Into The Woods

It was a crisp noon in Portville, a small, isolated town nestled in the foothills of the mountains. The sun hung high in the sky, casting sharp, uneven shadows over the dirt road that wound its way into the dense forest. The air smelled faintly of pine and damp earth, though an unnatural stillness hung over the landscape, as if even the birds were holding their breath.

Emma led the way, her strides purposeful and determined, while Nathan and Eris trailed behind her. Their destination was the old, abandoned factory at the edge of the forest, rumored to harbor something far from ordinary.

"Hey, Nate?" Eris broke the silence, her voice hesitant.

"Huh?" Nathan responded without turning his head.

"What's your reason for joining us?" she pressed, her tone carrying a mix of genuine curiosity and doubt.

"I thought Emma already told you," Nathan replied, his voice flat.

"She did. But, come on, it can't be that simple, can it?" Eris asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Trust me, it is," Nathan said with a shrug, brushing off her suspicion.

They arrived at the factory moments later. It loomed before them, a decaying giant amidst the wilderness. The walls were mottled with rust and grime, and the roof sagged precariously in places. Vines and moss clung to the structure like nature's attempt to claim it back.

"Well, this is it," Emma said, her tone as calm as ever, though her eyes flickered with caution.

"Creepy," Eris muttered, shivering slightly.

"I don't sense any Arcana in there," Nathan remarked, narrowing his eyes at the building.

"Some Traces are skilled at concealing their Arcana," Emma countered. "It's how they survive Exorcists. It might still be in there, hiding. Let's check to be sure."

The trio stepped into the factory. It was dim, with only faint beams of sunlight filtering through gaps in the rusted walls and roof. The air inside was thick and stale, carrying the unmistakable metallic tang of old blood. The space was vast, with broken machinery and scattered debris littering the floor.

"Looks like there's no one here," Nathan said after a brief glance around.

"Keep looking," Emma ordered. "If it's a Trace, it might be hiding somewhere."

They ventured deeper into the factory, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. At the far corner of the building, they froze.

Before them lay a pile of bodies, mangled and bloodied, attracting swarms of flies. The stench was unbearable.

Eris stumbled back, clutching her stomach before retching violently.

"You okay?" Nathan asked, stepping toward her with uncharacteristic concern.

"Yeah… just give me a moment," Eris mumbled, wiping her mouth.

"No ordinary human could do this," Emma said, her voice tense. "It's definitely a Trace."

"Yeah, no kidding. But we've searched the whole place, and it's not here," Eris replied, her voice shaky but firm.

"Maybe it only comes here at night," Nathan suggested. "The reports did say the police officers disappeared after dark, didn't they?"

"Good point," Emma agreed. "We should come back later, closer to nightfall."

As they turned to leave the factory, Eris froze mid-step, her body going rigid.

"Wait," she said. "Do you feel that?"

Nathan stopped as well, his sharp eyes scanning the forest, his voice calm yet certain.

"It's coming from the left," he stated, pointing toward a dense cluster of trees swaying ominously in the wind.

Eris shook her head. "No way. I'm pretty sure it's coming from the right," she argued, motioning toward a narrow dirt pathway that stretched into the shadowy distance.

Emma stood between them, her eyes darting from one direction to the other. Her inner monologue churned with uncertainty.

(Nathan's direction is blocked by all those trees—visibility is awful. Eris's direction has a clear path, but that might make it too obvious. Then there's the way we came… but would it double back?)

She tightened her grip on her weapon, weighing the options.

"Alright," Emma finally said, her tone decisive. "We'll split up. If anyone encounters the Trace, use a signal."

"Got it!" Eris replied without hesitation, sprinting down the path to the right.

"Fine," Nathan muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he sauntered toward the dense forest to the left.

Emma exhaled, her heartbeat quickening. Without a word, she ran straight ahead toward the first entry point they'd marked earlier, hoping her gamble would pay off.

The forest grew eerily quiet around her.

(It's out there somewhere…) she thought grimly, scanning the shadows.

---

Eris ran through the dense underbrush of her side of the forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

("I really hope I don't run into a Trace…")

Her anxious thoughts swirled as she weaved between the trees, her eyes darting nervously in every direction.

But no matter how fast she moved, no matter how much she tried to shake the feeling—

There was something out there. Lurking just beyond the next tree. Waiting to strike.

---

Nathan wandered aimlessly through the woods, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he kicked at a stray rock. A deep sigh escaped his lips.

"So boring," he muttered to himself, staring up at the cloudless sky. "I wish I at least had a popsicle... God, I miss those."

He could almost taste the sweet, icy flavor on his tongue.

With another sigh, he shook his head.

"Well, I guess changing my fate had an effect on a lot of things, huh?"

