Silent Climb

In the oppressive stillness of the dark void, Vlad felt it, the unmistakable, suffocating sensation of being watched from all sides, as if unseen eyes pierced the blackness, studying him with inhuman patience. There was no sound, no motion, yet the weight of those invisible gazes pressed against his skin, making the silence deafening.

Then he noticed them: chains–countless chains–stretching out from every angle, glowing a deep, smoldering red as though pulled from a fire that never cooled. They hummed faintly with a restrained power, unnatural and ancient. They all led in one direction, vanishing into a part of the void darker than the rest, if such a thing was even possible. Whatever they bound, Vlad could not see it. He only felt its presence, vast, overwhelming and waiting.

He tried to move, to turn his head or even flinch, but his body remained paralyzed, as if suspended in the void by forces beyond comprehension. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but there was no direction, no light, no escape.

And then, a voice.

Soft and unmistakably human, a female voice pierced the dark:

"Are you okay?"

His eyes shot open. A jolt wracked his body as he gasped, panic flooding his senses. The void was gone, but the fear clung to him like sweat.

What– what the hell was that? He gasped. That place felt so real. Too real.

As Vlad's eyes adjusted to the dim orange light, shapes began to form. At first, they were just shadows, blurred outlines but then he saw a figure just a few feet away. 

A girl in her early twenties stepped back, startled by his jolt. She had shoulder-length brown hair, tousled and damp from sweat. Piercing black eyes watched him, tired but concerned. She wore a white shirt stained with dust and dirt, and brown pants worn from use, as if she'd been on the run for days.

Who...? Vlad winced as a sharp sting flared above his right eye. 

His hand flew to the spot. His fingers brushed a gash, bleeding. He pulled his hand away and stared at his palm, his breath catching in his throat.

I'm bleeding?

The girl stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. She asked softly:

"Is something wrong? Is the wound hurting?"

Vlad's breath slowed as panic began to lift. He blinked, forcing himself to focus, to ground his mind in the present. Slowly, he scanned his surroundings.

Towering trees loomed in ashy stone pillars, their trunks rising like ancient stone pillars swallowed by fog. Some still clung stubbornly to orange and red-tinged leaves, most stood bare, skeletal branches creaking in the wind. The leaf-covered ground glistened with beads of water, patches of raw brown dirt showing through like the earth had been clawed open.

It's a forest. A creepy one at that.

"Hey, are you okay?" A man's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Vlad blinked hard, shivering in the damp chill of the forest air. He gave a quick, shaky nod.

"Yeah... I'm okay," he muttered, wiping the blood from his palm onto his pants without thinking. He winced, but forced himself to stay upright, brushing off the lingering panic like ash. His breath came shallow, heart pounding quietly.

"I'm fine."

The man looked to be in his early twenties, chest heaving as if he'd been running hard. His messy green hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. He held a burning torch in his hand and looked wild, sharp-eyed, and tense.

Vlad blinked, taking in the man's appearance and words. He wore black pants and a white shirt, half-untucked and streaked with dirt, with a fitted black vest pulled tightly over it. There was something oddly formal about the look like he hadn't planned on getting dirty when the day began. He held a torch that looked hastily made from random scrap.

Vlad squinted his eyes. A torch. A real, open flame torch.

I'm glad I paid some attention in history class...and watched way too many movies from the early 51st century...

"Alright, let's keep moving then. Jasmine and Tori should be up ahead." The man turned around and started walking.

This is the trial? Vlad exhaled and looked at his surroundings then at the back of the men and women in front who had already started walking.

I should follow along for now. I need to know what exactly is happening… staying close seems like the safest option for now. Vlad followed. I need to figure out who these people are as well and if my life is in danger. Jasmine and Tori... he said their names like they were friends. They shouldn't be hostile…yet.

His boots crunched softly on damp earth. Each step echoed, oddly loud in the silence.

Vlad stayed close to the man and woman, still touching his temple now and then to keep up the act, though his eyes were alert, scanning the shadows between the trees.

Are they scouting ahead or something? He stepped over a fallen branch. If so, what are they scouting for?

Then a soft breeze made the cold night air hit him like a breath from another world. Thin. Cold. Each inhale stung in his throat. It wasn't snowing, but it felt like it should be. The forest floor was wet and soft, damp leaves and slick roots, the silence heavy, as if the earth were holding its breath.

Vlad's skin prickled. It was the kind of cold that didn't just touch his skin but settled into the bones, like something ancient and watchful was breathing just over his shoulder.

What the hell am I wearing?

