Both Charlie and I stood frozen, our eyes locked on the surface of the pond.
Seconds stretched unbearably long.
Nothing surfaced.
No ripples disturbed the glassy water. No bubbles rose from below. The reflection of the towering trees remained perfectly intact, their twisted silhouettes swaying faintly as the branches above shifted in the breeze. The pond looked calm—too calm—like a mirror that refused to reveal what lay beneath it.
Slowly, painfully, the tension coiled in my body began to loosen.
"…It's gone," I whispered, my voice barely louder than a breath.
Charlie didn't lower his guard right away.
His gaze remained fixed on the pond, sharp and unblinking, as if he expected the water to explode at any moment. His posture stayed tense, muscles coiled, every part of him ready to react.
Several more heartbeats passed before he finally nodded once.
"It seems so," he said quietly.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
"So…" I hesitated, glancing nervously at the water again. "We can't drink this water now, right?"
Charlie considered it for a moment. His eyes swept across the pond, then the surrounding trees, then the shadows between the roots and rocks nearby.
"We can," he said at last. "But we must do it carefully—without disturbing the surface or making unnecessary sound. Drink quickly, then leave."
I nodded immediately.
Every cell in my body screamed that this was a terrible idea—but thirst was clawing at my insides. My lips felt cracked, my tongue heavy. I hadn't realized how desperate I was until the possibility of water stood right in front of me.
We approached the pond slowly, every step measured.
The ground near the water was damp and uneven, moss clinging to stones and roots. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears as I knelt near the edge, careful not to let my shadow fall across the surface.
The water looked exactly the same as before—clear, smooth, deceptively peaceful.
I peered into its depths.
At first, I saw nothing but my own reflection and the mirrored trees above. But the longer I stared, the more unsettling it became. The water was too clear. I could see deep beneath the surface—far deeper than I should have been able to. Ten meters down… maybe more.
Below that—
Only darkness.
A vast, swallowing black that felt less like an absence of light and more like something watching from below.
Charlie stepped slightly behind me.
"You drink first, Young Master," he said softly. "I'll stay alert."
I nodded, though my hands trembled as I lowered them into the water.
It was cold.
Shockingly cold.
I cupped the water carefully, barely letting it ripple, and brought it to my lips. I drank slowly, forcing myself to be silent, each swallow echoing loudly in my ears.
My heart hammered with every second.
Half of me expected something to burst from the water and drag me under.
But nothing happened.
When I finished, I immediately backed away, scrambling to my feet and retreating several steps from the pond's edge.
Charlie moved forward next.
While he drank, I crouched beside him, my eyes fixed on the water's surface, scanning desperately for movement. My fingers dug into the dirt, nails scraping against stone as I held my breath.
Still nothing.
When Charlie finished, we retreated together, both of us exhaling quietly as if we'd been holding our breath the entire time.
"Let's move," Charlie said firmly. "Before something notices us."
I nodded quickly.
We left the pond behind, and almost immediately, the forest seemed to close in on us again.
As evening deepened, the Silent Forest grew more dangerous by the minute.
Shadows lengthened unnaturally, stretching across the forest floor like grasping fingers. Massive shapes moved between trees in the distance—too large to identify, too slow to be natural. Eyes glimmered briefly in the darkness before vanishing.
Every five minutes, it felt like we encountered something worse than before.
A low growl echoed from somewhere to our left.
A massive silhouette slithered across the ground ahead, its form impossible to fully see.
Something fluttered high above us, wings blotting out what little light filtered through the canopy.
Each time, we hid—just in time.
Behind fallen logs. Between jagged rocks. Beneath tangled roots that formed natural shelters. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure something would hear it.
But somehow…
We survived.
It felt as though luck itself was guiding our steps.
Or perhaps—
Something else.
When darkness finally settled completely, Charlie stopped walking.
"We shouldn't move at night," he said quietly. "The risk is too great."
I didn't argue.
Soon, we found a massive tree with a hollowed trunk wide enough to shelter us both. The inside was cramped and smelled of damp wood and earth, but it was better than being exposed.