His thoughts drifted back to the day he'd made the choice—when everything had shifted.

His life was different now, and not all of it for the better.

The small comforts he once took for granted—like popsicles on a lazy afternoon—seemed so far out of reach now.

---

Moments later

Emma, still searching, suddenly came to an abrupt stop. She stood still, her mind racing. Then, as if by design, Nathan emerged from the woods, walking toward her.

"Oh, hey," Nathan greeted with a casual nod.

"It seems your path brought you here after all," Emma said, her voice calm but tinged with an undercurrent of thoughtfulness.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a path," Nathan responded. "More like I was lost, considering how many trees were in the way."

"So, you didn't encounter a Trace?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing with concern, her eyes scanning the area around them.

"Nope. Like I said, just trees," Nathan replied, shrugging.

Emma fell silent for a moment, her gaze distant as she processed the situation. Her expression hardened, her usual calm now tinged with a quiet intensity.

"You alright?" Nathan asked, noticing her sudden shift in demeanor.

"Earlier, before we split up, Eris took a different path. It's not the usual route anyone takes to enter or exit," Emma explained, her voice measured, though there was a clear edge of urgency beneath her words. Her eyes flicked to where Eris had gone, a growing sense of unease settling in.

"Yeah, you can tell it's not the main path," Nathan acknowledged.

Emma's gaze grew more serious, her mind working quickly. "Since everyone else typically follows this route… that means..."

---

Eris moved cautiously through the dense, suffocating forest, her every step calculated and silent. The air was thick, stifling, pressing down on her like the weight of a thousand unseen eyes. The trees seemed to close in, their twisted, gnarled branches stretching toward her like claws. The weak shafts of pale light from above barely broke through, creating broken patterns on the ground that flickered and shifted with an eerie life of their own.

Her senses were razor-sharp, every fiber of her being on edge. She scanned the area for movement, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

(Emma and Nate… I hope they're alright.)

The thought gnawed at her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. She couldn't afford to let anything distract her.

Then, she saw it.

A figure emerged from the darkness ahead—twisted, unnatural. Its limbs jerked and spasmed, bones jutting from the grotesque, grey flesh beneath. Hollow, glowing eyes locked onto hers as it shuffled closer.

A Trace. One of the corrupted.

Eris froze. Her heartbeat thudded in her chest.

(This must be it.)

Her mind raced—attack now? No… Emma said to give a signal first. But how?

Frustration surged as she clenched her fists, her pulse quickening.

Then, the creature's voice broke the silence, guttural and distorted.

"RAY!"

The sound was like rusted metal grinding against stone, a noise that scraped at her very soul.

(It can talk? That's… strange.)

Her stomach tightened with dread, but the creature didn't wait for her to process. It moved again, its limbs jerking unnaturally as it closed the distance between them. Every step it took caused the air to warp around it, a sickening ripple of darkness distorting everything in its wake.

Eris dropped into a defensive stance, her muscles coiled and ready.

(It's getting closer.)

She tensed, but then—

The ground beneath her feet began to tremble.

First, a low vibration. Then a violent shaking that rattled her teeth. The sound that followed was like a deep growl, an ominous rumble that seemed to rise from the very earth itself.

(What is that?)

Before she could react, dark vines erupted from the ground with a sickening crack, their thorned tendrils snapping toward her like whips of living darkness. The air filled with the stench of decay as they surged forward, dripping black ichor.

"—!!"

Eris barely rolled to the side in time, but the next set of vines came at her from another angle, slashing through the air with brutal force. She could hear the sickening sound of them tearing through the earth as they whipped around her.

With a scream of frustration, Eris twisted, dodging to the side once more, but the vines were relentless. They were faster than she'd anticipated, anticipating her every move. The next vine whipped past her face, grazing her cheek and leaving a trail of searing pain behind.

SLASH!

A thick vine pierced her side, its thorns digging into her flesh, and blood began to seep from the wound, hot and slick. The world around her blurred as a wave of nausea rolled through her.

She staggered, trying to shake the pain away, but the vines were closing in. They moved with terrifying precision, wrapping around her limbs, tightening with an iron grip. The pressure in her chest increased as the darkness around her deepened.

(This isn't working…!)

Her frustration burned like fire as she struggled against the tendrils. She couldn't let them drag her under. She couldn't let herself be swallowed by the darkness.

With a sharp exhale, she raised her arm, fingers pointed at the tangled mass of vines.

"Sunpierce!"

The beam of light that erupted from her fingertips was blinding, a spear of pure, radiant energy that tore through the air like a divine retribution. It cut through the vines in an instant, slicing through them as though they were nothing more than dry twigs.

