The following morning, the four friends ventured into Mistwood Forest to hunt. The wind howled through the trees, scattering fallen leaves along the forest floor. Aldric led the way, searching for tracks, while Evander watched the trees around them. Leoric followed close behind, pushing aside branches that caught against his clothes, and Dorian walked a little farther back, scanning the ground for movement.
"Look at this," Evander said, crouching beside a patch of soft earth.
Aldric stepped closer. "Deer?"
Evander nodded. "Fresh tracks, too."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Leoric asked. "Let's follow them."
Aldric straightened. "You do remember we're hunting, not racing through the forest?"
"I remember. But I think we need to do something to hasten this hunt so I can eat. I am terribly hungry."
Dorian laughed. "You ate before we left."
"And that was hours ago."
"It's barely been an hour," Evander pointed out.
Leoric gave him a look. "I guess everyone here is good at keeping track of time instead of the trail. And that is no good."
Aldric shook his head and continued along the trail, and the others followed.
They spread out as they searched for game, keeping within sight of one another. Every so often, one of them spotted movement among the trees, but the animals disappeared before they could get close.
After some time, Dorian noticed what looked like an antelope moving between the trees ahead.
He slowed, careful not to disturb the leaves beneath his feet, and followed it deeper into the forest. The animal appeared briefly between two trees before bounding away.
Dorian quickened his pace.
"Just hold still for a moment," he murmured.
The antelope emerged farther ahead, then vanished into the woods before he could get close enough.
Dorian sighed and continued after it.
The heat and exertion soon began to wear on him. Sweat gathered along his forehead, and his throat grew uncomfortably dry. He reached for the water he had brought with him, only to discover that his container was nearly empty.
He tipped it back and swallowed the last few drops.
"Wonderful," he muttered.
He glanced around, hoping to find a stream nearby. The forest stretched in every direction, and he could no longer hear his friends talking.
He decided to look for water before returning to them.
As he moved between the trees, an old stone structure caught his attention.
Dorian stopped.
It was the same well the elder had warned them about the other day. He remembered the vivid description of its moss-covered walls and the thick vines that curled around the weathered stones. The water inside was remarkably still, its surface reflecting the trees above.
He approached slowly, his attention fixed on the clear water.
Before long, Dorian stood beside the well, looking down at the surface. His reflection stared back at him, slightly distorted by a faint movement in the water. His hair was damp with sweat, and dirt marked his face from the morning's hunt. A few strands clung to his forehead.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
His dry throat reminded him why he was standing there.
Dorian looked towards the trees, then back at the water.
He remembered the elder speaking about the terrible consequences that had followed those who ignored the restriction. Yet the old man had admitted that nobody knew exactly what had happened to them.
Dorian knew he should leave.
But the water looked cool, and the thought of walking farther through the forest in search of another source seemed unbearable.
"Just one drink," he murmured.
He dipped his cupped hands into the water.
It was cold against his skin.
Dorian raised the water to his lips and drank. He took another handful, swallowing greedily before leaning forward for one more.
As he lowered his hands, he caught sight of his reflection again.
For a moment, he watched it.
The water was so still that his face appeared almost lifelike beneath the surface. He could make out the dirt along his cheek and the damp strands of hair falling across his forehead.
Then the reflection moved.
Dorian froze.
The water rippled, though he had already drawn his hands away.
He leaned back, watching as the ripples spread from the centre of the well, growing wider until his reflection began to break apart.
A faint sound rose from the water.
Dorian frowned.
It sounded like a whisper, distant and indistinct, almost swallowed by the forest.
He leaned forward, trying to hear it.
The water began to move.
At first, it was only a gentle disturbance, as though something had shifted beneath the surface. Then the ripples grew stronger, rolling against the stone walls.
Dorian scrambled backwards.
The water rose.
It climbed towards the rim of the well, lifting in a twisting column that shimmered beneath the sunlight. For a brief moment, it hung above the stones, suspended in the air.
Dorian stared at it, unable to move.
Something seemed to stir within the rising water, an indistinct shape he could neither recognise nor understand.
The whispering grew louder.
His heart hammered against his chest.
"What—"
The word died in his throat.
The water surged towards him.
Dorian stumbled backwards, nearly losing his footing as he scrambled away from the well. He turned and ran through the forest without looking back.
Branches struck his arms, and his boots caught against exposed roots. He barely noticed. All he could think about was the water rising above the stones and the strange sound that had emerged from it.
He ran until the well was far behind him and the sounds of animals moving through the forest returned around him.
Only then did he stop.
He bent forward, placing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Sweat ran down the sides of his face, and his heart was still racing.
He tried to steady himself.
Perhaps he had misunderstood what he had seen.
Maybe—
"Dorian?"
He jerked upright.
Aldric stood several steps away, staring at him in surprise.
Dorian stumbled backwards.
