You sure are one ugly looking goat f**king off breed, aren’t ya?

The trees swayed ominously overhead, witnesses to both our training. I turned my focus from Viscoff, the mountains of muscle and armor. His metal armor flickered like the flames in battle, even as his eyes, sharp and intelligent, scanned the forest with a glimmer of mischief.

"Enough!" Viscoff boomed, dropping his axe with a thud that echoed against the trees. Both of us had pushed our limits, each blow striking a balance between improvement and pride. With the sweat still cooling on our skin, a voice from beyond joined us.

"Breakfast is served, you two meat heads," Dehya called, a teasing lilt coloring her words as she flitted about. Her essence shone like vibrant flowers against the ashen backdrop of the woods, and her purple eyes held both perilous an endearing softness that made you forget all but the moment.

Orion leapt from his Rock, licking his lips, ready for the feast she'd prepared. I followed him, allowing a smile to crack my usually stoic demeanor as we gathered at the table outside our crude camp of tents.

The aroma of spiced bread hung thick in the air, but as we sat gleefully digging into the meal, a different sound splintered through the laughter. Footsteps—soft yet deliberate.

We turned simultaneously, and my heart leaped at the sight of the marksman, who had lain gravely wounded not long ago. Just yesterday, he had seemed a ghost of himself, marred by wounds that painted his skin with scars. But now, a smile broke across his face, no longer an image of despair but of resilience.

"Thank you for saving me," he said. "I am indebted to you all. But I will be taking my leave now."

"Sir, you were on the verge of dying yesterday," Viscoff replied firmly, his tone like the echo of thunder. "Please, take a seat and join us for breakfast."

With a resigned nod, Ben complied, sinking into the seat beside me. He gave us his name, Benjamin Gallen, and I couldn't help but notice how oddly youthful he seemed, despite the shadows still under his eyes.

"We heard that your skills are impressive," I ventured, curious about the maker of the elegant bow now eating his bread while dipping it into a coffee that Dehya handed him. "What happened to you in the forest?"

Ben's expression darkened, and for a moment, I could see the weariness bearing down on his spirit. "A group of satyrs took my wife," he began, voice tight with sorrow. "The dark forces are rising, and I sought out the guilds in Teyonora, but no one would help me. So I went after her alone."

As he recounted his tale, we fell silent, wrapped in the gravity of his words.

"I was sat in a tree, downing them one by one, camouflaging myself among the willows. I had them on the run," he said, reliving his triumphs with a spark in his eyes before it dimmed. "But then... a monstrous Satyr appeared—four times the size of the others, radiating a dark purple aura. I tried to flee, but he caught me mid-air and hurled me like a rag doll, rupturing my flesh. Landing against the base of a tree." His voice cracked slightly but gathered strength. "Then, just as darkness was swallowing me whole, the satyr sprinted at me with great force, tearing at my chest with its razor like nails, a divine light washed over me, retreating the creature as it ran making sounds of pain. I don't know how it happened, but when I passed out, I felt... nothing."

"No more delays, then," Viscoff said, rising from his seat, determination etching his features. "We will help you get your wife back. If this threat is as dark as you say, we can stand together and face it."

Ben's eyes widened in gratitude, but a sobering dread soon overshadowed it. "You don't understand," he rasped, "the longer I wait, the higher the chance she—"

"Then let's move. The shadows probably don't wait." My voice rang out, lending strength to the resolve swelling in the air.

With Orion stretching luxuriously upon my shoulder and Dehya's determination at the ready, we turned our backs on the Camp that was just before us, entering deeper into the oppressive embrace of the willow forest. The darkness swirled like twisted tendrils, eager to seal our fates in its grasp as we followed the echoes of despair. Together, we would confront the unknown and face the darkness rising against us.

Together, we would find his wife.

——

The willow trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their drooping branches creating a shroud of shadows that danced menacingly around us. I could feel Orion's weight shift slightly as he sat on my head, his black and gold fur a striking contrast against my teal hair. I took a steadying breath, my grip tightening around the handle of my sword—a dragon coiled around the hilt, its golden scales glinting even in the dim light.

