Chapter 9 – I would never fly in this hole

We decide to venture around, leaving the makeshift tent behind.

As we walk through the enchanted forest, the towering trees loom overhead, their branches interwoven to create a natural canopy. The foliage glistens, and the magical traps that once seemed ominous now appear almost ethereal in the soft glow of the sunlight.

The air is filled with the fragrance of the enchanted woods, a blend of earth, moss, and the faint hint of magic.

Each step is accompanied by the gentle squish of mud beneath our boots, and the occasional rustle of leaves as creatures stir in the sky above us.

As we delve deeper into the forest, a peculiar sight catches our attention—an old derelict, what appears to be the remnants of a small steampunk airplane. The wreckage is overgrown with vines and moss, even the fuselage is covered in moss. Delicate leaves flutter in the breeze, and tiny flowers bloom in the most unexpected places.

"Well… airplane is one way to travel down here," Mila says with a scoff. 

Rich and impatient people enjoyed traveling down to the depths by any means necessary, usually airplanes required less skills than the gear we used. 

I cautiously step into the small airplane, vines brushing against my shoulders as I navigate the overgrown cockpit.

The air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and the musty remnants of forgotten machinery.

Sunlight filters through the ivy-laden windows, casting a warm glow on the abandoned controls.

I run my fingers along the once-polished panels, now coated in a fine layer of dust and grime. The vines have infiltrated every nook and cranny, their tendrils winding around levers and switches.

The pilot's seat, draped in a tangle of vines, sits as a throne amidst the organic chaos.

I carefully lift a few leaves to reveal the tarnished brass of the control yoke. As I search for anything of value, my fingers graze over abandoned maps and faded charts.

Moving further into the cabin, I find the storage compartments, their doors creaking open reluctantly. Dust-covered tools and mechanical parts lay scattered. The scent of aged leather wafts from forgotten pilot manuals and logbooks, now brittle and delicate in my hands. 

I explore the cargo hold, hoping to discover a hidden compartment or forgotten treasure. However, my search yields only more rusted gears and spoiled food.

Mila, who is searching by my side, now pouts.

"No need to get upset," I say although I can't hide my disappointment either.

We leave the abandoned airplanes behind. To my surprise, the landscape undergoes a transformation. The dense forest gradually opens up, revealing a vast clearing that stretches as far as the eye can see.

The towering trees that once loomed overhead now give way to a more expansive terrain, creating a surreal sense of openness and mystery.

The ground beneath our feet becomes uneven, with occasional dips and rises.

Strange rock formations emerge from the earth, their shapes and contours forming an otherworldly spectacle.

Some rocks jut out at odd angles, while others appear to defy gravity, creating a landscape that is both eerie and mesmerizing.

The air in this clearing carries a different energy, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that heightens our senses.

The distant sounds of the giant hole resonate differently here, echoing through the open expanse with an ethereal quality. 

As we exit the forest altogether, a view I don't expect to the slightest hit me all at once.

"How is this possible?!" Mila exclaims in disbelief.

Ahead of us lies a surreal scene—hundreds of airplanes, similar to the one we just inspected, scattered across the landscape like an ancient graveyard of failed expeditions.

The remnants of wooden helicopter blades, rusted propellers, and weathered fuselages create a haunting sight.

Nature has woven its way into the wreckage, reclaiming these relics of exploration with vines and moss, as if attempting to erase the traces of past endeavors.

I've heard and read of other expeditions, but never I imagined a view as such. The sheer number of airplanes speaks to the magnitude of attempts made to traverse the giant hole.

Each aircraft holds untold stories, dreams, and perhaps despair of those who once dared to venture into the mystical depths. 

Mila looks up. "What could cause so many airplanes to crash here, out of all places?"

I don't know, to be honest. I've read of different theories, magnetic fields? Magic? Our scientists might have been ahead of their times but our technology was not.

"Well let's get searching," I say while doing the math in my head.

There are too many airplanes, it will probably take two days to go through them all.