Amiri rode the Clawvern along a darkened path, where puddles scattered across the road caught the glow of his lantern. The scent of damp earth rose slowly with the wind, mingling with the soft patter of rain like a lullaby. Black leaves rustled and fell as he crossed a swaying wooden suspension bridge hanging over a deep chasm, the roar of the water echoing far below.

  A man lay wounded at the far end of the bridge. Amiri hurried off the Clawvern.

  “Are you—” was all the young man managed to say.

  A blade flashed past Amiri’s throat—missing by less than an inch.

  The hiss of a sword ripping free of its sheath!

  The man collapsed instantly.

  Two others rushed forward, only to recoil. They didn’t even have time to turn and flee.

  The Clawvern leapt, mauling one of the unlucky men.

  He screamed in agony.

  Amiri calmly stepped forward to grab the bow from Dusk, still gnawing on the man’s body.

  The bowstring drew taut… and an arrow shot straight through the fleeing man.

  Amiri searched the lifeless man’s body and found only a handful of silver coins and a crumpled, folded piece of paper.

  He unfolded the old paper. Faint words were scrawled across it:

  "Alan, you can come home now… I miss you. Love, Mom"

  Amiri’s hand trembled, the metallic tang of blood hanging heavy in the air.

  Until the day he finally met his father and Iris, Amiri didn’t know what he was turning into.

  From the documents Uncle Will had provided. The latest trail of their movements led east to the Thousand Lakes, a northern land surrounded by a thousand shimmering lakes. But for now, he remained in Blackwood, a realm almost entirely cloaked in dark forests, where sunlight rarely pierced the forest floor.

  In the stillest moment… a young stag dashed across Amiri’s path, sending clouds of dust swirling in its wake.

  This forest stretched above the city of Lunacia, divided in the middle by a river that flowed eastward to the sea.

  It is said that once, before the conquest of the Blue Dynasty, Prince Agnar Emmerich of Blackwood vanished without a trace. The king sent people to search for him, but none ever returned.

  In addition, tales speak of a colossal black fox that roams these very forests.

  The rain gradually eased, and the sky turned a soft shade of orange. After several days of travel, Amiri spotted a faint wisp of smoke not far ahead.

  He came upon a small village by a creek, surrounded by a haphazard wooden palisade. Chickens ran freely and filled the air with their clucks. Only a handful of houses stood in a row. Some were little more than broken wooden remnants and seemed uninhabited. Around the village, bones and animal hides hung in the open. The acrid smell of tanned leather and smoke lingered heavily.

  Amiri planned to rest on a soft bed for a few days before returning to the unpredictable road ahead.

  The sound of a knife slicing through flesh gradually grew louder. A man stood busy butchering a deer, while a boy ran about playing with a large dog.

  “Is there… anywhere I can stay for the night?” Amiri asked.

  The boy flinched the moment he caught sight of the Clawvern.

  “His name is Dusk,” Amiri said with a gentle smile.

  “The rooms are this way. I can show you—” He didn’t finish. The brown dog bounded ahead, leading them on.

  Before them stood a weathered two-story lodge, worn with age though its windows remained clear. The soft murmur of running water drifted from a small waterwheel still turning outside. Amiri thanked the boy and handed him a silver coin.

  He pushed the door open.

  Inside waited an empty room with no bread and no scent of ale, only an old wooden counter beneath the flicker of candlelight.

  “Sven, you’re back, dear!” a woman’s voice called from inside.

  She stepped closer to Amiri, gently cupping his face with both hands.

  Amiri stood frozen, unsure of what to do in this moment.

  “It’s not Sven, Mother. He’s a guest.” A girl stepped forward and took her trembling mother’s hand.

  “My name is Freya. May I ask how many will be staying?” she asked with a gentle smile.

  “Just one,” Amiri replied curtly.

  “Please head upstairs. Your room is the one at the very end.” The blonde girl handed him a key.

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  “But we don’t serve meals here, I’m afraid.”

  “Have you heard of Lady Charlotte Lockwood? She disappeared in Myrkwood.

  Anyone who brings her back will be handsomely rewarded by the Count.

  You’re not interested? The Count might even grant you the lady herself.”

  “Who’d be fool enough to go into that forest? I’ve never seen anyone come back out.”

  The murmur of voices followed Amiri as he walked past.

  The young man noticed a drawing of a woman posted outside the tavern. He paused for a moment, but the enticing scent of smoke pulled him onward.

  Inside was a small dining room, crowded despite its size. The air was thick with the smell of ale, woodsmoke, and fresh bread, and the low hum of conversation blended with the crackle of logs burning in the hearth.

  Before long, a young woman in an apron brought out a plate of smoked chicken salad.

  “Where is Myrkwood?” Amiri asked.

  “You really haven’t heard of it?” she replied, her voice lifting in surprise.

  Amiri shook his head as he cut into the meat.

  “Myrkwood is the forest north of here. It connects to the town of Fornburg, but no one dares travel through it anymore. Merchants and caravans all take different routes,” the young woman explained as she poured a cup of warm milk.