We slipped inside and sealed the opening with thick bark, leaves, and branches until only faint slivers of moonlight slipped through.
Exhaustion claimed me before I even realized I was slipping away. Sleep dragged me under, heavy and unavoidable.
---
Father and Mother stood together beneath the warm lights of the mansion hall, just as they always had—elegant, composed, smiling with that familiar gentleness that made everything feel safe. Their laughter echoed softly, rich and warm, filling the space like music.
But I wasn't there.
I stood at a distance, separated by something I couldn't see. I called out to them—once, twice—my voice growing louder, more desperate with each cry.
They didn't hear me.
No matter how hard I screamed, they never turned around.
Then their smiles began to change.
Slowly. Unnaturally.
The warmth drained from their expressions as dark red streaks spilled from the corners of their lips. Blood traced down their faces, dripping onto the pristine marble floor below, staining it with a sickening finality.
Their eyes fixed on me at last.
And in them, there was no recognition.
I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my chest heaving as cold reality crashed down on me, the image still burned behind my eyes.
My breath came out sharp and uneven, my heart racing as I clutched my chest.
Charlie was still asleep beside me, sitting upright against the tree's inner wall, eyes closed but posture alert even in rest.
I peeked through the leaves covering the entrance.
It was midnight.
The forest was eerily quiet—too quiet. No insects. No distant calls. Just a suffocating stillness.
My stomach twisted painfully.
Hunger gnawed at me, dull but relentless.
Two days ago… I had been celebrating my birthday. Now I was hiding inside a tree in a deadly forest, waiting to die.
Do people know what happened to us?
Do my friends know?
The thought made my chest ache.
Without realizing it, my hand slipped beneath my shirt.
The book.
I pulled it out slowly. The cover felt cold beneath my fingers, yet faintly alive. The golden letters—MYSTICAL REALITY—glimmered softly, even in the darkness.
"What kind of book are you…?" I murmured under my breath.
My fingers tightened around its cover.
Father had guarded it with his life—hid it away from the world, from enemies, from even his own family. And even Charlie, who seemed to know so much about everything else, didn't truly understand what it was.
Yet somehow…
It had protected me.
That shield—
the way it burst forth without warning, without explanation—
how had it appeared?
I turned the book slowly in my hands, studying every edge, every worn corner, every unfamiliar symbol etched into its surface. The golden letters shimmered faintly, as if reacting to my touch.
Carefully, almost reverently, I tried to open it.
Nothing.
The cover didn't shift.
Didn't creak.
Didn't even tremble.
"…Why won't you open?" I whispered, frustration and unease twisting together in my chest.
Back in the underground chamber, it hadn't needed me at all. The pages had flipped on their own, as if guided by an unseen will—as if the book itself had chosen to awaken.
So why not now?
Before I could think further—
Footsteps.
My heart skipped violently. I froze.
Slowly—carefully—I reached out and nudged Charlie's arm.
"Charlie," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath, urgency trembling through it. "I hear footsteps."
His eyes snapped open instantly.
Gone was the weariness from moments ago. In its place was sharp awareness—focused, alert, dangerous. He didn't speak. He didn't even turn his head.
Instead, he lifted a single finger to his lips.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
And somewhere beyond the thin veil of leaves and bark—
the footsteps continued.
"Stay alert," he whispered. "Until whoever it is passes."
I nodded.
We leaned closer to the narrow gaps between the leaves and bark sealing the hollow, peering out into the forest beyond. The darkness outside felt thicker somehow, layered and oppressive, as though the night itself were pressing inward.
The footsteps grew louder.
Not rushed.
Not cautious.
Steady.
Each step crunched softly against fallen leaves, slow and deliberate, sending a chill straight through my spine. The sound echoed strangely in the stillness, too clear—too close.
My throat went dry.
Please… don't stop.
Please… just pass by.
My breathing grew shallow as I fought the urge to swallow. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, so loud I was sure it would give us away.
Then—
Two shapes emerged from the darkness.
They moved into a faint shaft of moonlight filtering through the canopy, their outlines sharpening just enough for me to see them clearly.
Humanoid.
Upright.
My breath caught painfully in my chest.
Humans…?