Black Death

Elliot took his first steps beyond Old Trafford, the weight of his satchel firm against his back, the open road welcoming him with a quiet breeze. He had no map and no rigid plan, only a name and a direction, which was toward the north to a place called Alhembra.

Seraphina had once walked these paths and written about these lands in her letters. Now, it was his turn. As he walked, the scenery shifted. Rolling meadows, gentle flowery hills, and a fresh stream of freedom-scented winds painted the landscape. Above him, a golden bird with broad wings soared, its silhouette slicing through the sky.

He paused, pulled out a small notebook from his satchel, and started noting down.

"Golden bird! Wide wingspan. Flying west?"

Further ahead, he spotted a small rat-like creature burrowing into the ground with sharp claws, its tiny nose twitching.

"OH! A Zul, they are Fast diggers and possibly nocturnal?"

A faint hum filled the air. Elliot glanced up to see a swarm of thin, transparent dragonfly-like insects, but much bigger in comparison, drifting in unison, their delicate wings shimmering in the light.

"Transparent flying insect, maybe around 4 inches long and 6 inches wide wings. Where to?"

Elliot, though only sixteen, had picked up a habit over the years: whenever he encountered a wild creature, he would take note of its features, its movements, its peculiarities. A personal bestiary of sorts. And right now, as he ventured into the unknown, the thrill of discovery burned even brighter within him. The adventure ahead was uncertain, but that only made it more exciting. A smile tugged at his lips. He had barely begun, yet the world was already revealing its wonders.

Walking further, Elliot climbed a gentle hill, its slopes bursting with wildflowers, red, yellow, and purple, swaying in harmony with the wind. The scent of earth and petals mixed in the air, light and refreshing.

As he reached the top, his breath caught in his throat.

Before him stretched a world far grander than he had ever imagined. Rolling valleys, dense forests stretching beyond the horizon, the faint outlines of ruins long forgotten, and shadowed caves whispering of mystery. It was vast, endless, so much more than the small town he had known all his life.

The realization struck deep.

He had always known the world was bigger than Old Trafford, but knowing and seeing were two different things. His knees hit the soft grass as he simply took it all in, eyes wide with wonder.

"You might have to take care of my house much longer than I thought, Mr. Bastoulli." Elliot chuckled as he ran down toward the forest of Heril.

By the time Elliot entered the forest, the last light of the sun was barely visible through the thick canopy above. Shadows stretched long across the uneven ground, and the sounds of the forest night began to stir, distant hoots of nocturnal birds, rustling leaves, and the occasional snap of twigs.

His steps slowed as caution took over. It was one thing to read about forests in books but another to be inside one, alone.

Spotting a small stream nearby, he decided it was as good a place as any to rest. He crouched down, splashing some cool water onto his face before taking a few careful sips.

Then, looking up at the towering trees, he made his decision.

Sleeping on the ground would make him vulnerable. The smarter choice? Up.

Gripping onto the rough bark of a sturdy tree, he hoisted himself up, branch by branch, until he found a thick enough one to settle on. He fastened himself carefully, using part of his cloak as a makeshift support, and let out a tired sigh.

Slowly, he reached into his satchel and pulled out his notebook. With careful hands, he flipped to a blank page and began to write.

"Day 1. First steps into the unknown. The world… is bigger than I ever imagined."

He paused, tapping the end of his pencil against the page. How could he even put into words what he was feeling? Excitement? Fear? A strange mix of both?

He let out a breath, shaking his head. There was no turning back now.

This was it. His first night outside of Old Trafford.

Above him, the night sky peeked through gaps in the leaves, stars twinkling like distant promises.

Dawn approached, casting a soft golden hue over the treetops. The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves.

Elliot stirred, his body stiff from sleeping on the branch. His eyes fluttered open as an unusual sound reached his ears, gentle splashing, rhythmic and playful. He rubbed his eyes and shifted slightly, peering through the foliage.

Near the stream below, a group of odd-looking birds waded through the shallow waters. They resembled ducks but had striking blue feathers and peculiar yellow flowers sprouting from their heads, resembling spiky hair. Their beaks dipped in and out of the water, scooping up small fish, their petals twitching as they moved.

Fascinated, Elliot reached for his notebook, flipping to a fresh page. He quickly sketched their unique appearance, jotting down notes beside it.

"Blue-feathered, duck-like birds… yellow spiky flowers on heads… semi-aquatic?"

He smiled. This was what he wanted, a real adventure, a real discovery.

