The bards sing of a time when time was not yet. In the vast impure world, a catastrophe came down from the heavens, stood over the earth and wiped the iniquity from its face with water, fire, and blood. Empires and mountains were reduced to rubble, demons, and dragons to dust. Humanity, however, persisted through the Calamity.

  They rebuilt their kingdoms, but hid behind towers and walls. With the complacent comfort of peace, they may even have forgotten that such misfortune once fell on their shoulders and brought them to their knees. But just as humanity resisted its fall, so the world resisted forgetting its defeat.

  Dozens of kilometers away from the village, ancient ruins stretch out over the land. To the east of the road, a pillar as big as a house rests against the ground. To the west, a hole in the ground seems to have been the lair of a great monster, now inhabited by wild animals that have taken its place.

  In the far north is our destination, the Dark Forest, which covers the horizon. Light rain splatters against the wood, and the golden glow of the sun is slowly stolen by the gray, heavy clouds. Crows tear through the dense mist that envelops the forest through the same powerful wind that hurls it at us.

  The lush color of the flowers fades, the green grass darkens like my garden. The sweet perfume decays into the rarefied, funereal smell of wet wood, the purity of the forest air and the sulfur of ancient magic.

  The horses slow down, their fear as transparent as that of the soldiers. Whips force them to continue the race, but it is only a short time before their bodies are blackmailed by pain. Soon, the soldiers are forced to walk when everything they fear for their lives decides to stop.

  I hear metal plates moving and Arlong's muffled voice resonates in the wet wind:

  “Bring him.”

  Then I hear the wood creak. One of the soldiers wearing iron armor enters the box with a key in his hand and heavy breathing. He removes the chains from my wrists and escorts me to freedom.

  In front of the forest, mist envelops the woods like a cloud falling from the sky. It's impossible to see more than a few meters in front of me, and already at the edge of the fairy's domain, thorns, and vines are spreading across the ground like a disease.

  Black trees disappear into the sky, their bark twisting as if in agony. Messages are embedded in patches that command and implore no one to go beyond their borders. Hidden by mist and ignored by fools, the voices from the depths of the forests whistle their macabre melody in my ears with the wind—whispers, that is, just like the ones I heard in the Unknown.

  I walk towards Arlong while the villagers watch me with their hands resting on the sheaths of their weapons. The horses stop their neighing once they get close enough. Without complaint or fear, they stand with paralyzed faces and keep in line as they weep silently and pray for mercy.

  A strange feeling runs through my chest. Trapped in the dreamlike world of the Unknown, it torments me with its confusing definition. Sweet and terrible, the desire for death and violence grows as I become familiar with the tangles of the forest.

  A chill runs up my spine and tempts me to look away. Drops of drizzle fall on my head, something rustles in the trees and laughs at our foolish hope.

  Frederic—a middle-aged man with dark hair and lines of fatigue on his face—approaches Arlong. As second-in-command, he whispers the situation into the man's ear, but the chief stops him from continuing with a wave of his hand.

  Arlong turns to the soldiers. “Raise your hands, all those who want to abandon the mission.”

  A hand immediately went up. The young hand of a boy with a chubby face. Trembling, the only resolve he had left was to run. Others, even more shaken, had this determination rekindled by their companion and imitated his gesture. Three in total.

  Frederic forced a smile. “It's always the youngest.”

  Arlong scratched his white beard and nodded to himself.

  “The night, especially a full moon, is when contact between the Fairy World and the world of men is at its strongest. As soon as the sun falls from the sky, Aldwyn will gain absolute power over the Forest, and death will follow.” He says, then points to the horses.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Those who wish to go, take care of the horses and tie them to the concrete pillar we saw earlier. Drag them if necessary. We'll need them. If you run away and don't follow my orders, you'll be forced to kiss Aldwyn's head when I return with it.”

  He continues. “Sieghart will accompany us at my side. Remember your training, get into formation…”

  Gone are the days when humanity had to hide. Now, the same pride that makes them human torments them with the duty of conquest and turns the fight against rain and cold into a battle against the monsters that prowl the ruins of our ancestors.

  “And don't believe his lies.”

