NOVEL WEB Ch. 2: Creatures in the Dark
Ch. 2
“Creatures in the Dark”
I fall through the darkness, the wind tearing around me as the earth rushes up to greet me. The thrill of falling, of controlling my destiny, is intoxicating, a reckless abandonment of everything else that plagues me. It is only at the last moment, with the ground a mere heartbeat away, that I unfurl my wings, gliding gracefully just above the blades of grass that coat the forest floor. The sudden lift sends a jolt through my veins, battling the cold inside as I soar into the moonlit sky.
The forest is alive with a cold, but inside — inside me — I am still shattering into a million pieces of frozen glass. But my attention shifts to the shadows that move with predatory grace, and their howls make even the trees shake — Varcolac. Glowing amber eyes, shining like a flame in the dim light. Prowling in search of their next meal. They move in a coordinated pack, a unit, each member attuned to the other, their powerful forms weaving between the trees as they hunt a rare white stag, an Anhanga. The creature, pure as the moonlight, stands out against the dusky backdrop, its pale coat shimmering as it races through the forest.
My heart hammers in my chest as I fly upward, the Varcolacs’ dark forms compared to the ethereal glow of the stag capture my attention. One of the Varcolacs lifts its head, nostrils flaring as if it caught an alluring scent. Its piercing gaze turns upward, narrowing as it spots me, a tiny silhouette beating her wings faster in the infinite sky.
Time seems to stretch — I could almost feel the weight of the Varcolac’s eyes tracking me in the sky. The feat of being noticed by a hunter, a predator, something like myself, only fuels my drive. With powerful strokes of my wings, I veer higher, adrenaline coursing through me as I navigate the darkened forest, the haunting howls of Varcolac echoing below me.
High above the treetops, the Varcolac move as one through the forest. A leader at the front, a Pureblood, the one that rules over the rest, moves with the grace of a skilled predator. Purebloods can shift effortlessly between their dominating wolf forms and the guise of innocent humans, but they are anything, but innocent. I watch from the safety of the skies as the Pureblood veers off while the rest of the pack closes in the distance to the white stag.
The muscle, Halfbloods, though less refined, trapped in their wolf forms, are driven by their primal instincts. Their snarls echo up to me as their claws dig into the ground, getting closer and closer. They snap their mighty jaws in frustration at the commands and duties they must follow. I can almost feel their relentless drive clawing the very air around us.
In front of the Halfbloods, are something that makes my skin prickle. The Turned, their bodies contoured and raw. Mortals, bitten and cursed, transformed under the full moon with no control — only hunger. The full moon shines and highlights all the corners of the world below. The Turned rip and crawl over each other, driven by their need — to kill. I can hear their claws tearing through tree bark, shredding flesh as the first one has finally reached the stag with brutal efficiency. Even up here, their bloodlust reaches me, a palpable force carried on the wind like a warning.
As I glide through the night, the Varcolac’s chaotic energy swirls around me. Urging me to keep my distance, to remember the peril that lurks just below the tree’s canopies. With every beat of my wings, I push further away, a bat in the darkness, acutely aware that I could easily become the hunted.
A low rumble thrums in the depths of my mind, the beast stirs behind my mental door I have carefully locked him behind. His presence taps along my thoughts as his claws drum along the wooden door. Probably sensing the danger lurking in the shadows below. I feel an urgent pulse of our shared power, a wild, instinctual warning that something is amiss, and that I am wandering too close to the edge of danger.
Go away. I groan, the words moving between my ears, drowned out by the tapping of claws.
Below, the ground glistens faintly in the moonlight, still slick with recent rainfall. The earth, damp and soft, has left trails of mud in the underbrush where creatures have moved through, their prints barely visible on the shadowed forest floor. The wizard, Solomanori, with his dragon, Druzin, the tales say their magic controls the weather, summoning rain to cool a land too dry or to spark life into parts of the forest that are dying. I wonder if they’re watching even now, guiding the storm that has recently passed.
I rise higher in the sky, the treetops softening beneath me as I search for anything to pull me out of my head. My eyes drink in the endlessness before me, desperate for a distraction. I think of the stories I’ve read, tales of lands near and far, of places like this mysterious forest, the Endless Forest — right here in Adros.
As a child, I devoured every tale, imagining the forest’s ancient trees whispering secrets only the brave could hear. The forest fascinated me even then, just as much as it terrified my peers. But for me, it wasn’t fear coursing through my nerves — it was hope, a promise, a chance to uncover the mysteries within the forest, and perhaps, finding a remedy to the icy storms brewing inside me.
The world unfolds, expanding and untamed, a place that filled my dreams. Now that it is before me, I am entranced by its beauty. The mountains fade into soft curves of hills and valleys, stretching out under the night sky, pulling me further away from everything I knew.
