Lost Among Shadows

Every step I took into the woods weighed heavier on my legs, it seemed, as what I had learned of the family's curse gnawed at me, tugging me into a spiral of doubt and fear. I promised myself I would break the curse, but with each thought, more and more doubt filled my mind. How could a mere boy like me, so broken and lost, manage to break such an ancient and powerful curse?

The forest around me was stifling, and the silence within it was oppressive. Trees seemed to lean in, twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, casting long shadows that somehow seemed to have a life all their own. The air was thick, weighted with the sorrow I couldn't let go of. It felt as though the land itself was grieving, weighed down by the anguish of my ancestors-and now mine.

My feet moved along a narrow, uneven path, the ground slick with wet leaves and fallen branches. Above, the sky was perpetually gray, a dull featureless canvas, as if the heavens themselves had given up on the world. No sun, no stars-just one unbroken expanse of sorrow.

I'm not sure how much longer I walked when I saw it-an unsettling symbol etched into the earth. A circle of bones, ringed by skulls, their empty eye sockets staring at me as if the reminder of souls that have long since left this place. The signs could not be mistaken for anything other than the markings of those very mercenaries who burnt my home to ashes-the ones who stalked the land as beasts of prey and marked their territory with the remains of their victims.

A cold shiver had crawled down my spine, and I hesitated. The air had grown thick-as if the atmosphere itself was awaiting an event.

"Be on your guard, Kael," I whispered. My voice was hoarse, my words scarce more than a whisper in the dead silence surrounding me.

Then a figure emerged from the darkness ahead-a boy no bigger than myself. The boy was thin, and his clothes were tattered and torn; wide-eyed with fear stared at me from his pale skin. He materialized out of thin air, suddenly there, without warning.

"Are you lost too?" I asked, making a tentative step towards him.

He nodded vigorously, his voice trembling. "Yessir. I have seen the mercenaries, for they are all over. Everything they've stolen and taken."

It was at that mention of mercenaries that my heart got twisted. My search was really to find some ruins of the village, perhaps with this young boy leading. "Can you show me the direction to the village?" I then asked, just hopeful I'd get information. "What happened there. Please."

Something flickered in the boy's eyes, either fear or perhaps hope. He nodded once more. "I know where they took it. Follow me. But… be careful. It's not safe."

I didn't. I followed the boy through thick underbrush as my mind raced with all I'd learned. It was as if the path itself began to twist and wind in such a way as to misplace me, as though the very woods would confound me. Strange symbols in the ground now were more frequent, more elaborate, and with them, the unease rose in my chest with every step.

The deeper we went, the darker it got. The trees grew closer, gnarled branches twisting together to block out the already faint light. The air was heavy, oppressive-like something was watching us, something that thrived in the shadows.

And then we emerged into a small clearing. It was no different from any of the other places I'd seen, still riddled with the same creepy, old symbols everywhere. This time, though, there were bodies hanging from ropes—three of them—eyes wide, staring at nothing, and mouths open in a silent scream. It was a sight that should have been twisting my stomach, but the bodies weren't what caught my eye. It was the trap.

In the instant, the boy froze; his face had turned from fear to something darker. "I'm sorry," he whispered with barely any volume. "I didn't mean to lead you here."

Suddenly, the earth gave way beneath me, and I felt like it had opened its mouth. I was falling-trapped in some kind of net, hanging well above the ground and desperately struggling for freedom.

"Help!" I shouted, but the boy stood still, his eyes cold and empty, watching from the shadows.

Then, movement. A party of mercenaries appeared, none smiling, all menacing. Each of them wore torn, bloodstained clothes, but each one wore a trophy from another village: teeth of the dead strung around the neck, a bracelet of woven hair of their victims. One of them stepped forward, grinning as he looked up at me trapped in the net.

"Well, well," the mercenary sneered. "What do we have here? A little rat caught in our trap. You shouldn't have come, boy."

I could feel my heart racing in my chest as I struggled, trying to get free, but the net was tight. The mercenaries tittered, laughing cruelly as they closed in on me.

"Shall we kill him now?" one of the scoundrels sneered.

The boy-I thought he was my friend-just stared, his expression unreadable. His lips barely moved when he spoke, distant. "Do it."

The mercenary that had spoken showed a confused glance toward the boy. "You want us to kill him?

The boy's cold gaze flicked over to me, and for a split second, I saw something in his eyes-something that ran my blood cold. "Yes," the boy said in a voice flat as stone. "He doesn't belong here."

The mercenaries chuckled and raised their guns.

"No!" I screamed, squirming harder to break free. "Please, don't!"

But it was too late. In an instant, the boy sprang forward, a dagger materializing in his hand, and before I could grasp what was happening, he lunged forward. His target had been the leader of the mercenaries, but instead, he turned the blade on himself, his throat slashed in that swift, final motion.

I watched in horror as the boy fell to the ground, blood pooling around him. His last breath came in a gurgled gasp, and his body went still.

The mercenaries stood still for a moment, confused by the sudden suicide of the boy. Then, their laughter returned, cruel and mocking.

"Well, that's one less to worry about," the leader said, turning back to me. "Now, where were we?"

The words echoed in my mind as the world around me seemed to slow down, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. I had seen death at close range for the first time. Not just the body, but the agony, the soul leaving the body. It was more than just the boy's life slipping away; it was the reality of a world without mercy, a world where life meant nothing.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps, and I was fighting not to cry. The boy's blood stained the ground, and for a long moment, I could do nothing but stare at it, my mind numb with shock.

Then, with a roar, I broke free of the net. My hands shaking, my vision blurred by tears, I didn't care. I had to get away. I had to escape.

They didn't chase me, they were too busy making fun of a boy's death, enjoying their own cruelty. I ran, didn't turn back to look at it all, on a path ahead with shadows and grief.

For the first time in my life, I finally know what being lost means.