5 - Shadows of the Forest

Winding through the thick forest like a serpent's spine, our path to the lake revealed darker shadows with each turn. Old trees stood sentinel, their bark scarred and weathered, but none commanded the presence of the great oak behind us. I could feel its energy at our backs, like the watchful gaze of an ancient guardian, as we made our way deeper into the woods.

"Your hair will tangle into knots again," I observed, watching her fingers work the copper strands into hasty braids. "Remember when mother had to take shears to it because you couldn't sit still during lessons?"

She stuck out her tongue. "At least I don't look like someone who's seen ghosts whenever I wake up, dear brother." She reached up and ruffled my perpetually messy hair, ducking away from my retaliating swat with a giggle that seemed too loud in the forest's oppressive silence.

The laughter died quickly.

Above us, branches wove together in a living tapestry so dense that sunlight filtered through in mere whispers. The air hung thick with moisture, carrying the complex symphony of forest scents. Near the path, delicate white flowers with see-through stems swayed without wind, their petals chiming softly.

My boots broke through the soft upper crust of mud with each step. "This cursed mud..." I muttered as my foot sank particularly deep. "This better be worth it, little sister."

"You're just mad because you have to wade through it like a normal person while I..." She deliberately stepped on a patch of mud, but instead of sinking deep, her foot barely left an impression; this forest affected her like an advantage. She grinned at my scowl. "Sorcerers have their perks. And prodigies like me have much more advantage."

"Show-off," I grumbled, but couldn't help smiling. Her natural talent had always been a point of pride, even if it stung sometimes. And she knows her strength more than me.

The pure energy saturated the air around us, sensible to me only in the way it made her fingers twitch and dance at her sides. A cluster of ice-blue buds grew nearby, never quite blooming, their frozen petals catching what little light penetrated the canopy. Black thorny plants with blue highlights lined the path, seeming to bend away from our presence.

"The magic here is thick," I muttered, my fingers finding the sword's hilt. "It's... alive somehow."

Her response was a slight nod, but I caught her sticking her tongue out again when she thought I wasn't looking. Even here, in this oppressive place, she couldn't help being the annoying little sister. It was oddly comforting.

The lake appeared suddenly as if conjured from the forest's shadow and mist, like a perfect black mirror stretched beneath the bruised sky. No wind disturbed its surface; even the air seemed to hold its breath here. Trees crowned its edges, their gnarled branches reaching over the water like mourners bent in prayer, fingers trailing in the depths. Along the shore, silvery moss wept luminescent tears that traced patterns across the water's surface before fading too quickly, as if the lake hungrily devoured even light itself.

"It's beautiful," She whispered, her usual mischief subdued by the lake's presence. "And scary. Like the stories about the old places."

I watched her approach the water's edge, her movements careful, almost reverent. The air grew heavier with each step she took, thick with potential. She knelt at the shoreline above the rock, her small frame somehow both vulnerable and powerful in that moment. When her fingers touched the water's surface, barely a whisper of contact, ripples spread in perfect circles—too perfect, too deliberate to be natural.

She closed her eyes, her breath steadying into the rhythm our mother had taught us years ago. I recognized the counting: four heartbeats in, hold for seven, release for eight. The air around her began to shimmer, like heat waves rising from summer stones, but here in the perpetual twilight of the forest, it felt more profound. Raw power responded to her call, drawn to her like a falling tree to the ground.

"That's it," I murmured, taking a step back as the energy built. "Just like mother showed us."

The magic gathered around her in visible waves now, making her hair float slightly as if she were underwater. Her skin began to glow faintly from within, like sunlight through alabaster. This was what awakening should look like, what mine should have been. The thought stuck in my throat like a swallowed thorn.

Pride and pain warred in my chest as I watched my little sister reach for something I'd never grasp. The sword at my hip felt like a burden as if responding to my uneasy emotions. Alira had been born touched by magic; it sang in her blood, danced at her fingertips, and answered her calls like an eager friend. For her, the awakening will be as natural as a flower turning toward the sun.

And me? I had a blade I wielded with a skill I couldn't explain and instincts that felt borrowed from someone else. The magic I'd yearned for all my life flowed around me now, thick enough to taste the metallic tang on my tongue, yet it remained forever out of reach.

"Your control is getting better. Just keep that rhythm, little sister," I said, forcing warmth into my voice despite the hollow ache in my chest. It was true, and she was my sister, and her triumph shouldn't be shadowed by my failure or envy.

A faint smile touched her lips, though her eyes remained closed in concentration. Even now, on the path of her awakening, she was still my little sister; the same girl who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms, who'd act as a sorceress by just lighting candles in my room when we try to read at night, and the same girl who'd once cut my hair in my sleep for hiding her favorite storybook.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Time stretched like honey in the forest's embrace. What sun pierced the canopy began its slow descent westward. An hour passed, then another. The air grew colder, autumn's bite creeping through the trees, but around Alira, subtle warmth began to build.

My eyes swept the treeline with growing unease. Shadows that had seemed natural before now appeared to shift when I looked away. The silence felt wrong, too complete. Even the insects had gone quiet, as if something had frightened them into hiding.