"What?"
Aldric frowned. "It's me. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Dorian stared at him, breathing hard.
Evander and Leoric emerged from between the trees.
"There you are," Leoric said. "We've been looking for you. What happened?"
Dorian opened his mouth, but no words came.
Evander approached him.
"Dorian, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
His answer came too quickly.
Aldric glanced at his clothes, then at his face.
"Why are you soaked? And why are you breathing like you've been running for your life?"
Dorian looked down at himself.
His clothes were dishevelled and wet, his hands trembled, and his breathing had yet to settle.
"I was..." He swallowed. "I was chasing an antelope."
"Chasing an antelope?" Evander repeated.
Dorian nodded, trying to gather himself.
"It ran through the trees, and I followed it. I thought I could get close enough to catch it, but I lost my footing."
Aldric folded his arms.
"And that explains why you look terrified and you're soaked?"
Dorian hesitated.
"I fell into the water," he blurted out. "I nearly drowned trying to get out."
Leoric's expression changed.
"You found a stream?"
Dorian nodded again.
"Yes. The bank was slippery, and I couldn't get a proper grip. I managed to pull myself out, but..." He glanced towards the trees behind him and stopped.
"But what?" Evander asked.
Dorian forced himself to look at them.
"Nothing. I'm fine now."
Aldric studied him carefully.
"Dorian, you've got cuts on your body."
"It's just the thorny branches. They scratched me as I ran through the forest."
"Then why didn't you call for us?"
"I was trying to get out!" Dorian snapped.
The others fell silent.
He looked at their faces and immediately regretted raising his voice.
"I'm sorry. I just... I was frightened. I thought I was going to drown."
Leoric's expression softened.
"Alright. You're out now, and you're safe."
Dorian nodded, though he wasn't certain he believed those words himself.
Evander watched him for another moment.
"Are you sure you can walk back?"
"Of course I can."
Aldric gave him a final, searching look before turning towards the trail.
"Then let's go. And next time, be careful where you're stepping."
Dorian followed without answering.
He couldn't tell them about the water that had risen above the stones or the whispering that had seemed to come from within it. He certainly couldn't explain why he could still hear the faint sound in his mind.
By the time they returned to Silvaris, Dorian had managed to regain some of his composure. He ate with his friends, listened to Leoric complain about how little meat they had caught, and even laughed when Aldric reminded him that he had spent half the day contributing nothing but complaints.
For a while, everything felt normal again.
That night, however, Dorian found himself lying awake in bed. He had been trying to sleep for what felt like hours, but his thoughts refused to settle. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the water rising above the old stones, twisting into a shape he couldn't understand.
He turned onto his side and pulled his sheet closer.
"It was only water," he whispered.
The words sounded unconvincing, even to him.
He closed his eyes again.
"Dorian."
His eyes snapped open.
He sat up and stared at the door.
Nobody stood there.
He listened carefully, waiting for footsteps or the sound of someone moving through the house.
Nothing.
He rubbed his face, irritated with himself.
Perhaps he had imagined it. He was tired, and tired people sometimes heard things.
He lay down again.
"Dorian."
This time, he sat up so quickly that the sheet slipped from his shoulders.
The voice had been clearer.
He looked towards the window, then at the door.
"Who's there?"
No one answered.
His heart began beating faster.
He climbed out of bed and checked the room, even looking behind the door despite knowing how foolish the action was. When he found nobody, he stood in the middle of the room, trying to make sense of what he had heard.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame his fear.
Dorian returned to bed and forced himself to remain still until sleep finally took him.
But when morning came, he woke feeling as though he had barely rested.
He blamed the strange interruption during the night and tried to forget it. When he met his friends, he behaved as he always had, laughing at their jokes and pretending that nothing was wrong.
For the next few days, he continued with his usual routine.
Yet sleep became increasingly difficult.
Some nights, he heard faint whispers that disappeared whenever he sat up to listen. On other nights, he woke suddenly, convinced that someone had touched him.
He began to dread closing his eyes.
Whenever he managed to sleep, his rest was shallow and troubled, leaving him exhausted when morning came.
Dorian told himself it was nothing. Perhaps he was becoming ill or worrying too much about what he had seen in the forest.
He tried not to think about the well.
But the voices continued.
With every passing night, it became harder to convince himself that he was imagining them.
One evening, as he sat alone in his room, a whisper drifted through the quiet.
This time, it did not call his name.
It sounded as though someone was speaking from very far away.
Dorian held his breath and listened.
The voice was too faint to understand, but there was something deeply unsettling about it. He could not tell whether it was coming from outside his window or from somewhere he could neither see nor reach.
He rose slowly from his bed.
"Please show yourself," he whispered.
The voice stopped.
Dorian stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the window.
For several moments, nothing happened.
Then, from somewhere in the silence, he heard another whisper.