Below, wisps of light flicker like winter snowflakes, reminding me of the rare peace I felt while cold, not from my rebellious powers — no, from the quiet moments when even nature seems to hush the world. My eyes drift over the boundless trees, their gold, orange, and crimson leaves painting the forest in autumn’s fire. It is breathtaking, a vivid tapestry that draws me into its embrace, shielding me from everything else.
My wings push through the breeze as a guttural roar of an Onkiuma rumbles through the crumbling mountain range like a distant rockslide. I catch a glimpse of one nestle among the trees, its massive form dwarfing the surrounding landscape. But instead of the terror I have read about, the creature is sitting on its haunches, munching on a mysterious fruit with a kind of innocent delight as it sways with each bite. The devil bear looks harmless at this moment, its shaggy fur catching the full moon. My amusement is short-lived when another Onkiuma lumbers into view, its eyes fixated on the first bear’s sweet treat.
The change is evident — as the two creatures tumble into a chaotic brawl, swiping at each other with their enormous paws, growls, and huffs move through the air. It is a savage display over something so sweet, yet their brute force, reminds me of their ferocity. These creatures don’t just squabble over fruit, they raid farms and towns. I can’t help but tense as I fly higher, imagining those paws ripping apart any mortal unlucky enough to cross their path. Evil follows them, or so the villagers say — whether it is the vengeance of angry farmers or just something hungrier lurking after smelling the scent of a hunt or a sweet treat.
I exhale, watching my breath swirl and disappear into the night. Most run from the dark, from the unknown horrors that fill the night with howls and roars. They flee the Endless Forest with its dangers — creatures stalking the shadows, hungry and ruthless. But not me. I sought it out. The forest called to me. Here I can feel free, surrounded by terrors more dangerous than me, and the beast within, for now.
The Varcolacs’ howls and the Onkiuma’s growls echo in my mind as I reflect on the savage nature around me. Both reveal a glimpse of life’s struggles here, where survival often means a fight against formidable odds.
My wings beat, one after the other, a faint whoosh in the breeze, nothing compared to the symphony of the forest below me — the soft hum of insects, the occasional rustling of leaves, and the flitting of other bats weaving through the darkness. A cacophony of life thrives all around, each sounds a rhythm of nature’s pulse. But then, a piercing scream slices through, sharp and haunting, like nails scraping over stone.
My muscles tense, locking in place as a wave of recognition hits me. I know that cry — the unmistakable scream of a Samca. A shiver runs down my spine, and my wings tremble involuntarily. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat quicker than the last. I can’t quite place where I have heard it before, but the memory claws at the edges of my mind, much like the beast does, but this memory is buried in the fog that clouds my past. Still, there is a bone-deep certainty, a visceral understanding that tightens around me. I know this sound, and it fills me with dread.
The stories of their hollow, submerged eyes, their shrieks that can drive you mad with insanity, fill my thoughts. Lore says that they drag you into the underworld through entrances hidden deep within the Endless Forest. But, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just a tale, a story to supply the pages of books, not for me. I have heard this scream before. I have felt it. And I know there was someone…someone I had to protect.
Who? I can’t remember. But the fear clings to me, tightening my chest, and making my muscles tremble harder. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I push myself to fly faster, adrenaline fueling me. I need to keep going, the memories lurking just beyond my reach, feeding my wings to keep moving.
I push forward, the Samca’s screams still echoing faintly behind me, and the weight of the Endless Forest settles back in. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting shadows that dance like a breath on the wind. I have always been drawn here, long before I ever flew above its infinite canopy. In the moments when my world felt too small, too controlled, I’d let my mind wander to stories of this place.
Those tales painted pictures of timeworn trees and creatures prowling beneath their branches, filling the gaps in my troubled thoughts. But now, flying through it, feeling its weight, its power, I wonder — was it the sway of the branches or the beast themselves that called me here? Or maybe, it was something concealed. Something my world I left behind could never offer me.
As I drift deeper into this place that has always called my name, I find myself slipping further from what I knew and closer to something wild, something unfamiliar, but I don’t stop.
—
With the full moon high above me, I have lost track of how long I have been wandering. Days? Weeks? Time seems to slip away in this ghostly ether that swallows the forest. As I move through it, I breathe in the smells, let my eyes absorb the shadows, feel the pulse of the earth. It is all so new, so untouched by my world, and just waiting for me to discover every secret, every dark corner.
The more I venture, the more the world seems to change around me, like it is alive and moving with every flap of my wings. The autumn wind wraps around me, its voice loud and demanding in my ears. I pause, exhale a deep sigh, and then I feel it — the air moving with me, bending to my will.
My wind.
A smile creeps across my face as I close my eyes for a moment, letting the breeze push me onward, carrying me further into the unknown.