  ***

  Sealed in an obelisk in the heart of the forest, a line of variables amidst the constancy of the material world stands out as much as a flame in a world of darkness. I concentrate to grasp the imaginary line and follow it, just as I did with the sun in my nightmares.

  Four hours.

  I'll reach Aldwyn in four hours.

  “Right!”

  Arlong repeats to order the soldiers. A tremor spreads over the top of the earthen ravine and rocks as big as horses come crashing down on us. I glare at Arlong, but he forbids me to use magic with a gesture.

  Even if I feel the earthly cloud creeping into my lungs and sapping my vitality, it can still be withstood with simple resistance enhancement. Even if it blinds me, a spell on my eyes to make it translucent is enough. Since it will always return, it's pointless using wind to get rid of it. Maintaining daily spells for situations like this is the main function of our training. I didn't imagine you'd be so competent.

  Artillerists unite to manipulate the wind and cut through the tangles of thorns like a blade. The soldiers run through the pass with intensified speed and strength to charge the artillerist, who are resting from their magic. United, we use the forest against itself and hide behind the trees.

  The crackling of rotten wood and the shaking of trunks that are barely supporting themselves as they fall echo through the forest. I've heard prayers and preparations to conjure, but, impressively, it's enough to protect us.

  I hear the relieved breathing of the soldiers—Elron puts his hand on Ortho's shoulder, who laughs at the absurdity of the situation as he rests. The chubby man coughs, his throat scratchy from breathing in the mist.

  “Shields!” Arlong shouts. The soldiers approach, raise their shields, and protect the others from the dry branches falling from the trees. Coordinated steps avoid the fury of the forest when a trunk collapses and threatens to scatter us, but we are soon regrouped by Frederic's command like sheep by a dog.

  “Move! Left!” The general commands and kicks us back into the race. The skies thunder before our passage and draw in the metal, their lightning descending and exploding against the trees. Fire blazes under our eyes from behind the mist, the mixture of chaos creates an impossible climate.

  Black smoke descends and mixes with the white mist, lightning flashes and almost blinds the onlookers along with the thunder that explodes in their ears. Flames keep the dim glow of the storm alight, burn the black wood and spread like a vision of hell.

  The soldiers' faith in someone like me is weak. Fortunately, in order to confirm that this is the best way forward, a natural barrier breaks down and a flood sweeps through the forest. It runs over rocks and overturns nature, clears a path and cleanses the ground of destruction. The certainty of death that lies in their path is enough to force them to keep going where I command.

  That feeling-

  Water overflows and coincidentally follows us in the rain. The soldiers don't disperse—disappearance is death—and use geomancy to erect a stone barrier. The structure narrowly stops the little water that had been redirected and gives us enough time to run north.

  The rain thickens. What was once drizzle now creates puddles on the ground and makes our feet slide through the mud. Little by little, the dew becomes a flood and another barrier forces us to use magic to cross.

  “How long?!” Arlong shouts to overcome the noise of the rain against the iron.

  “The center is near! He's moving the forest, but-”

  “But?! How long?”

  “We're close! One-one hour!”

  Arlong breathes in. He commands his soldiers, and we run towards the center. With each step, I feel the depths and roots of the forest change, as if they were spinning on their own axis. The green labyrinth conjures up its roots to impede our passage, thickens the rain until we're running through puddles and worrying more about surviving the landslides than reaching the clearing at its heart.

  There's no stopping us. Thirty minutes. I can feel the pulse on the horizon, the red energy he shares with me inside his heart and all the spherical power that separates us and, finally, his form.

  I smile.

  A large pillar stretches to the horizon. Its amber color shines amidst the dark gray of the clouds and the white of the mist. Surrounded by a garden of black roots, it wouldn't be long before we freed it and destroyed it along with Aldwyn's sealed body.

  My hands tremble. I tried to reach the divine once, and for a moment, I succeeded during our encounter in the forest. But how can I know if I'll succeed again? How can I be sure that someone like me won't be left for dead?

  I need to know. I need to have it. Whatever the relationship is between what lies dormant in my chest and Aldwyn's, I'll find out now. No, I'll rip the answers out of his decrepit corpse with my bare hands.

  We're close. No soldiers are dead. We won. I won.

  I-

  Something is wrong.