alfira turned away, rolling her eyes, but he did not miss the twitch of her lips, the way her shoulders lost the stiffness they had held moments before.

Livian sighed, pressing a hand to his chest as though wounded. "Ah, Alfira, ever the merciless warrior. Must you always be so cruel to my poor heart?"

Alfira scoffed. "Your heart is quite intact. Would you like me to stab and torture that?"

But Livian only smiled, watching her as they continued, as if committing every fleeting shift of her expression to memory.

Varelor remained silent, his gaze locked on the shifting shades between the trees. He did not share his brother's amusement. A chill crept along his spine--not from the cold, but from the feeling of something unseen. Watching. Waiting. Luring them deeper into its domain.

Livian must have noticed the tension in his shoulders, for his jesting ceased. A rare quiet settled between them before he spoke again, his voice lowered this time. "Var, are you--"

"I am fine, dear brother" Varelor cut in, his voice steady.

Livian did not press further, though his gaze lingered a moment longer. "Very well. Shall we enter the forest before dark? I'd rather not have the damsel weeping like a babe before the night is through."

Alfira scoffed, her eyes flashing.

"Oh, what a gallant prince you are," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Without another word, she spurred her black steed forward, leaving the two behind in a flurry of dark mane and dust.

"I know I am," Livian replied, falling in step behind Varelor. The silhouette of the trees closed in around them, as if the forest itself welcomed their arrival. There was, indeed, no turning back now.

For hours, they pressed on, the path narrowing with each step. Gnarled roots snaked from the earth, rising like the twisted fingers of a long-buried giant. The forest seemed to swallow the light, leaving them in an eerie half-darkness. The ground beneath them sloped downward, revealing a river swollen with relentless currents, its dark waters churning like the thoughts in Varelor's mind.

"Oh, dear," Alfira murmured, her voice tinged with unease. "This bodes ill."

Before them, a bridge spanned the yawning chasm--though calling it a bridge seemed generous. The wooden planks sagged, warped by the cruel passage of time and the relentless wear of weather. The rope railings, once sturdy, were now little more than frayed strands, barely holding together. A thick mist curled around the decaying structure, hiding whatever dangers lay below.

The steeds pawed the ground, nostrils flaring, uneasy in the shadow of the precipice. Varelor ran his hand along his mount's mane, feeling the tension in the beast's frame.

"They cannot cross. They can't make it," he murmured, more to himself than the others.

Livian, already loosening the reins, nodded solemnly. "They will find their own path." He gave his horse a final pat, murmuring words too soft to hear.

Varelor frowned. "And if they are lost?"

Livian turned, a quiet certainty in his gaze. "They are of elven stock, trained for war and wilderness alike. They will not falter."

Alfira had already dismounted, her hands deftly undoing the buckles of the saddle. Varelor followed suit, removing the harness and bridle, leaving his steed unburdened. He met its dark eyes, resting his forehead against its warm brow for a lingering moment.

"Go now, my friend," he whispered. "Find safety, and if fate allows, we shall meet again."

The horses lingered, muscles taut with hesitation. Then, as if sensing their masters' will, they turned, disappearing into the mist.

Varelor's gaze remained fixed on the place where they had vanished, his heart heavy with unspoken words. Only when the last echo of their hooves had faded did he turn to face the bridge.

"I pray the wind guides you home," he murmured, though he was no longer certain if he spoke for the horses--or themselves.

Livian's eyes scanned the bridge with feigned indifference. He gave it a quick once--over, then stepped forward, placing his foot on the first board and testing its weight, the creak of the wood echoing in the stillness.

"Seems sturdy enough," Livian declared, his voice light as he strode across with ease. His brown leather boots made little sound, despite the groaning protest of the weathered wood beneath him.

"Are you certain?" Varelor asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the bridge tremble under his brother's weight.

"I am, brother mine," Livian replied, his tone unshaken. "And we have no choice. This is the swiftest way forward."

Alfira followed without hesitation, her movements graceful, each step measured yet unfazed. Livian, ever eager to maintain his charming façade, extended a hand toward her, seeking assistance. But she merely ignored him, her gaze fixed ahead as though he were not even there, her confidence a quiet rebuke to his offer.

Varelor lingered where he stood, his eyes fixed on the bridge as it dipped under their weight, creaking ominously. His hands clenched into fists, the tension mounting in his chest. It was irrational, foolish even. He had read of men who feared heights, who trembled at the thought of the abyss beneath them--but he had never thought himself one of them. Not until now.