  “What’s in there?” Amiri raised an eyebrow.

  “No one truly knows.” She gave a small shake of her head, a faint smile touching her lips.

  Amiri met her gaze. The tavern buzzed with noise around them, yet in that brief moment, he caught the lingering scent of a mystery that refused to fade.

  Amiri’s room, though old, was surprisingly neat. Everything was arranged simply, with a writing desk, a wardrobe, and a soft, inviting bed by the window. The night was quiet, made darker by the absence of stars, with only the faint whisper of wind drifting in.

  Then a small light appeared. A woman stepped out holding a lantern, looking both disheveled and confused.

  Before long, a girl hurried over and led her back to the lodging.

  Amiri’s first night in the village passed. He hadn’t slept this well in a long time.

  It wasn’t until he heard the crowing of roosters calling the sun that he rose, stretching lazily. The water here was perfectly warm. After dressing, Amiri made his way down the stairs, but just as he was about to head out for breakfast…

  “Did you sleep well?” the little girl asked.

  He nodded.

  “Well…” she hesitated, gathering her courage.

  “My brother disappeared, and Mother never came back to be the same again.

  He once told me that if I thought of him, I should close my eyes and make a wish,

  and he would come back… But he lied. He never came back.”

  The little girl’s tears spilled freely.

  Amiri’s eyes flicked to the small family portrait resting on the counter, and he didn’t know how to comfort her.

  Time passed, from the calm of twilight to a storm that lashed the dark night. The wind howled through the area, yet a small light appeared once more. Amiri saw the girl carrying a rake and a lantern, heading toward the northern forest. Without hesitation, he ran from the lodging almost immediately.

  “Freya!” Amiri called, grabbing her arm.

  “Let me go! I’m going to find my brother!” the girl sobbed.

  “I can’t bear to see Mother nearly losing her mind every day any longer!”

  He paused for a moment.

  Tears streamed down Freya’s cheeks.

  Amiri slowly reached out and gently stroked the girl’s hair.

  Amiri stepped into Myrkwood, a dark forest glimmering with the green light of fireflies. Towering trees lined the path, their leaves trembling in the strong wind, while the distant hoot of an owl sounded like a whisper.

  He came across a narrow trail that seemed out of place, along with a faded, unreadable sign and the wreckage of a broken-down carriage. The path led him to a fork in the road.

  Ahead, the path thickened with mist and dense trees, while to the west it sloped downward. He chose the western way, believing it would lead him to a stream.

  At the water’s end, the stream trickled gently beneath the ruins of a decayed wooden bridge. Along the banks, an old bell lay half-resting in the shallows, its faint scent of rust mingling with the damp earth, like fragments of time unwilling to fade. Above, roots wrapped around a stone frame that might once have been a cottage or small dwelling.

  Yet a small light appeared not far off… a house emerged near the ruins of a crumbling wall.

  Amiri could hardly believe his eyes, but before he could step closer…

  Silence crept in, so deep he could hear his own heartbeat,

  before a shadow lunged toward him.

  The roar of a sword tore through the darkness!

  Something in a black cloak flashed so quickly that Amiri could hardly follow it. He could not defend against it entirely. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, and in that instant, he saw it…

  A towering figure, tangled hair, pale skin, eyes glowing orange, a skull elongated unnaturally. Its head was crowned with twisted antlers, stag-like in form, its mouth full of fangs, a tongue lashing like a demon’s, claws sharp as blades, the stench of rotting flesh clinging to it—and it let out a scream that pierced the ears.

  The edge of his sword grazed its neck by mere inches.

  Its claws sliced past him…

  The pain slowed his movements.

  The demon froze, fixating on the lantern on the ground.

  It bared its teeth in a grim smile before lunging forward.

  Amiri gripped his sword with both hands… and swung it back.

  SLASH! The metal tore through flesh, crimson blood splattering.

  A long, wailing scream echoed!

  The beast collapsed where it stood. Amiri stepped toward it slowly.

  “Don’t hurt her!” a man shouted.

  Amiri met his gaze for a brief moment. It was Freya’s long-lost brother.

  But as Amiri raised his blade to strike…

  In an instant, the figure transformed into a beautiful young woman.

  She was Lady Charlotte Lockwood, the count’s daughter.

  “Step back. She’s luring you,” Amiri said evenly.

  “No! I love her!” the young man threw himself in front of the sword.

  “You’re so selfish,” Amiri sighed.

  He turned and walked away… leaving the young man cradling the frail, trembling woman in his arms.

  The sobs rose quietly,

  but he didn’t look back.

  That same night… on the far side of the kingdom,

  two lanterns flickered in the darkness.

  “What exactly is here, Kvicha?!” a man demanded, his breath misting in the cold air.

  “I don’t know… but I won’t let anyone take it,” another voice echoed back.

  The blizzard raged, driving the frozen pickaxe into the wrecked tram until it splintered with a shattering crash.

  The sound of cracking… drew closer.

  Something… was calling for them.