Family Tradition

The carriage came to a gentle stop, its wheels clicking softly against the damp earth of the road. The night stretched out before me like a dark, silent canvas, where the shadows of trees intertwined and the leaves whispered with the wind. I could barely make out the shapes moving around me, but there was something unsettling in the air—a presence that made me feel more like an intruder than a member of the family.

Luminus stood before me, his tall and imposing figure outlined against the backdrop of darkness. He opened the carriage door with an almost ritualistic ease, and his voice pierced through the stillness of the night: "Come, Alexander."

I hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling in my chest. He seemed so calm, so... indifferent to what was coming. Yet I couldn't ignore the growing fear within me.

"Where are we?" I asked, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, though the unease in my voice was unmistakable. Glancing outside, I was met with the sight of a dense forest dominating the landscape. Its towering, shadowy trees formed a thick canopy that seemed to swallow the entire carriage.

"We are where you will face the Hunters' Judgment," Luminus replied, his voice low but firm, as if he were speaking of something entirely routine.

'The Hunters' Judgment'. Those words echoed in my mind, and immediately, all of Alexander's memories came rushing to the surface. 

The Hunters' Judgment was an ancient tradition of the Dracknum family, something every direct descendant—and even those of the second lineage—were required to endure. It was a rite of passage, a test that probed the very essence of those who bore the family name. Yet the details of what transpired during the judgment were shrouded in secrecy.

No one was allowed to speak of what happened out there, and any attempt to share the experience was met with severe consequences. The only person who truly knew the fate of each participant was the patriarch of the family.

'Of course it had to be now,' I thought, cold sweat dripping down my forehead as tension tightened its grip on every fiber of my being. 

I didn't know exactly what to expect, but the stories Alexander had heard from other family members were anything but reassuring. It wasn't uncommon for descendants to fail the judgment. Some never returned, and no one ever learned what became of them.

'If they ever found my body, that would be a blessing.' That thought, above all others, made me swallow hard.

Luminus watched me as my mind spiraled. He knew exactly what I was feeling but said nothing. His expression remained impassive, as indifferent as ever, yet for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was studying me, assessing me in ways I couldn't understand.

Before I could recover from the initial shock, he motioned for me to follow him.

'There is no turning back.' I thought while clenching my hands.

As we moved forward, my eyes were drawn to the forest around us. The towering trees, their dark trunks looming like silent sentinels, seemed to watch our every step. Their roots snaked across the ground as if ready to rise up and ensnare us at any moment. The sound of my footsteps was muffled by the dense vegetation, and a suffocating sense of claustrophobia began to settle over me. The shadows around us felt alive, shifting and writhing as though waiting for us to falter—for me to falter.

The air felt heavy, almost alive, thrumming with an oppressive energy that pressed down on me. It wasn't just the darkness of the night that surrounded the small clearing ahead; it was something more, something primal, that sent chills racing across my skin and made every instinct in me scream to turn and run.

When we reached the clearing, my turbulent thoughts were interrupted by the deep voice of the family patriarch.

"Alexander Wolfgang The Dracknum," he called, his voice reverberating through the trees, filling the space with a power that felt larger than him, as though the forest itself were listening. "Are you ready for the Hunters' Judgment?"

My feet planted themselves firmly on the ground, but my mind wavered. I was anything but ready. Every muscle in my body felt stretched taut, like a rope pulled to the brink of snapping.

'Of course not,' I thought, though my lips stayed sealed. My chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths as I fought to keep the growing panic at bay. The worst kind of fear wasn't fear of something tangible; it was fear of the unknown. And here I was, about to face something even Alexander's memories couldn't illuminate.

Luminus stood just a few steps away, his presence solid and almost reassuring. Yet the cold indifference in his expression made it clear that he had no intention of helping me. He gave me one last look before stepping back, leaving me with words that hung in the air like a grim verdict.

The rules are simple. Survive, or become part of what resides in this forest.

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling slightly. "How will I know when the trial is over?" I asked, clinging to the desperate hope of finding some clarity in this absurdly vague ordeal.

"Simple," Luminus replied, his voice distant now, though still heavy with authority. "When you reach the other side, you'll find the family crest marked on a tree. In front of it, there will be a golden lever. Pull it, and the trial will be over."

'The other side?' I thought, my stomach sinking. 'I have to cross a fucking demonic forest?!'

As if he could hear my thoughts, the patriarch spoke, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

"We stand at the edge of the Black Forest, the border between Dracknum lands and the Demonic Forest. Do not cross into the Demonic Forest, even if there is a barrier meant to stop you. There are... exceptions to every rule."

His words offered me a brief, fragile sense of relief. The Black Forest, while terrifying and oppressive, was still part of the Dracknum domain—something understandable, something that operated within the boundaries of the family's influence. 

The Demonic Forest, however, was something entirely different. To most, it was a living myth, a place of nightmares. Few who ventured into it ever returned, and those who did were forever changed. Resilient, perhaps, but scarred in ways that even time could not heal.

Still, the relief was fleeting. The gravity of the situation quickly clawed its way back into my mind.

"Where are the basic survival tools for the trial?" I asked, my voice cracking with a desperation I hadn't intended to show. "Shouldn't there at least be some kind of survival kit?"

"Simple," Luminus answered dryly, not even bothering to look at me. "The survival kit... is you."

Each word felt heavier than the last, as though etched in stone and hurled at me. The weight of it all hit me like a hammer. 'Survive.' That was it. But what did that truly mean? What was I about to face?