Whispers In The Forest

Lucas sat at the edge of the outpost, the last rays of sunlight casting a golden hue over Elandor. The weight of the wooden sword still lingered in his hands, though it was now resting at his side. His arms ached from the training, but his mind was racing. Something about the way he had fought earlier—it had been instinctual, like muscle memory he couldn't recall forming.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his past. The embrace in the void, the figure who whispered to him—𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕓𝕪𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖—kept replaying in his mind. His head throbbed with the uncertainty, but the need to uncover the truth burned deep within.

The soft crunch of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Melasa appeared beside him, her sword clinking lightly against her armor as she sat down.

"You're quiet tonight," she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "Something on your mind?"

Lucas hesitated, unsure whether to confide in her. After all, how could he explain the void, the light, and the mysterious figure? But something about Melasa felt trustworthy—like she'd seen her share of strange things.

"Do you… ever feel like you're missing a piece of yourself?" Lucas asked, his voice quiet.

Melasa didn't answer immediately, her gaze shifting toward the horizon. After a moment, she nodded. "More often than you'd think. This world is full of mysteries—some we're meant to solve, others... maybe not." She paused before adding, "But I've learned one thing: those missing pieces? They have a way of finding us, whether we like it or not."

Lucas frowned, her words echoing strangely in his mind. He opened his mouth to ask more, but the air around them suddenly shifted. A cold breeze swept through the camp, chilling his skin, and the once-golden sky darkened unnaturally fast.

Melasa shot to her feet, her hand on her sword hilt. "Something's wrong."

Before Lucas could ask what she meant, a low, eerie hum filled the air. It was faint at first, like a distant chorus of whispers, but it grew louder, swirling around them like a storm.

"Get inside," Melasa ordered, her eyes scanning the darkening sky. "Now!"

But Lucas couldn't move. His heart pounded in his chest, and an odd sensation tugged at him—something familiar, something he couldn't ignore. The whispers… they weren't just sounds. They were words.

"Lucas…"

His name floated on the wind, clear as day. He staggered backward, clutching his head as the whispers grew louder, more insistent. He looked around, but no one else seemed to hear it.

"Lucas, come…"

The voice was calling him, pulling him toward the woods beyond the outpost. His feet moved on their own, his body drawn toward the source of the whispers. He barely registered Melasa shouting his name, her voice drowned out by the growing hum. Something was waiting for him out there, and despite the fear that crawled up his spine, he couldn't resist the pull.

The trees loomed before him, their shadows long and foreboding in the unnatural twilight. The whispers were louder now, so loud they filled his mind completely.

"Come to us…"

With a final step, Lucas crossed the threshold into the forest. The moment he did, the world seemed to shift. The temperature dropped sharply, and the trees twisted into strange, unnatural shapes, their branches reaching out like claws. The air felt heavy, suffocating, and the ground beneath him felt less like earth and more like…

𝕍𝕠𝕚𝕕.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. This feeling—it was the same as before, the same as the void that had swallowed him whole. Panic surged through him, but before he could turn back, the whispers stopped.

And then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.

Lucas's blood ran cold. It was the same figure from his dream—the one who had held him, who had whispered goodbye with such sadness. Only this time, the figure's form was clearer, more defined. They wore a long, flowing cloak, their face obscured by a hood that seemed to swallow all light. But the air around them crackled with an otherworldly energy.

"You've come," the figure said, their voice soft and familiar. "I knew you would."

Lucas stared, his heart hammering in his chest. "Who are you? Why do you keep calling me?"

The figure stepped closer, their presence both comforting and terrifying. "I'm someone who has always watched over you. Someone who knows your true nature."

"True nature?" Lucas repeated, his voice trembling. "What do you mean?"

The figure reached out, their hand hovering just inches from Lucas's chest. "You are not just a boy lost in this world, Lucas. You are something far more. A light in the darkness. A force that can change everything."

The words struck him like a hammer, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Memories flickered at the edge of his mind—brief, disjointed flashes of places he didn't recognize, faces he didn't know. But they were real. They were his.

The figure stepped back, their form beginning to fade into the shadows once more. "The time is coming, Lucas. You will soon understand. But for now, you must trust me."

Lucas felt a surge of desperation. "Wait! Don't go! Tell me what's happening—why can't I remember anything?"

The figure's voice softened, full of sorrow. "Because the truth is not something you are ready to face. Not yet. But you will be."

And with that, they vanished, the darkness swallowing them whole.

The forest around Lucas returned to normal—the trees still, the air calm. But the words lingered in his mind: You are not just a boy.

Stumbling back toward the outpost, Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental had just begun. Something far bigger than him, than the Red Blade, than anything he could have imagined.

As he emerged from the forest, Melasa was waiting, her face a mixture of anger and relief. "What the hell were you thinking, running off like that?" she demanded. "You could've gotten yourself killed."

Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. How could he explain what he had just seen? How could he tell her about the figure, the void, the whispers that haunted him?

Instead, he simply nodded, the weight of the mystery settling over him like a heavy cloak.

Because no matter what Melasa said, he knew one thing for certain: this was just the beginning.