The woods were eerily silent as I made my way toward the direction of the scream. My steps were cautious, each one pressing lightly into the damp soil. Shadows danced with every sway of the trees above, and the faint rustling of leaves seemed louder than it should.
I materialized my dual daggers, their familiar weight grounding me. Their faint orange glow pulsed softly, swirling with a haze of mist that coiled and wavered like smoke on the wind. My grip tightened, and I scanned the surroundings
Every inch of this forest felt alive, but not with the kind of life you'd want to meet.
After a few minutes of quiet but tense walking, the smell hit me... metallic and sharp, the unmistakable scent of blood.
Then I saw it.
A body lay sprawled across the forest floor, illuminated faintly by the mist-light of my daggers. But it wasn't the kind of sight you could look at for long without your stomach turning. What remained of the corpse was stripped of most of its skin, exposing raw flesh and, in some areas, bare bone. Parts of it reflected wetly, as though something had gnawed it clean.
I stopped almost instantly, bile rising in my throat. My stomach churned with a mix of disgust and anger as my mind pieced together the grim reality.
"This isn't human cruelty," I thought, my fists clenched slightly. "This is definitely the work of one of the tower's monsters."
I crouched beside the body, my daggers dematerializing into thin wisps of mist. My hands searched over the remains, trying to make sense of who this was... or had been. But there was nothing left. No clothes, no items, nothing to even hint at their identity.
Whoever they were, they'd been erased.
I stood, wiping my hands against my trouser as if that would rid me of the filth of this place. I'll need to use my mist to detect any movement nearby, I murmured to myself.
Drawing a deep breath, I let my mist unravel. It began to expand from my larvae, curling outward like a ghostly tendrils. Slowly, it crept through the forest, touching everything like a crawling fog. Each pulse connected me further to the woods, feeding me a growing awareness of the shapes and movements around me.
But then I froze.
A sound. Footsteps.
I pulled back the mist in an instant, stopping the expansion. I dematerialized my dual dagger.
From the shadows, a figure emerged, walking toward me with an easy, casual stride.
Celia.
Her familiar, easygoing smile brightened her face as she stepped into the faint glow of the mist I hadn't recalled. "Agon, you're not asleep yet?" she asked, tilting her head in mock curiosity.
My eyes narrowed, but I kept my voice steady. "Not sleepy yet," I replied. My grip on my focus remained tight as I added, "Why are you out here so late at night?"
Celia chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to carry too far in the stillness. "I should ask the same of you, but..." She let her words linger, then continued, "I wasn't sleepy either. I decided to take a stroll." Her tone was light, casual, as though we weren't in a death-ridden forest.
She came closer, her gaze fixed on me. "Your turn," she added, her voice playful.
I hesitated for a moment before speaking, my words slow and deliberate. "You missed something."
Her expression didn't change, but I felt her attention sharpen.
"You forgot the details that make you.... Celia," I said, taking a single step back as I let the mist seep out around us again. "For starters, you were here before me while supposedly 'asleep.' Celia would've checked my tent first. And most importantly..."
I stopped, letting my Mist Sword materialize in my hands. Its glowing edge hummed faintly in the stillness, illuminating the space between us.
"You copied her face," I said, my voice dropping an octave, "but not her presence."
The Celia before me froze, her head tilting unnaturally far to one side. For a brief second, the forest felt like it held its breath.
Then, a smile began to crack across her face.... too wide, too slow, and filled with a wrongness that made my skin crawl.
Her eyes darkened, becoming pits of abyssal black. When she spoke, her voice shattered the fragile silence, low and cracked, resonating with a spiritual weight that seemed to ripple through the air.
"Nice.. You Got Me..."