5. The Chase, the Confusion

As the three soldiers chased after him, Ravenswood couldn't help but curse his bad luck and Eryndor's influence on his life. "Oh, for the love of all that is holy! Why did I have to fight that walking disaster?!" he shouted, his feet pounding the ground as he ran. "I'm a lord, for crying out loud! I have a title, a castle, and a reputation to uphold! And now, I'm being chased by a bunch of lunatics from the higher world who think I'm Eryndor! May the gods of fortune smile upon me and grant me a swift escape from this mess! May Eryndor's bad luck be upon him and not me!"

The soldiers, levitating above the ground, were gaining on him fast. "You're not going to get away from us, Eryndor!" one of them shouted.

Ravenswood threw up his hands in frustration. "I'm not Eryndor, you idiots! I'm Lord Ravenswood! Can't you see the difference? I'm wearing a different armor, for goodness' sake! I don't have a big 'E' on my forehead! Although, I suppose that would be a good idea, just to avoid any further confusion."

But the soldiers just kept coming, their faces set in determined expressions. Ravenswood knew he couldn't outrun them forever, so he just kept cursing and shouting as he ran. "Eryndor, you wretched, miserable, cursed excuse for a human being! May your bad luck be the death of you! May you trip and fall into a pit of spikes! May you... oh, wait, that's probably already happened, hasn't it?"

Meanwhile, Eryndor was watching the commotion from a safe distance, a look of mild curiosity on his face. He had heard the soldier's shout, but he didn't know who they were talking about. He had already forgotten about the incident with the great elder Arkeia, who had brought his death upon himself by continuing to observe Eryndor even after disasters fell upon him one by one.

"Ah, yes, I remember now," Eryndor said to himself, a look of vague recollection on his face. "There was that one guy who became a charcoal after a huge lightning bolt struck him. Yeah, that was a real mess."

But Eryndor didn't have time to dwell on the past. He knew that the soldiers would soon realize their mistake and come after him, the real Eryndor. So he decided to vanish before that happened. The only place he could hide for now was the forest, a vast and treacherous expanse of trees that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The forest was big, and it would become increasingly dangerous as people moved deeper into it. But Eryndor had no choice, so he took a deep breath and plunged into the trees, the leaves and branches closing in around him like a green curtain. He moved deeper and deeper, the silence of the forest swallowing him whole, until he was just another faceless figure in the sea of trees.

As he walked, the trees grew taller and the underbrush thicker, casting long, ominous shadows on the ground. Eryndor stumbled over roots and tripped over rocks, but he kept moving forward, driven by the need to escape the soldiers and their deadly intentions. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew he had to keep moving, no matter what dangers the forest might hold.