"All set, Zain?" Dehya asked, her vibrant purple eyes locked onto the path ahead. With her wand at the ready, she looked both fierce and ethereal, as if she were a guardian spirit of the forest itself.

"Always," I replied. Remembering the sparring match I had with Viscoff. It was simply a backdrop to the instant I found myself in, one filled with the familiar buzz of danger.

The crunch of dead branches snapped me back to the present. Eyes darting, I heard them before I saw them—satyrs, their twisted forms emerging from the shadows like nightmares made of flesh. Just as I was about to alert the group, it was too late; it was upon us.

I was the first to move. Drawing on the skills Orion had imbued in me with his ancient sword techniques, I let the chaos flow through my body. In an unsteady yet fluid motion, I twisted and rolled, channeling the drunken sword style. My blade sliced cleanly, and with a swift motion, I severed the head of the first satyr that came too close, its body collapsing to the ground like a rag doll.

Another sprang from the trees, swinging a crude weapon my way. I braced myself for impact, but Ben was quicker. An arrow—a deep crimson blaze—shot forth from his bow, spiraling through the air with an almost inaudible whisper before erupting into flames as it pierced the satyr's chest. The creature fell, engulfed in a fiery inferno, turning to ashes that scattered into the forest floor.

"Nice shot!" I called, just as three more forms surged toward us. With no time to waste, Viscoff charged in. He was like a living boulder, his Viking armor glinting ominously in the waning light. With his massive axe hoisted on his shoulder, he barreled into the first satyr, sending it and the others tumbling like pins in a bowling alley.

His axe sliced through them without mercy, slicing deep into the earth and exposing the roots beneath. I couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration mixed with fear—such strength!

"Guys, move!" Dehya shouted from the center of our chaotic formation. Her voice was urgent, commanding. As she began chanting ancient words, the air around us shimmered, and I felt a pulse of energy coursing through my veins—amplifying my power, intoxicating me with an almost overwhelming sense of invincibility. I could feel the weight of my sword lighten as it became an extension of my will.

The power surged, and with it, I knew we could take on anything that came our way. For a fleeting moment, the thought of my true self—an entity from another world, with secrets and burdens yet to be unearthed—faded. Here, I was a warrior, surrounded by allies who offered strength and purpose.

More satyrs began to emerge, their numbers swelling, but I felt ready. With my heart racing and Orion's tail flicking energetically above my head, I surged forward with the collective will of our team. Together, forging itself as this battle went on and gaining trust, we would turn the tide. An echo of my past life—far from forgotten—whispered in my ear, urging me on.

"Let's finish this!" I yelled, charging into the fray.

The forest felt like a prison of shadows, whispers of the past swirling between the drooping branches. Each step through the dense foliage left me with an uneasy sensation, as if unseen eyes were watching. My hair, swayed slightly in the chilling breeze.

Orion, my black and gold spirit cat, purred softly from his perch on my head, his small weight oddly comforting amidst the chaos. "Stay on your toes, Zain," he murmured, his voice low and feline. "This isn't a friendly gathering."

The others were readying themselves for battle. Dehya, the ethereal elf with her violet eyes, was already conjuring vines from the very earth—her magic intertwining with nature as she prepared for the coming storm. Then there was Viscoff, a mountain of a man clad in Viking armor that gleamed even in the dark, gripping his massive axe like a titan ready to smite the heavens.

The encroaching tide of satyrs broke against our defenses, their grotesque features illuminated by the shimmering light that flickered like a heartbeat in this suffocatingly dark forest. But we weren't just fighting chaos; we were wading through a nightmare. One of the satyrs—a colossal creature, towering over the others—emerged, muscles bulging under its twisted green skin, a dark purple aura swirling ominously around it.

Ben growled, his voice like gravel. "That's the one! The one that almost killed me!"

Looking at the large satyr, I couldn't help but blurt out "That's one ugly abomination of a creature, looks like the offspring of some deranged demon that was f**king a goat!"

The giant satyr raised its claws toward the sky, letting out a guttural roar that rumbled through the trees. The ground trembled beneath my feet.