After a few more moments of watching, he stretched his limbs and carefully climbed down the tree. His boots landed softly on the damp forest floor, leaves crunching beneath him.

Then—

A deep, guttural growl.

The hairs on the back of Elliot's neck stood on end. His body tensed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, anything but the Gurada!" Elliot thought. Everyone knew the Forest of Heril housed a terrifying beast, the Gurada. Even catching a glimpse of it by accident was said to be a death sentence. Stories whispered through town spoke of its shadowy figure lurking between the trees, its red eyes cutting through the dark like twin embers of doom.

Only a handful of adventurers had ever escaped its clutches. Those who did return were forever changed; haunted, shaken, unable to recount their tale without their voices breaking. That was how it earned its dreaded name, "The Black Death."

And now, standing mere feet away from one, Elliot understood why.

His stomach twisted as his eyes locked onto the creature behind him.

Sleek black fur, blending seamlessly into the morning shadows. Muscles were coiled beneath its frame like a predator ready to pounce. Its blood-red eyes gleamed with hunger, its maw parting slightly to reveal razor-sharp fangs.

The Gurada.

Elliot's breath trembled. It was watching him, and it was hungry. His heart pounded against his ribs, but he forced himself to stay still, and grandfather's words echoed in his mind: If you ever meet a beast, don't act scared. Lock eyes. Stand your ground. Take out your weapon.

Slowly, carefully, Elliot reached for the small knife strapped to his belt. His fingers trembled, but he gripped it tight, raising it just enough to show he wasn't defenseless. Then, he locked eyes with the Gurada.

Glowing red orbs burned into him. The beast let out a low, guttural growl, its massive frame tense, muscles coiled. Elliot took a step back, sweat trailing down his spine.

"I always thought my luck was bad… didn't know it was this bad."

But something was off. The Gurada… wasn't attacking.

It was watching him. Its claws dug into the damp earth, its tail flicking restlessly, but it wasn't pouncing. It was… wary. Cautious.

Carefully, he let his gaze sweep over the scene, his mind sharpening. The adult Gurada's breathing was heavy and uneven. And beneath its thick black fur, dark patches of blood soaked its side.

It's injured.

Elliot's grip tightened around his knife. The stories never mentioned a wounded Gurada. If this beast, the Black Death itself, was hurt, that meant only one thing.

Something was hunting it.

But who?

His pulse quickened at the thought. Just what kind of person—or thing—would have the courage to hunt a monster like this?

Elliot's breath was slow, controlled. His grip tightened around the small knife at his side, but he knew, deep down, that if this thing wanted to kill him, it would have done so already. The Gurada, the so-called Black Death, was watching him, its muscles tense, its glowing red eyes locked onto his every movement.

And yet… it wasn't attacking.

"Why isn't it moving?" Elliot thought, his mind racing. His eyes flickered to the side. Behind the beast, partially hidden in the tall grass, two small cubs cowered, their fur slick with dirt, their tiny bodies trembling. Injured.

"Wait… it's protecting them?"

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. The Gurada wasn't hunting, it was wounded and shielding its young.

Elliot swallowed, forcing his body to stay still despite every instinct screaming at him to run. If I run, I'm dead."

Elliot inhaled, steadying his nerves. Alright. Let's try this.

Moving carefully, he reached into his satchel and pulled out two small pieces of bread and some dried meat. Slowly, he crouched down, keeping his movements deliberate, and placed them on the ground in front of him.

"Hey, big guy," Elliot muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh… don't suppose you'd prefer food over my intestines, huh?"

The Gurada growled lowly, its ears twitching as if listening for something else beyond Elliot.

Elliot forced a chuckle. "Yeah, didn't think so."

The beast's red eyes flickered down to the food, then back up to him. It didn't move; it just watched.

"Come on… take the bait. Just take it." He prayed inside.

Elliot exhaled through his nose and took one careful step back. His heart pounded in his chest. Another step. Then another.

The Gurada let out a deep, rumbling growl, but it still didn't lunge. Instead, it kept standing protectively over its cubs.

"If it's this tense, then that means…"

Elliot's stomach sank. His hands trembled slightly as he kept stepping backward, inch by inch.

"It's afraid. But not of me. So what in the world is hunting the Black Death?"

As soon as he was far enough, he turned and disappeared into the trees.

Leaning against a trunk, he finally let out the breath he had been holding, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. He wasn't sure what was more terrifying, the fact that he had just walked away from a living nightmare…

Or the fact that something else was still out there, strong enough to chase it down.