"You can do this, Var. "Cease your whining!" he muttered under his breath, the words a bitter encouragement to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Varelor stepped forward.

The bridge groaned in protest, its timbers creaking as if resentful of his weight. It shuddered beneath his feet, sending a ripple of unease through him. His pulse quickened, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Varelor forced himself onward, his every muscle coiled tight. The further he went, the sharper his senses became, the roaring river below thundering in his ears, the boards creaking beneath his boots--until one gave way.

The snap was deafening.

His foot plunged through the gap, the bridge lurching beneath him with a sickening jolt. For a breathless moment, he was suspended in time, weightless, the chasm and the dark river below seeming to reach for him with an insatiable hunger.

"Var!" Alfira cried, her voice sharp with alarm, her eyes wide.

Before the abyss could claim him, his hands shot out, fingers desperately grasping at the frayed ropes that hung loosely on either side. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs as he pulled himself back up, breath ragged and body trembling from the close call.

Livian was already there, hand outstretched. "Var--"

"I'm fine," Varelor snapped, pushing past his brother and stepping onto solid ground. "I- I'm fine!"

Livian remained still, his gaze fixed upon Varelor, searching, weighing his brother's silence. But he said nothing. He offered no words of reprimand, no questions. He merely nodded, his expression unreadable.

With the unspoken understanding between them, they continued on, the faint echo of the near tragedy hanging between them. Yet the forest pressed forward, indifferent, as if the world would not wait for their hesitation. And so, they moved, each step taken in the darkness of what could have been.

❥๑━

By the time the sun dipped below the treetops, the shadows had consumed the path entirely. A damp chill settled upon them, and the air itself seemed to carry an eerie, mournful wail, the sound of long-dead infants crying, their voices echoing from the depths of the forest.

Alfira's ears twitched, her eyes darting about.

"We're being watched," she whispered, her voice low but clear, her senses alert to the unseen presence closing in on them.

Varelor's grip tightened around his bow. "I know."

Livian reached for his sword. "How long?"

"Since the bridge." Varelor's voice was low but steady. "Something's been following us."

A breeze swept through the forest, rustling the leaves--but it carried no relief. Only the faintest whisper of movement, too heavy for the wind alone.

Then--

A snap.

A blur of dark fur and gleaming fangs burst from the undergrowth, a guttural snarl tearing through the air. It was monstrous--larger than any wolf, its limbs unnaturally elongated, claws curved like wicked, sharp scythes. Its eyes, glowing an eerie shade of gold, locked onto them with hunger.

Livian reacted first, his sword drawn in a flash of silver.

"Stay back!" he barked, stepping between the creature and his companions.

But the beast did not hesitate. It lunged, closing the distance in mere heartbeats.

Livian met it mid-charge, steel colliding against claw with a resounding clash. He fought fiercely, his strikes swift and unrelenting.

"I said get back! Go away, you foul beast!"

But the creature was fast--too fast. It twisted around his blade, slashing at his side.Livian stumbled, cursing.

Varelor's mind worked quickly, cataloguing every movement, every pattern. The way the creature feinted left before striking right. The way its muscles tensed before each leap. The way it left itself open, for a second, after every lunge.

"Livian! Left flank--now!" Varelor's voice rang sharp through the gloom.

Livian hesitated, irritation flashing in his emerald eyes. "What?"

"Just go!" Varelor snapped, his voice edged with urgency.

Livian did not argue further. With a swift pivot, he shifted left, his blade catching the faint glimmer of dying light as he drove forward. The beast twisted to attack him, but it had miscalculated. The beast howled, staggering.

Alfira gasped, a sharp breath of disbelief. "Oh, no!" Her eyes wide with something neither fear nor relief-but sorrow.

The creature, though monstrous, writhed in pain, its dark form trembling. A beast of the unknown, yet not devoid of suffering.

"Again! Its hind leg-off-balance!" Varelor's command cut through the moment.

Livian did not hesitate. With a precise strike, his blade carved deep. The creature let out a final, anguished snarl before staggering back, its spectral form flickering. Then, with a shuddering breath, it turned and fled--its wounded frame swallowed by the shadows whence it came.