Steeling myself, I watched Viscoff take the vanguard, his stance unwavering despite the looming threat. Swinging his axe with precision, he parried the large satyr's first attack, a swipe that could cleave a tree in half. But the blow was close—far too close. The army of smaller satyrs retreating as if they feared the large one.

"Get ready!" I shouted, diving into the fray, adrenaline racing through my veins. As I encountered the satyr, deftly sidestepping and parrying its flailing claws with my own dual blades, I employed the drunken sword style—a technique I had practiced just the night before, where I danced with danger rather than embraced it.

Dehya's chant hung in the air, and out surged vines like serpents from the forest floor, wrapping around the satyr's brute arms. But my heart sank as it flexed its muscles, ripping free with a spine-chilling roar.

Viscoff wasn't deterred; he lunged forward, but suddenly the beast sank its formidable fangs into the metal armor on his arm. The sound of metal screeching against teeth resonated in my ears, and I could see blood seeping through. "That damn thing actually made it through armor forged by the hands guided by the great Odin!" Viscoff yelled, his voice a mix of surprise and pain.

My heart raced as I rushed to his side. Turmoil bubbled within me, but I focused—Dehya's healing spell enveloped Viscoff in a soft green glow, halting the crimson cascade of blood from his injury. The warrior grimaced but gripped his axe tighter, determination etched across his weathered face.

"This isn't over yet!" he shouted, revving himself for another strike.

With anger fueling me, I pushed forward, striking the satyr harder and faster, forcing it back through the forest. My blades tore through the air, each slash punctuating the off beat rhythm of the drunken style. Each blow pushed us closer to our quarry—a clearing across the filthy expanse of the forest where a malevolent power pulsed.

And then,,, we reached it. The satyr's base, an abominable altar decorated with the remnants of its previous victims. My heart dropped at the horror that lay before us: a female, suspended upon a crude stake, her white gown stained crimson at the abdomen. In that moment, I realized she was pregnant—the ghastly implication hit me like a thunderbolt.

"No!" I gasped, horrified, my vision narrowing in on the woman who hung limply, life ebbing away like the dying light in the forest.

Orion leapt off my head, transforming into the golden earring that dangled from my neck. "We need to act fast, Zain! This isn't just about us anymore!"

Viscoff's expression hardened as he surveyed the grisly scene, eyes narrowing in resolve. "We need to save her. We end this perversion!"

Dehya nodded solemnly, hands raised once more as she began to summon a powerful spell, one that could sever the ties of darkness that bound the sacrificial woman.

Fueled by fierce determination, I stepped forward, ready to confront the satyr that threatened not just our lives, Orion letting me know that the very essence of hope in this forest was in jeopardy. As darkness pressed upon us, I vowed to push back with everything I had. In this Place of shadows, we would blaze a trail of light—or die trying.

The air was thick with despair, lurking like the shadows within the dark, the ominous forest of willows.

That's when Ben saw her. Emmeline. Bound to a stake, her white gown stained crimson, the vibrant color stark against the pale fabric. His heart dropped as he fell to his knees, disbelief washing over me.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The sound erupted from his throat, raw and primal, echoing through the trees. "You were pregnant? Why didn't you tell me?" The words tumbled from his lips, frantic and broken. His mind reeled, images of laughter and dreams layered with the vision of her innocent face twisted in pain. "What was its name going to be? You were always good at naming things. I bet it was beautiful Emmeline." Tears blurred his vision, cascading like silver beads down his cheeks.

His anguish ignited a fire within. He felt the shift take place as rage flowed through Bens veins, igniting his very essence. Red wings erupted from his back, stretching wide as an ancient bird, clawing for release from their prison. Bens hair ignited into a fiery red, glowing like embers in the dark as his eyes transformed into molten orbs. We could feel the power surging as he grasped his phoenix bow, now radiating an intensity that resonated with the very core of Bens being.

With a fierce determination that could shatter stars, he nocked a pitch-black arrow. The tip glowed like a condensed sun, a promise of destruction aimed at the forces that had wrought this horror upon the woman he loved. The arrow released with a thunderous roar, a force so profound it shook not just the ground beneath my feet but the very fabric of reality.

