21.- The feast of shadows

The girl advanced with a firm but silent step, her warm hand clasped around Sebastian's as she guided him beyond the subterranean forest. The trees loomed like twisted figures, their gnarled trunks covered in black moss that seemed to absorb the bluish light of the bioluminescent vines. The branches, intertwined in a suffocating embrace, dripped viscous filaments that grazed Sebastian's skin like cold fingers. The air was thick with humidity, an acrid stench of rotting earth and a metallic whisper that seeped into every breath, fraying his nerves.

Sebastian, trapped in the fog of his amnesia, allowed himself to be led by her. There was no logic in his decision, only a visceral instinct that bound him to this young woman with golden skin and sharp horns. Under the dim light, her slender figure was silhouetted against the shadows, the curve of her back barely covered by the leaves he had woven, worn and damp from the environment. The touch of her skin against his made his pulse race, a mixture of protectiveness and something darker that he didn't dare name.

She moved with an unconscious grace, her steps barely disturbing the soft ground, as if the forest recognized her as its own. Her green eyes, shining in the gloom, scanned the surroundings with an animal intensity. Sebastian followed her, his hands empty, feeling his vulnerability in every distant creak, every shadow that seemed to twist in the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her body tensed, a tremor running through her muscles beneath her shining skin. Sebastian stumbled, his breath caught in his throat. She raised her head, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. A low, guttural growl escaped her lips, and her eyes fixed on the thicket with a ferocity that chilled Sebastian's blood.

He tried to see, but the bluish darkness was an impenetrable veil. He only felt the tension emanating from her, an electric current that made his skin prickle. "What's out there?" he murmured, more to himself than to her, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

The girl didn't speak. Her lips remained sealed, but her body responded. She crouched in a fluid, almost feline movement, her fingers sinking into the damp earth. A shadow detached itself from her silhouette, not a conscious act, but an echo of her instinct, sliding across the ground like spilled ink. Esmeralda, the mantis, emerged from the gloom beside her, her scythes gleaming with a sinister reflection.

Sebastian hid behind a tree, his heart pounding against his ribs. He couldn't fight, he couldn't do anything but watch, but his eyes couldn't leave her. He saw her advance, the line of her shoulders tense, the slight sway of her hips beneath the broken leaves. She was beautiful, yes, but also terrifying, and that duality captivated him.

A dry crack broke the silence, followed by an animalistic gasp. From the shadows, three figures emerged: goblins with greenish, pustulous skin, their red eyes glowing like embers. One brandished a broken spear, another a club studded with bone spikes, and the third, smaller one, clutched a chipped knife. There weren't many of them, but their stench – a mixture of stale sweat and rotting meat – filled the air, turning Sebastian's stomach.

"Grakk!" growled the goblin with the spear, raising it clumsily. (Intruder!).

The girl didn't move, but the shadows did. They rose from the ground like living claws, twisting with a will of their own, black and sharp as obsidian. The goblin let out a high-pitched scream, "Shargak!" (Magic!), before a shadow pierced his chest. The flesh tore with a wet sound, a jet of black blood splattering the roots. The body convulsed, eyes wide as its entrails spilled out in a viscous mess.

Esmeralda leaped towards the second goblin, her scythes cutting through the air with a whistle. The club fell to the ground as one claw ripped the arm from its shoulder, the bone splintering into white fragments that gleamed briefly under the blue light. The goblin shrieked, a harrowing sound that was drowned out by a gurgle as the second scythe sliced through its throat, the head hanging by only a shred of skin.

The third goblin tried to flee, stumbling among the roots, but Aurora's shadows caught him. A black claw wrapped around his leg, crushing the bone with a dry crack. The goblin fell, clawing at the ground as another shadow pierced his back, his lungs exploding in a burst of blood and air. His body twisted, limbs twitching in grotesque spasms before going still.

Sebastian clung to the tree, his fingernails digging into the bark. The smell of blood and guts hit him like a punch, his stomach churning with nausea. But he couldn't look away from the girl. She remained motionless, her arms limp at her sides, the shadows dancing around her like a living cloak. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and a smile – cruel, sadistic, satisfied – curved her lips. It was a cold delight, a silent pleasure in the carnage that contrasted with the sweetness with which she had looked at him before.

The slaughter ended as quickly as it began. The silence returned, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the dripping of blood onto the roots. Esmeralda returned to Aurora's side, her carapace stained red, her multifaceted eyes fixed on the young woman as if awaiting an order that never came.

She turned to Sebastian. The sadistic smile faded, replaced by a softer, almost tender expression. She extended a hand to him, her fingers trembling slightly, covered in dirt and a dark splatter that he didn't want to identify. The contrast struck him like lightning: the ruthless killer and the vulnerable young woman, both coexisting within her.

Sebastian swallowed, his pulse pounding in his ears. He couldn't move, caught between horror and a fascination that shamed him. He saw her approach, the slight sheen of her skin under the blue light, the torn leaves revealing the curve of her waist. Her presence enveloped him, warm and dangerous, and for an instant he forgot the shattered bodies at their feet.

She took his hand, interlacing her fingers with a gentleness that belied the violence of moments before. Her green eyes looked at him, bright and expectant, and a subtle warmth rose up Sebastian's arm, mixing with the cold of fear. He didn't understand what she wanted, but her grip was firm, a silent plea for him to follow.

She pointed to a crevice in the ground, half-hidden by moss and broken branches, a tunnel that descended into an even deeper darkness. Without releasing his hand, she slid inside, her figure disappearing into the shadows. Esmeralda followed, the scrape of her scythes against the stone resonating like a sinister echo.

Sebastian hesitated, his breath caught in his throat. Blood was still dripping around him, the air thick with the stench of death. But the young woman's hand, warm and alive, anchored him. He couldn't abandon her, couldn't leave her to face alone what lurked in those depths. With a shudder, he crouched down and entered after her, the tunnel closing around him like a tomb.

The passage was narrow, the walls slippery and cold, the smell of ozone and decay suffocating him. Aurora moved ahead, her silhouette barely visible, but her presence guided him like a beacon in the gloom. Esmeralda brought up the rear, the crunch of her steps a constant reminder of the power that accompanied them.

The tunnel opened into a larger chamber, the walls covered in lichens that emitted a sickly glow. In the center, a pool of fresh blood reflected the light, and beside it, a lone goblin, smaller and more emaciated, gnawed on a bone with yellowed teeth. Seeing them, he let out a shriek, "Kragg!" (Danger!), and lunged at them with a rusty knife.

The girl didn't hesitate. The shadows erupted again, instinctive and ferocious, enveloping the goblin in a black whirlwind. One claw ripped off his jaw with a wet snap, exposing the trembling tongue before another pierced his skull, the brain splattering against the wall in a grayish explosion. The body fell, legs kicking in the air in a final grotesque spasm.

Sebastian backed away, his hands trembling against the stone. The violence was a brutal spectacle, but the girl's eyes – cold, bright, satisfied – captivated him more than the blood. She turned to him, the shadows dissipating, and offered him a sweet, almost childlike smile. Her fingers tightened around his, warm and soft, as if the massacre was a gift to share.

"Dear..." he whispered, his voice cracking. He couldn't fight, he couldn't stop her. He could only stand there, a mute witness to her darkness and her light.

She pointed towards the back of the chamber, where the darkness thickened, an abyss that promised more horrors. With his hand in hers, she guided him forward, the echo of their steps resonating like a heartbeat in the gloom.