The moon sat high in the Envelon Forest, a shimmering coin hung suspended in the perpetual black. Its light poured through the branches in fractured beams, shrouding the wilds in an otherworldly glow. Shadows lay long between trees, dancing with the night breeze that rustled through the branches.
Beneath that moonlight, there lay a lake, a glassy sheet in the midst of the chaos of the forest. The surface rippled delicately, scattering the reflection of stars across its breadth. The water rippled silently, lapping the shores with soft caresses, as silver-scaled fish burst the surface in carefree arcs, their splashes glinting in the light as if diamonds showered the surface.
It was beautiful. Unnaturally beautiful.
Luther stumbled to the shore of the lake, breath misting in the cold air. "Alright," he growled, rubbing his eyes, "either I’m dreaming or this forest finally decided it was going to have to let up and kill me for a five-minute break."
The forest answered with nothing.
"Why does it feel is some horror story setup?" Luther growled, swiping at the sleep in his eyes.
The laughter reappeared, airy and light, like children huddled behind a curtain. Strands of golden motes danced merrily on the lakeshore, skimming the water as if to the rhythm of a melody they alone could hear. Their light brushed across the waves, shooting blue and gold sparks into the air.
Luther slowed to a walk, his chest pumping. "Okay... lights. I followed you as far as I wanted. Any chance you’re going to tell us why you’re here?"
Of course, they didn’t. They twirled and clustered together, creating a butterfly-shaped ring around him before skittering towards the other end of the lake.
Luther crossed his arms over his chest, muttering. "Right. Just keep ignoring me. You’d better not be leading me to some gothic monster lair. I swear on my life, if I get eaten because I trusted a bunch of glowing fireflies, I’m haunting you. And trust me—I’d be the bane of your existence as a ghost."
The motes sparkled back in response, as though teasing his protest.
Luther glanced over at the lake once more. The vista struck him with a sudden pang—he’d traversed Envelon before, if only in the story of the book, but he couldn’t recall any place being told. For the first time, he realized something that sent a fine shiver up his spine.
Not in the book. Not in the story he thought he knew.
The motes beckoned again, pulling him away from the lakeside. With a sigh, Luther huffed, "Fine. But if this turns out badly, I’m blaming you."
The way grew darker where the motes darted away from him. Luther trailed after them reluctantly, leaping over a fallen tree, then scrambling up a shallow pothole, then dashing into a run in an effort to pass a broad chasm in the ground.
When he descended, he noticed something that halted him in his stride.
There was a nearby tree with a ragged wound, ripped deep into its bark. Claw wound. The furrows were wider than his arm, and they glowed faintly under moonlight. Luther hunched over closer and drew back—the edges still damp with new blood.
".Oh, that’s comforting," Luther whispered, sarcasm slicing through the quiet.
The wind cut across him, cold and sharp. He shivered, crossing his arms over his chest, and involuntarily recoiled. His heel caught on something soft. Something that gave way under his weight.
Luther turned, invoking his magic on reflex, ready to blast
—and came to a standstill.
Before him was a corpse. The snake. The very same serpent they had battled the night before, its massive coils stretched out on the forest floor like a felled tree. Its scales torn asunder, its belly torn apart as if some horror had dipped inside and ripped it open.
Luther coughed into his sleeve, backing up until the marked tree bumped his shoulder. He stared from the claw mark to the corpse.
".So," he whispered, voice shaking, "our little stalker... had a run-in with something bigger."
He shuddered. The snake had been a monster itself—quick, deadly, cunning. And something out there had ripped it open like carrion.
The motes laughed again, breaking his focus. They floated aimlessly in the air, calling to him deeper into the woods.
Luther groaned. "Seriously? We just passed a crime scene, and you still need me to chase after it? You’re either the bravest things I’ve ever seen... or the dumbest."
Still, he was not brave enough to linger. Not with whatever had torn up the snake still loose in the air. Looking back once more at the body, he trudged on after the motes.
He had no notion of how long it lasted. His legs hurt, his breathing grew feeble, and all he could manage was to collapse onto the ground and sleep.
"Where the dickens are you leading me?" he grumbled, nearly tripping over another root.
And the lights stopped. Before him was a mountain face, its rock surface blending into shadows. At its base was an entrance to a cave, between which stood two colossal stone eagles. Their wings were spread, talons carved as if in the process of attacking. The artwork was so life-like that it gave Luther goosebumps.
A circle of brightly colored flowers bloomed around the mouth of the cave, shining softly in the darkness. Vines sprawled across the rocks, lined with flowers, and unblemished by decay or darkness. The whole thing appeared more like the entrance to a sacred shrine than anything that should be found in the accursed Envelon Forest. Get full chapters from N()velFire.net
And that was precisely why Luther hesitated.
This. doesn’t fit, he panted. "This whole forest is a graveyard. How the hell does a paradise just pop up in the middle of that?
He absent-mindedly touched his crystal earring, remembering. His master’s voice echoed in his mind—the day he sealed his raw magic within it, warning him of its dangers. Ever since then, Luther had kept it locked up, hidden. But now, here, his magic stirred again. Seething. Calling him out.
It ached within his chest.
"Shit," he complained, crossing his arms. "This is a bad idea. A cave in the middle of monster land, with suspicious flowers and spooky statues? Yeah, this is a setup waiting to happen."
He just stood there for a couple of minutes, gawping, suffering. But eventually, he couldn’t resist.
"...Okay," he puffed. "But I’m serious, I’m haunting everyone if I die."
He began to step forward.
The eagle statues loomed over him, wings outstretched as sentinels. He had sworn their eyes followed him as he passed beneath them, but he refused to let himself look too strongly.
Mute, one of the stone eyes flickered—moving ever so slightly to gaze out into the cave—once he stepped within.
Darkness surrounded him. Not a strand of moonlight came through. Luther reached out a hand to the wall, feeling his way in the dark. His boots scraped against stone with every step, ringing down the endless tunnel.
"This is idiotic," he said. "It’s blundering into an empty space. Great idea, Luther. Real great idea."
He lay out, his earring against his skin. His crystal glowed faintly as he sucked in mana and formed a light spell. But before he could cast it, one of the motes returned.
It glowed like a candle in the darkness, orbiting him once before streaking on ahead to illuminate the path.
Luther relaxed his shoulders in relief. "Finally. Thought you’d abandoned me. Good to know you’re half-bad, then."
He walked, his spirits a little lifted. Step by step, however, the tunnel continued endlessly. His yawns returned, his body calling out for rest.
"Should be in bed," he growled. "Warm bed. Good blanket. No scary caves. Why do I listen to shiny things?."
But then—in a flash—the mote was gone.
Blackness consumed him completely.
Luther froze, caught breath. His heart thundered in his ears as terror clutched at his chest.
He lurched forward, arms waving, searching for any trace of the light. Nothing. Just quiet and darkness pressing in on him.
"Great," he panted. "Drought to a cave by magic fireflies just to get dumped. Story of my life."
His rage burst out, and with a curse, he chose to take a risk.
He took one step forward.
And fell straight through.