He glanced down at himself. A white button-up shirt hung loosely on his frame, untucked and wrinkled, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Over it, a black vest clung to his chest, tight and out of place in the damp forest air just like the man ahead. His olive-colored pants were streaked with mud near the ankles, creased and worn but clearly not meant for trekking through wilderness.

These ancient clothes suck at insulation, Vlad thought bitterly, hugging himself.

Every step deeper into the woods felt like sinking into a dream that wanted him to freeze.

Fog curled around their legs, slow and lazy like it had nowhere better to be. It blanketed the woods in a muted grey veil, coiling through the trees and swallowing everything beyond a dozen steps.

Even with the torch held by the man at the front, the light barely held the dark at bay. It didn't cast shadows so much as press against the fog in uneven halos, more glow than illumination, making it difficult to tell where the trees ended and the void began.

The air was also sharp with the scent of moss and something else, iron. Blood?

Where is it coming from? Vlad twisted his head in every direction trying to locate the source. It's definitely not mine.

He was no more than a few steps behind the girl.

They don't seem bothered by the smell at all. He frowned.

There must be a story as to why we're here in the forest. Vlad stared at the man's back. The man had a small knife strapped between his belt. I should also find something to defend myself.

Thanks to being at the back Vlad noticed something: the man at the front would get startled or flinch at even the slightest sound, especially the ones not made by the three of them.

Vlad realized sound, perhaps, meant danger so he stayed silent and they walked in complete silence without a single word being exchanged. Suddenly every shadow seemed to hold a secret, every noise hinting at an unseen danger.

But each step seemed harder than the last.

The ground had begun to slope, just subtly at first, barely noticeable through the fog but Vlad felt the strain in his calves, the slow burn in his thighs. His breath came a little shorter, each inhale thinner than the one before. The soil grew uneven, scattered with moss-slick rocks and twisting roots that forced careful steps.

Are we going uphill? He glanced around, but the mist made it impossible to see any distant rise. The only clues were the dull ache in his legs and the angle of the tree trunks, which leaned ever so slightly backward as if resisting some slow, inevitable climb.

He didn't like the thought of going up a mountain. Cold, elevation, thinning air. It all made survival harder. Worse still, whatever they were trying not to wake might have the high ground.

As his boot caught on a knotted root, Vlad's eyes caught something half-buried in the leaves.

A branch.

Not too long. Not too short. Thick enough to do damage, but not so heavy it'd slow him down. Weathered at one end, stripped of bark by time and exposure, it looked almost too perfect. His heart gave a subtle, eager jolt.

There. Something to defend myself.

Vlad crouched, fingers curling around the wood, but the moment he lifted it, a dry crunch echoed beneath him as leaves and twigs shifted under his boot.

Instantly, the man and the girl snapped their heads toward him, eyes wide, bodies frozen. The torch's flame flickered wildly, casting brief, jagged shadows.

Vlad tensed, then stood slowly, branch in hand. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper, pitching it with uncertainty he didn't feel.

"…My head's still a bit disoriented," he said, feigning a wobble as he straightened. "I'm having a bit of trouble balancing, so I thought…"

The man cut him off with a sharp hiss, eyes narrowing.

"Okay. But don't make any more noise." His voice was hushed but firm. "We don't know how near that thing is."

That thing?

Vlad swallowed and nodded, tightening his grip on the branch.

What thing? Vlad looked at them and suddenly felt as if the shadows were watching him. Judging by the way both of them stiffened, it must be dangerous…

As they continued their slow, deliberate ascent, Vlad gripped the branch tightly, his fingers flexing every so often just to feel something solid in his hands. But his mind was anything but steady.

He was caught in a silent trap.

From the way they're treating me, I must be someone close to them. And the way they're wording their sentences I should already know what's going on, Vlad climbed over a small rock. It's going to be hard to figure out my objective.

They kept going up the hill. And just as Vlad adjusted his footing against a loose patch of soil, something flickered ahead, barely visible through the dense fog. A light.

Dim. Flickering. Orange.

He froze mid-step, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of it. It wasn't the torchlight from the man ahead. This came from farther up the hill, just beyond where the mist turned opaque. The shape of it shifted with the movement of the fog, glowing, retreating, reappearing.

Is that… fire? His fingers tightened around the branch in his hand.

A campfire? A lantern? Or something else entirely? His mind jumped to the worst-case scenarios first. A trap? Someone watching? Is it the 'thing' he mentioned before?

He glanced at the man ahead, but the green-haired figure kept moving steadily, eyes forward.

Did he not notice it yet? We're going straight towards it. Vlad gripped the stick tighter.

Should I say something? He looked up. Would speaking now draw attention?