The Outlands

The horse galloped through the night.

I didn't know how long we rode. A few hours? Maybe more. The roads thinned, the forests crept closer, and the sky bled from crimson to black. The wind bit sharper with every mile, and the trees along the roadside stood like silent watchers, their branches clawing at the moon.

By the time I pulled the reins, the horse was breathing hard, its flanks streaked with foam. The path behind me had long vanished. No more walls. No more fire-lit corridors or familiar towers behind. Just shadow, silence, and cold.

This was the edge.

I dismounted slowly, my legs unsteady from the ride. The wind smelled different here. It was raw, wild, thick with damp earth and something older I couldn't name. The trees were taller. The spaces between them were darker. Even the stars above seemed more distant, like they were watching through a veil.

I stepped past the tree line, and the forest swallowed me whole.

No fanfare. No marker. Just a quiet shift. The air pressed closer, as if the land itself had been waiting.

So this is the Outlands, I thought. 

I walked for a while, leading the horse by the reins. The ground turned uneven, roots and rocks jutting out like bones through skin. Insects clicked from the underbrush. Somewhere in the distance, a low howl drifted through the trees. Not a wolf. Something deeper.

The silence wasn't empty. It listened.

I stopped beside a fallen log and dropped my satchel, letting the cold seep into my boots as I sat. The horse nickered softly, ears flicking toward the trees. I reached out and ran my hand along its neck. "We're on our own now."

The words felt strange in my mouth, like I was saying them just to hear something human.

A rustle.

I froze.

It was faint, but it was there. 

I stood slowly, heart suddenly loud in my chest. The horse stomped once, nervous, head rising.

"Who's there?" I called out.

No answer.

I turned in a slow circle, trying to pierce the dark. Shapes shifted between the trees: branches swaying, shadows crawling. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was the wind.

Or maybe not.

I reached for the hunting knife they'd given me. My fingers curled around the hilt, but I didn't draw it yet.

The sound came again. Closer this time.

I backed toward the horse, trying not to make noise. My eyes scanned the brush. Nothing moved. But the feeling was there, sharp and undeniable.

Then, the sound came again. Low and guttural. Like breath dragged through wet gravel.

The horse froze. Its ears pricked forward. Muscles bunched.

"Easy," I said, trying to calm it. My fingers gripped the reins tight, heart already hammering.

Then came the second sound.

A snap. Not from a branch, from something bigger. Bone? Bark?

The horse lost it.

It shrieked and reared, eyes rolling white.

"Wait—!"

I held on a second too long.

The reins tore from my grip. The satchel yanked free from the saddle as the beast twisted, kicked, then bolted into the trees, vanishing into the dark.

"No! No, come back!"

I stumbled after it, but the hooves were already fading. My only ride gone in seconds.

My breath came fast. Shallow.

What the in the seven hells was that sound?

I turned.

The trees behind me were still. Too still.

There was a shimmer. A ripple in the air, like the forest itself was bending.

My stomach turned cold as I watched.

Out of nowhere, the underbrush exploded. A shape, massive, wrong, all muscle and bone, burst out with a scream that wasn't human. Jaws unhinged, eyes like pits, it lunged straight for me.

I ran, screaming.

Branches clawed at my face. Thorns tore at my arms. I didn't care. I couldn't.Panic had transformed the world into noise and movement. My foot caught on a root.I pitched forward, caught myself, and kept running.

Behind me, something crashed through the trees. Fast. Too fast.

I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned. My heart slammed so loudly I thought it would rupture.

What was that thing?

I didn't dare look back.

I just ran faster.

Another sound followed—a dragging, slithering grind, like something massive moving just out of sight.

"No—please—please no—"

I burst through the undergrowth, and the ground vanished beneath me.

My foot slipped. The slope was steeper than I'd seen. I tumbled forward, crashing through wet ferns and snapping branches. The world flipped, sky, dirt, sky again. Something slammed into my side. I couldn't stop. I rolled, hard and helpless, down the incline until the earth finally leveled out.

I hit the bottom with a thud that rattled my bones.

Mud slicked my arms. Leaves stuck to my face, tangled in my hair. The world tilted. My vision swam.

I groaned and tried to push myself up. My limbs felt heavy, like they didn't belong to me. I staggered to my feet, swaying. One hand braced against a tree. The other wiped at my face, smearing dirt across my cheek. I blinked hard, trying to force my eyes to focus.

Shapes emerged through the blur: broken stone, slick with moss and half-swallowed by vines, jutting out from the forest floor.

An abandoned ruin.

It rose before me like a skeleton of something long forgotten. Stone arches broken by time. Steps that led nowhere. A shattered pedestal veined with lichen. I didn't know what it was. Or why it made my skin crawl.

But I had nowhere else to go.

And the forest wasn't done hunting.

I stumbled forward, dragging my foot behind me. Pain flared with every step. My ankle throbbed, but I kept going. I had to.

Behind me, somewhere in the dark, the screech came again. Faint but close enough to feel. The kind of sound that didn't belong in any world I knew.

I pushed through the vines that clung to the ruin's broken archway, their leaves slick with rain or dew or something else I didn't want to name. My shoulder hit the stone as I passed, and I nearly crumpled. My legs buckled, but I caught myself against the wall.

Inside, it was colder. The air didn't move. Dust and damp filled my lungs.

It wasn't much, just a shell of whatever this place used to be. Stone pillars cracked through the middle. The remains of a ceiling half-collapsed. Debris littered the ground: fallen beams, broken tiles, fragments of statuary. But there were shadows, corners, places to hide.

That was enough.

I limped deeper into the ruin, boots scraping over old stone. My vision blurred. Every blink took longer. I clutched the satchel to my side and reached for the nearest wall, using it to guide myself.

"Just a little farther," I whispered. "Just a place to rest."

My breath rasped in my throat. I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted salt.

There. An alcove, half-sheltered by fallen rubble. I dropped to my knees, then crawled the last few steps into it. I pressed my back to the cold stone and pulled my knees to my chest. My side ached. My arms were scraped raw. My hands trembled as I pulled the crooked stick from my satchel and clutched it close.

Eian's wand. I hadn't lost it.

Outside, something howled again. Farther now. But still out there.

I couldn't let myself sleep. Not here. Not yet.

What if it comes back?

What if it never left?

I blinked hard, trying to keep my eyes open. They fought me. My head drooped once, twice. I shook it off. Bit the inside of my cheek. Forced one more breath in.

Stay awake, Kael.

Stay…

My body didn't listen.

Darkness closed in. My hand loosened on the stick. My head slumped against the wall.

And then, finally, I slept.