"Warmth," she murmured without opening her eyes. "Even in this cold, I feel heat flowing through my veins."

Her breathing remained steady, though strain showed in the tight lines around her eyes. Magic danced about her like a living thing, drawn to her potential but not yet ready to make itself hers. Small wisps of essence rose and fell in gentle patterns, more than she had ever managed before, but still far from true awakening.

"Close now," I breathed, watching faint luminescence bloom beneath her skin. "But do not push too hard. You remember what happens when..."

She cracked one eye open to glare at me. "That was only time you ever failed, and you promised never to—"

The peaceful moment was shattered with a sound like breaking branches.

My hand found steel before thought could intervene. A bestial growl rolled through the trees, carrying with it the stench of open graves and rotting meat. "Shit," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Alira, get behind me. Now!"

Two goblins slunk from the dense underbrush, their hunched bodies moving through the shadows with unsettling speed. Their pale, mottled green skin was smeared with filth, and their yellow eyes gleamed with a savage hunger. Both carried a crude, rusted blade, more disease than steel.

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched them approach, muscles coiling with tension. Goblins never strayed this far from their caves. Their presence here, near the lake, meant something was wrong.

One of them lunged quicker than I expected. Its rusty blade sliced through the air, aiming low for my legs. I sidestepped just in time, but the wet ground shifted beneath me, nearly throwing me off balance. I grunted, regaining my footing just as the goblin attacked again. My sword came up to meet its strike, the impact jarring my arm. The goblin snarled, its filthy teeth bared in frustration, eyes gleaming with vicious intent.

The other goblin circled behind me, waiting for an opening. I could feel its eyes on me, calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Then, something inside me shifted.

My body moved before my mind could catch up. Instincts that were mine, or someone’s, took over. My feet shifted, my grip tightened, and my sword swung in a fluid horizontal arc, cutting through the air with a speed that startled even me.

The first goblin never had a chance. The blade sliced cleanly through its neck, its head rolling across the ground in a spray of thick green blood and the insides. The creature’s body crumpled at my feet, lifeless. I stood there, panting, staring down at the body as the adrenaline surged through my veins. I didn’t know what I looked like at that moment, but I can say it was not me; this insatiable bloodthirst was not mine; this rage was not mine.

"Bastard," I spat as the other goblin hesitated, its eyes flicking between me and the fallen creature at my feet. It screeched, baring its teeth, but my feet had already moved. The blade flashed again, faster this time, and the goblin hit the ground with a wet thud, its throat opened to the grey sky. The stench of their blood, like that of rotten meat, made my stomach turn. But the bloodthirst was still there, searching for something, for someone.

"Brother..." Alira's voice trembled. Gone was the teasing sister, replaced by something more uncertain. "How did you..."

Her voice, though filled with fear, sounded sweet to me, pulling me from the darkness like a torch lit in the night. I looked at her, she was trembling at my sight. Under her brother’s gaze, the same brother who should have made her feel safe, made her feel protected.

"I-I don't know." The words tasted like copper on my tongue. The sword felt heavy again, unfamiliar.

She stepped closer, placing a small hand on my arm. "You're shaking." Her voice was soft, the same concerned tone she'd used months ago when I'd failed my awakening. "Einar... you are still there?"

"Y-Yes. I am," I said, too quickly. I forced a weak smile. "Just don't tell anyone your brother cursed like a drunkard, okay?"

She didn't laugh. Her eyes searched my face with growing worry, still processing her own disappointment alongside this new fear. The warmth she'd felt during her meditation was already fading, leaving only the forest's autumn chill.

I ignored her concern, crouching beside the nearest corpse as something caught my attention. Faint scars marked the creature's legs, old wounds that spoke of chains and captivity. My fingers traced the raised flesh, confusion stirring in my chest.

"Is this why they wandered so far from their caves?" I muttered, studying the marks that told stories of suffering.

A rustling came from deep in the trees, weak and low but somehow my ears caught it. The sound of something small and frightened, hiding in the shadows. I looked toward the darkness, my gaze lingering on one particular spot where the gloom seemed deeper than it should be.

A small hand touched my shoulder. "Can we go home, brother?" Alira's whisper carried fear I'd never heard from her before, raw and honest as an open wound.

I rose slowly, placing my hand on her copper hair in a gesture meant to comfort us both. "Yes. Let's leave before darkness claims the forest."

Alira fell in behind me, close enough that I could feel her trembling slightly. The playful sister was gone, replaced by a frightened girl who suddenly seemed very young. I reached back and squeezed her hand, just once, like I used to do when nightmares crept into her dreams.

Questions churned in my stomach like poison as we left the lake behind. Something was awakening inside me, something that felt both completely right and terribly wrong, like wearing someone else's gloves that fit perfectly on my hands.

The rustling came once more from the shadows, and despite every instinct telling me not to, I turned to look. The darkness between the trees stared back, empty and silent. Whatever had made that sound was gone now, or perhaps had never been there at all. Just the wind through dead leaves, I told myself. Nothing more.

But the feeling of being watched lingered long after we'd left that cursed place behind.