"Forgive me, wretched creature," Varelor thought, his gaze sweeping the shadowed depths where the beast lay concealed. "But this must be done."

Silence fell, save for the whisper of the wind through the blackened trees. Alfira exhaled, lowering her dagger.

"Well," Livian muttered, rolling his shoulders. "That was... unpleasant."

If only you had been more wary, dear brother, the beast might never have struck.

Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. Only the wind stirred, rustling the twisted branches above.Blood stained Livian's tunic, his breath still ragged as he turned to his brother. "How did you--"

Varelor gave a half-smirk.

"This is why you should listen to your little brother."

Livian huffed, wiping his blade against his sleeve. "That was incredible. I never knew you had such a mind for tactics--"

"Let us focus on the journey," Varelor cut in, his voice taut, his thoughts already drifting elsewhere. "Please?"

The danger had passed, yet unease still coiled in his chest. Livian studied him for a moment but only nodded. The battle still thrummed in his veins, but it was not victory he felt--it was something far colder.

I already dread this journey. First me, then Livian... What if Alfira is next to face danger? I wish this mission would end before death claims us all.

The journey pressed on in silence.

The evergreen trees loomed taller, their gnarled limbs twisting into the sky. Vines, long and sinuous, swayed in the autumn wind like serpents poised to strike.

Alfira spoke first. "We should stop for the night."

Varelor did not argue. They found a small clearing nestled between ancient roots. Livian gathered firewood, Alfira set the perimeter with traps, and Varelor stood at the edge, staring into the darkness beyond.

The fire crackled, its embers floating upward like fallen stars. Shadows marched against the trees, stretching long and twisting with the flickering light.

Livian handed Varelor a piece of bread they got from the castle. "You should eat."

Varelor took it, but he barely tasted it. His mind was elsewhere.

Alfira broke the silence. "You fought well today."

I just wish to be alone. I do not wish to speak of these things any longer.

Livian sighed, his patience fraying. "Come on, Var. You saved us back there."

No response. Just the steady crackle of the fire.

With a frustrated breath, Livian tried again, his tone softer but insistent. "At least acknowledge the compliment, Var."

I do not wish to be complimented for the actions of my own brother.

Alfira studied the young prince for a moment before speaking again, "You saved his life."

Varelor's fingers tightened around the bread. "It was just mere instructions."

Livian scoffed.

"Oh, yes. Mere instructions that kept me from being gutted like a poor little fish." He nudged Varelor's arm, trying to draw him from whatever thoughts bound him so tightly. "Come now, little brother, take the praise for once."

Varelor let out a breath, finally meeting his brother's gaze. "If I must."

Alfira smirked, shaking her head. "You are hopeless. Brothers--no wonder why."

That night, beneath the sway of the wind, Varelor drifted into uneasy slumber. The chilled earth seeped into his bones, the whispering leaves stirring like voices just beyond reach.

The mist thickened, curling like spectral fingers, and from its depths, shadows emerged--figures without form, shifting like smoke in the wind. Their voices wove through the silence, neither loud nor soft, but certain, unyielding.

"Is he worthy?"

"He is not yet ready."

"He will not accept it."

"But he must."

A chill wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. And then, a single voice, clearer than the rest came--soft and familiar.

"You cannot run from what you are."

Varelor jolted awake.

His breath came in short, uneven gasps. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows across their makeshift camp. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, as though it could shield him from whatever force had reached into his dreams.

The fire crackled, embers glowing. Livian studied him, brow furrowed. "You've been restless since we left the castle. If something's troubling you--"

"It's nothing," Varelor repeated, sharper this time. He cast a glance at Alfira, still curled in sleep, her black hair spilling over her cloak. "Go back to sleep. We move at dawn."

Livian sighed but said nothing more. He lay back down, though Varelor knew his brother's mind would not rest so easily.

Varelor stared into the dying flames, their embers flickering like ghosts of his yesterday. The voices haunted him still, their words threading through his mind like a prophecy already fulfilled. They spoke of him as though his fate was sealed--as though choice had never been his to wield.

His jaw tightened. Foolishness. Fate was a tale spun for those too weak to carve their own path.

He forced a smile, but inside, something twisted, coiled tight like a storm restrained. He wanted to scream--to retreat into the world he once knew, where life was predictable, where destiny did not press so heavily upon his shoulders.

But that world was gone.

He had always faced it alone.

And deep down, he feared he always would.