Redmere Woods fell more and more into silence as midnight drew closer.
The road that led to Brevin City was narrow, and the old, expansive forest pressed up against it. Above, tall trees, their leaves hardly moving, formed a fragmented canopy. A dark portal opened silently deep in the woods, where no road led, and no light remained. After folding inward, the shadows spread apart.
A lone owl watched from a distant branch, its head turning once.
A woman stepped through.
She was tall. Off balance. Wrapped in a long black cloak that dragged across the forest floor. Her long black hair slid over her face, shadowing tired eyes that no longer had the strength to look up. A strip of dark fabric covered her eyes, tied tight enough to leave faint marks on her skin.
Beneath the cloak, her body bore bruises—old and new—layered without pattern, as if time itself had struck her more than once
She took a step. Then another.
Her legs shook. Her breath was cut short as she fell to one knee, and the ground slanted. A gradual, heavy pain spread through her dull, overwhelming, as if her body were remembering too much at once.
She stayed still for a moment, listening.
No pursuit. No voices. Only the forest breathing around her.
She struggled to retrieve a little thing from the fold of her small piece of cloth. Faintly shining on her bleeding palm, it resembled a pearl, smooth and pale.
As her fingers closed around it, a memory surfaced—soft, distant, fragile.
A woman with silver-threaded hair. Calm eyes. A voice lowered to a whisper.
It will help you escape, the witch had said.
But it will cost you pain… and sleep around the clock.
The woman's hand tightened. She had already paid worse, at any rate.
She put the seed to her lips and swallowed.
First, warmth spread, soft enough to be deceptive. Her body then seized.
Breath was sucked out of her lungs in a single, quiet gasp as her muscles suddenly tensed. Her power wavered, and she gripped a neighboring tree, the bark slicing into her flesh. The cloak, which was getting heavier by the moment, fell off her shoulders. The pain in her bones caused them to bend inward and reshape under the constant pressure.
Refusing to scream, she squeezed her lips together.
The only sound to break the silence was her slow, strained, uneven breathing.
Redmere Woods offered no movement, no sign of guidance.
***
As his old vehicle rattled over the tiny road that cut through the edge of Redmere Woods, Grandpa Eldrin kept both hands on the steering wheel. Two pale lines were etched into the darkness by the headlights. Even though he had traveled this route for years, it felt strange to him now.
Beside him, the radio whispered.
"…authorities report another unexplained death late this evening," the announcer said. "Doctors confirm heart failure as the cause, though no prior conditions were recorded. This marks the fifth such case this month. Officials continue to deny any connection…"
Grandpa Eldrin frowned slightly, eyes still on the road.
"…the date is August 22, 1999.
We'll bring you more after midnight."
The radio clicked softly as static returned.
His phone rang.
"Grandpa?" Lyra's voice came through, tight with worry.
"What, dear?" he said. "Almost there."
"Is Adri with you? He hasn't come back, and no one's seen him."
Grandpa Eldrin glanced at the empty passenger seat. "No. He didn't come with me."
A pause.
"I don't like this," Lyra said quietly.
"Neither do I," he replied. "I'll call you back soon."
He ended the call and slowed.
Something ahead moved where nothing should have.
A tiny figure pulled itself forward along the edge of the road, just out of the headlights' line of sight. It was followed by a cloth, far too big for the body underneath.
FELLED!!!
Grandpa Eldrin eased the truck to a stop.
He checked the mirror. The road behind him was empty. No other cars. No houses. Just the forest and the moon, full and bright, hanging low as if watching.
He stepped out.
It felt less warm than it should have at night. He walked across the gravel shoulder, his boots crunching softly. The figure lay still, now motionless and lying next to the roadway, half-covered by the big cloak.
His chest tightened—not fear, exactly, but a deep unease he couldn't name.
"Hello?" he called.
No answer.
He took another glance around. There was no sound, no activity in the woods. Just the moonlight and the endless, uncaring road.
He reached down and carefully lifted the cloak's edge.
He exhaled sharply as his breath left him.
HOLY SHIT!!!
The word failed him.
Small.
Whatever was underneath was not supposed to exist in this way or be here.
Grandpa Eldrin slowly stood up, his heart racing as the moment's weight fell upon him like a door closing.
This was not an ENDING….
And it was not a BEGINNING….