Arthur took his time staring all around his surroundings, every slow rotation of his head tightening the knot of unease in his stomach. He had never seen anything like this before. In truth, he had barely seen anything of the outside world at all. His entire life had been spent behind the fortified walls of the Castigir castle—its courtyards, corridors, and training halls forming the borders of his existence. Beyond that, he knew nothing. Not the open sky, not the wilderness, and certainly not this strange forest that now towered around him like a living nightmare carved out of a forgotten land.
He squinted, trying to make sense of the dull-grey trees rising like massive skeletal pillars. Their bark looked dead, stripped of all warmth and life, and the air around them felt heavy with age, as though the forest itself had been breathing for centuries before he arrived. Nothing about this place felt welcoming.
"You might be wondering where this is?"
Argon stepped up behind him, his presence thick, his tone quieter than usual. Arthur turned slightly, catching the way his brother's eyes drifted over the forest—not with fear, not with awe, but with something deeper and heavier. Nostalgia.
Argon had been here before.
So had their mother.
Arthur swallowed, suddenly feeling even smaller.
'No doubt this is where the Darwan train themselves,' he thought, a dry scrape forming in his throat at the idea. Why would a family—his family—need to train themselves in a place like this? How harsh must the lessons be that they required a forest that looked like a graveyard of trees and shadows?
"If it's strange, get accustomed to it. Because this is where you'll be spending the next few years of your life, Art," Lady Castigir said as she walked past both boys, not slowing, not looking back, her footsteps confident and cold against the stony terrain.
Argon followed immediately, falling into step behind her without hesitation, as though his feet already knew the path. But Arthur… Arthur remained rooted for a few seconds longer, unable to shake the heavy sensation crawling across his skin. Something about this place—this entire ordeal—felt foreboding, whispering warnings only he could hear.
Still, he forced himself to move and followed them into the forest.
They trekked across rocky terrain, their boots scraping against gravel and twisted roots. The wind roared through the trees like an unseen beast, its howls bouncing between the trunks in such a way that it sounded as though hundreds of creatures stirred just out of sight. Growls, whispers, low rumbling breaths—it all blended together in a terrifying symphony.
But nothing emerged.
Nothing moved except the wind itself.
Arthur didn't like it.
Tricks I don't like.
The deeper they went, the more unnatural things felt. The grey trunks towered over them, some cracked as though struck by tremendous force, others bent unnaturally as if trying to flee from something that had once passed through. The soil was black and thick, swallowing footsteps with muffled thuds, and the farther they walked, the more the air seemed to close in.
It felt like walking into the lungs of a sleeping monster.
Time dragged on in a slow, painful crawl. Minutes felt like hours. Arthur could no longer tell how long they had been walking when Lady Castigir finally stopped.
They arrived at what seemed like an ancient campsite—an area flattened by past use but now abandoned. A bonfire pit lay in the center, long extinguished. The half-burnt wood still lay in a pile, blackened, cracked, and grey with ash. Three wooden makeshift seats were arranged around the pit, placed with intention but aged by long exposure to the forest's hostile atmosphere.
The logs were the same dull grey as the trees surrounding them, as though even the wood had died here.
A shiver ran down Arthur's spine.
"This is where your first lesson will start," Lady Castigir announced, gesturing toward one of the logs.
Arthur approached slowly, inspecting the surface despite knowing he had no choice. He lowered himself onto it with caution. The wood was cold—too cold—and it felt as if it were draining the warmth from his body.
Argon chose a seat for himself with ease, settling down with a familiarity that only made Arthur more uneasy.
Lady Castigir nodded slightly toward Argon, some silent communication passing between them. Then without a word, she turned and began to walk deeper into the woods.
Arthur blinked, startled.
Why was she leaving?
What was he supposed to do now?
Was this part of the lesson?
He wanted to ask—desperately—but he kept his mouth shut. He had no right to question her. He knew that much. Here, in this place, she was not just his mother. She was something else entirely. Something stern, unyielding, forged by whatever horrors this forest held.
The silence that followed her departure was thick, stifling. The wind died down, the forest withdrew into stillness, and Arthur felt the weight of being alone with Argon press down on him.
He risked a glance at his brother.
Argon's face was unreadable—calm, stone-like, distant.
Arthur looked away.
'So what exactly is the Darwan training all about?' he wondered, his hands rubbing anxiously against the fabric of his trousers. He wanted to ask Argon—but something held him back.
He didn't know Argon. Not really. He didn't know who Argon was when Lady Castigir was not around. What if his older brother's kindness had been nothing more than a mask? And now that they were alone, that mask could fall away.
'Humans can put on a mask at any time. When they reveal their true self, it's when they want to be lethal,' he reminded himself, a saying etched into him from childhood.
His chest tightened.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Maybe more.
Arthur grew restless. His fingers tapped the log, his legs bounced, his eyes scanned the trees endlessly. Still no one returned.
Finally, he stood. Enough was enough.
He turned toward the path Lady Castigir had taken, deciding to go after her, to find answers, anything—
Creak.
A single sound. Sharp. Loud. Violent.
Arthur spun around instantly, heart jumping into his throat. But there was nothing—only trees, shadows, and the oppressive silence of the forest.
Then he heard it.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Heavy, earth-shaking footsteps. Like massive hooves slamming into the ground. Growing louder. Faster.
His pulse accelerated painfully.
Something was coming.
Something big.
Something wrong.
The sound of rushing air sliced beside his head—something large soaring past him. A blur of grey and brown crashed into the ground behind him. A tree.
A whole tree had been hurled at him.
He turned toward where it had come from, and his heart collapsed into ice.
From between the skeletal trees emerged a creature that should not exist. A beast resembling a rhinoceros at first glance, but grotesquely twisted, its skin covered in jagged, stone-like plates resembling shards of mountain rock. Its body dwarfed an elephant—twice the size, maybe more.
Its eyes glowed with a primal, hateful hunger.
It opened its mouth.
Rows and rows—hundreds—of massive tusk-like fangs jutted inward, layered in a way that made its maw look like the entrance to a serrated tunnel of death.
Arthur's blood ran cold.
"Shut! What the hell is this!" he screamed inside his mind, too terrified to say the words aloud.
His mind shrieked only one command:
"Run!!!"