——

I had never met a being quite like the satyr we were up against that day. The remnants of its evil purple aura lingered in the dark forest, even after it had crashed to the ground. Every twist of its body, every brutish swing of its limb, felt like it had come from another world—a world I had once called home.

I loved this current reality, or at least the pieces of it that were beginning to feel like home. But as I breathed heavily, my hair whipping around me like a wild banner, I could feel the pull of where I truly belonged.

"Zain!" Dehya's voice rang through the oppressive air, her purple eyes focused intently on me. "Dodge left!"

In an instinctual blur, I pivoted, barely avoiding the satyr's claws as it swung in my direction. The drunken sword style I had adopted had saved me more times than I cared to count during this fight. It felt almost like my body was moving without my conscious thought—a trick learned from years of deception and survival. I was still an outsider, though, a man playing a part that didn't quite fit.

To my side stood Viscoff, the towering figure clad in Viking armor, his axe raised as he prepared for a counter. Beside him, Ben laying on the ground, deep in rage, paralyzed by his own fury. Only when the tide turned could I feel the warmth of anger turn into raw energy, but at that moment, it hung in the air like a fine mist, ready to erupt.

My mind was racing. I was just a criminal from another world, claiming amnesia while weaving between lies and truths. The dark forest of willow trees felt suffocating, inescapable. My gaze flicked back to Dehya as she conjured a small shield between me and a deadly blow aimed for my heart. She glimmered as magic danced around her; for a moment, I felt grateful to have her beside me.

Then, it happened—the satyr landed a hit.

I was launched back into Viscoff's armored bulk, the impact jarring me as I coughed up a spurt of blood. Iron-tasting and bitter, I spat onto the forest floor, forcing myself upright. I couldn't show weakness, not now.

Just then, I caught a glimmer of motion from Ben. It was a wild transformation—the kind that both astonished and terrified me. Flames erupted behind him, flaming red wings unfurling like banners of war. His hair ignited crimson, eyes blazing, the deep crimson bow in his hands radiating a power that pulsated through the air like a living entity.

"What the hell?!" Viscoff roared, his voice echoing off the willow trees, and the atmosphere shifted so profoundly it felt like the ground buckled beneath our feet.

Ben released the black arrow, and time itself warped as it tore through the air—a streak of light that transcended the limits of reality. The arrow found its mark with apocalyptic accuracy; it pierced the satyr's chest, ripping through flesh and muscle with a violent force. The creature crashed to the ground, lifeless.

I moved forward cautiously, ready to defend if it should rise again, when a dark, sinister voice rattled the air. "Boy, I have now been awakened. With the sacrifice of a woman barring a child. I have returned to this world. And I will conquer it."

The life ebbed from the satyr, replaced by an ominous purple orb that spiraled away from its fading form. As it ascended, it turned toward us, and a chilling laugh filled the forest. "That purple-haired mage… she carries my true blood. I'll be back for her."

The orb zipped into the sky like a comet, leaving behind a hushed silence. The echo of its laugh wrapped around us, slithering into my mind like a reminder that whatever magics were at play in this world tied back to me and her—none of us were safe.

"Zain?" Orion, my black and gold spirit cat, perched on my head, looked down at me with his knowing golden eyes. I could sense his anxiety, tinged with the weight of our shared pasts.

"He'll return," I muttered, feeling the adrenaline and fear subside into a low hum of urgency and dread. "But what he claims about Dehya...it can't be true, can it?"

Dehya stepped forward, her expression a collision of resolve and fear. She caught my gaze and for a moment it felt like time stood still. In that moment, I realized I wasn't just faking amnesia anymore. They mattered to me; I had found a family among the ruins of this magical forest.

"Together." Her voice was soft, but it rang loud in the encroaching dark. "Whatever this creature is, we will stop it. I will not let it take me, nor any of you. I don't care if I do care it's filthy blood."

*this sh*t is straight out of a nightmare.*

I grimaced, But showing Dehya a smile. Ben was now back to normal, his black hair no longer red. His eyes back to their brown color. No more wings on his back. He was unconscious, he was falling from the sky. Viscoff runs over to catch him "careful big guy, I got you."

*and what the f**k is Ben? Some sort of super bird super hero?*