Chapter 9: Shadows in the Forest

Dawn arrived beneath a sky of iron-gray clouds.

The storm that had battered the Crimson Kingdom throughout the night had finally passed, but its presence lingered in the cold air and soaked earth.

Elena Ross stood in the castle courtyard watching servants load supplies onto horses.

The journey north was about to begin.

Part of her still struggled to believe any of this was real.

Three days earlier she had been a cartographer exploring the Scottish Highlands.

Now she was preparing to ride across a hidden kingdom trapped outside time while chasing an ancient prophecy.

Life had become considerably more complicated.

Rowan approached carrying a leather satchel.

You're staring again.

At what?

Everything.

Elena looked around.

Can you blame me?

Not really.

He handed her the satchel.

Food.

Water.

A knife.

Try not to lose any of them.

The fact that you think I might lose food is insulting.

The fact that I know you might lose food is experience.

Elena narrowed her eyes.

We've known each other three days.

Exactly.

Before she could reply, Lyra emerged from the castle.

The mage carried several scrolls and a thick leather book.

She looked as though she hadn't slept.

Perhaps she hadn't.

Researching prophecies seemed like the sort of activity capable of destroying healthy sleep schedules.

Did you find anything?

Elena asked.

Some things.

Useful things?

Possibly.

That wasn't encouraging.

The castle gates opened.

King Alaric rode through first.

Mounted on a massive black horse.

Even without armor or ceremony, he commanded attention.

The courtyard immediately fell silent.

Elena watched him carefully.

The king looked calm.

Too calm.

The kind of calm that existed only because someone had spent centuries learning how to hide fear.

We leave now.

Alaric announced.

No speeches.

No dramatic warnings.

Just certainty.

Within minutes, the small expedition departed.

The northern road wound through rolling fields and scattered villages.

Citizens stopped working to watch them pass.

News had spread quickly.

People knew something was happening.

People always knew.

The further north they traveled, the fewer settlements they encountered.

Farmland gradually gave way to wilderness.

Dense forests stretched across the horizon.

Mountains rose in the distance.

The landscape felt older.

Untouched.

Wild.

Elena rode beside Rowan.

So what's the actual plan?

Find answers.

That's not a plan.

It's a direction.

Those are different things.

Rowan appeared unconcerned.

Directions are usually enough.

You must be terrible at strategy games.

What's a strategy game?

Elena sighed.

Never mind.

By midday, they reached the edge of Blackthorn Forest.

The atmosphere changed immediately.

Birdsong vanished.

Wind faded.

The trees themselves seemed darker than they should have been.

Ancient pines towered overhead.

Their branches blocked much of the sunlight.

Mist drifted between the trunks.

Elena felt an uncomfortable chill.

This place feels wrong.

Lyra nodded.

It does.

That wasn't reassuring.

The group continued deeper into the forest.

Hours passed.

The silence grew heavier.

At one point Elena realized she could no longer hear the horses' hoofbeats clearly.

The forest seemed to absorb sound.

Swallow it.

Hide it.

Then Rowan suddenly raised a hand.

Everyone stopped.

What is it?

Elena whispered.

Tracks.

The warrior dismounted and crouched beside the path.

Several deep marks cut through the mud.

Not hoofprints.

Not footprints.

Claw marks.

Large ones.

How large?

Too large.

Again, not helpful.

Rowan pointed toward a nearby tree.

Elena followed his gaze.

Her stomach tightened.

The trunk had been split open.

Not damaged.

Destroyed.

Something incredibly powerful had torn through solid wood.

Lyra examined the marks.

Recent.

Very recent.

The king remained silent.

His attention focused on the forest beyond.

Listening.

Waiting.

Then the horses became restless.

Several animals snorted nervously.

One nearly reared.

The forest had noticed them.

Elena felt it.

A presence.

Invisible but undeniable.

Watching.

The feeling intensified.

Then came the scream.

Far away.

Human.

Every rider immediately turned toward the sound.

Another scream followed.

Closer.

Then silence.

Alaric drew his sword.

Move.

The group surged forward.

Branches whipped past.

Roots twisted beneath the horses.

The forest seemed determined to slow them.

Yet they pushed deeper.

Soon they reached a clearing.

And stopped.

The scene before them looked like a battlefield.

Several wagons lay overturned.

Supplies scattered across the ground.

Broken weapons.

Blood.

Too much blood.

Elena felt her pulse spike.

A merchant caravan.

Destroyed.

The attack had happened recently.

Very recently.

Bodies lay across the clearing.

Men and women.

Guards.

Travelers.

None appeared to have survived.

Rowan dismounted immediately.

Searching.

Checking.

Looking for movement.

Then he froze.

Someone's alive.

Everyone rushed toward the far side of the clearing.

A young man lay against a wagon wheel.

Barely conscious.

Deep wounds covered his arms.

His breathing was shallow.

Lyra knelt beside him.

Easy.

You're safe.

The survivor's eyes opened.

Fear filled them instantly.

No.

He whispered.

They're still here.

Who?

The man looked toward the trees.

The Hollow Ones.

The name silenced everyone.

Elena remembered the reports.

The creatures seen near the northern watchtower.

What did you see?

The survivor trembled.

People.

At first they looked like people.

Then they changed.

His voice cracked.

Empty eyes.

Black skin.

No faces.

They walked through arrows.

Walked through swords.

Nothing stopped them.

The clearing became deathly quiet.

The man grabbed Lyra's arm.

They're looking for her.

Everyone froze.

Lyra frowned.

Who?

The map-bearer.

Elena felt ice run through her veins.

The survivor's eyes settled directly on her.

They know you're here.

His grip tightened.

And they know your name.

Before anyone could react, the forest exploded with sound.

Branches snapped.

Trees shook.

Something moved through the shadows.

Something large.

Something fast.

The horses panicked immediately.

Guards drew weapons.

Rowan stepped in front of Elena.

Stay behind me.

The trees surrounding the clearing darkened unnaturally.

Shadows stretched across the ground.

Then figures emerged.

One.

Two.

Five.

Ten.

Tall shapes walked between the trees.

Humanoid.

But wrong.

Their skin resembled cracked stone.

Their eyes were empty black voids.

Their faces lacked mouths.

Lacked expressions.

Lacked humanity.

The Hollow Ones.

Elena immediately understood why the kingdom feared them.

The creatures stopped at the edge of the clearing.

Watching.

Waiting.

One stepped forward.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Then it pointed directly at Elena.

A voice echoed through the forest.

Not from the creature.

From somewhere much farther away.

Somewhere much older.

The map-bearer.

At last.

King Alaric's expression hardened.

Kael.

The voice laughed.

A cold, hollow sound.

The prison weakens, brother.

Soon.

Very soon.

The Hollow Ones began advancing.

Rowan raised his sword.

Guards formed a defensive line.

Magic gathered around Lyra's hands.

And Elena realized the journey north had ended.

The war had begun.