The air crackled with the intensity of the blast, and for a brief moment, the forest fell silent.

But then—

A sickening twitch.

The vines twisted and grew, thicker, more aggressive, their blackened, charred bodies writhing as they healed and reformed.

Eris watched in horror as the vines grew stronger, the darkness around them thickening like oil spreading through water.

"…Damn."

Her jaw tightened, the cold bite of panic gnawing at her thoughts.

(I should've known it wouldn't be that easy.)

The Trace stood still, watching her with its cold, unblinking eyes. Its presence shifted, its aura expanding, and the temperature in the air seemed to drop, a suffocating cold that cut through her like ice.

---

The dimly lit interior of the unnamed bar reeked of stale smoke and the sharp tang of liquor, the air thick with the scent of both, mingling together like a suffocating fog. The low murmur of scattered patrons filled the space, punctuated by the occasional clink of glass and the shuffle of footsteps. At the counter, the bartender, an older man with a weary expression, wiped the counter absently, his eyes flicking cautiously toward a trio seated at the bar.

The three men sat close together, their drinks in hand, their posture relaxed but their attention fixed. The two on the outer edges leaned in slightly, engaged in a hushed conversation, their words barely rising above the quiet hum of the bar. In the center, the third man sat in absolute silence, sipping his whiskey slowly. Despite his stillness, there was an air about him that seemed to command attention, a weight to his presence that made the space around him feel charged.

One of the men on the left leaned in, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

"Sir, it looks like one of the Traces we placed was discovered by an Exorcist," he reported, his tone edged with tension. "A female, too."

The second man, sitting to the right, scoffed, swirling his drink with a casual air.

"Hey, that's nothing to worry about. Even if the Trace gets taken out, we can just eliminate the Exorcist. Besides, she doesn't seem all that strong, right, boss?"

The man in the center remained silent for a moment. His sharp gaze reflected the amber glow of his drink, his expression unreadable—cold, detached. He wore a dark coat draped loosely over his shoulders, giving him a relaxed yet intimidating presence. The stillness around him felt almost oppressive.

With deliberate slowness, he set his glass down on the counter. The soft clink of glass against wood seemed unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet bar. He exhaled deeply, his breath carrying a quiet disappointment, before speaking.

"You two really are idiots," he said, his voice even and calm, yet carrying a weight that made the air feel heavier. "I'll say this again so it sticks in your thick skulls. First of all, the only reason I placed that Trace there was to observe the Exorcists in action."

The first man swallowed hard, his fingers twitching nervously. The second, however, was still oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. He raised his drink with a half-hearted laugh.

"But boss, I thought you—"

Before he could finish, the boss moved.

The sound was sickening—a brutal, wet crack of bone meeting wood. The second man's head slammed into the counter with such force that the surface splintered under the impact. Blood began to spread across the wood, dark and uneven, staining the bar in grim streaks. His body twitched once before going limp, sliding off the stool and crashing to the floor with a dull thud.

The bartender flinched but wisely chose to remain silent, pretending to polish glasses with unshaken hands. A few patrons glanced up briefly at the noise, but recognizing the kind of trouble that had just unfolded, they quickly looked away, pretending not to notice.

The remaining man sat frozen, his face draining of color as he stared at his dead companion. His breathing became shallow, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind raced to comprehend what had just happened.

The boss sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. He reached into his coat, pulling out a cigarette with practiced ease. He lit it with a flick of his lighter, the small flame casting a brief shadow across his face as he took a slow, deliberate drag. Smoke curled lazily from his lips as he turned his cold, calculating gaze back to the first man.

"I warned you about interrupting me while I speak," he muttered, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable threat. "Now, the second thing I asked for—was the drone camera placed on the new guy?"

The terrified man swallowed, his throat dry and constricted.

"I—I'll do it right away, sir!"

The boss raised a hand, cutting him off. "Don't bother." He stood up from his stool, rolling his shoulders with a slight stretch. His coat shifted as he moved, the fabric rustling faintly as if the air itself was wary of him. "First, clean up this mess. Then we'll check the camera feed in ten minutes. Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir!" The man stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

"Good." The boss turned away, taking a few slow steps toward the hallway that led to the restroom. His steps were calm, unhurried, as if the scene he had just caused meant nothing. "I'll be back… I need to take a shit."

The casualness of his words seemed to magnify the tension in the room, turning it into something suffocating. As though murder had been nothing more than an afterthought to him.

As he disappeared into the hallway, the lone survivor exhaled shakily, his body trembling with both fear and disbelief. Slowly, he began to drag the corpse away, each movement slow and deliberate, knowing that if he made a single mistake, if he left even the smallest trace of blood behind, he would be the next one to die on this filthy floor.

To Be Continued...