Chapter 3,
The trees towered, their trunks twisted like ancient sentinels hiding their secrets. The moonlight barely penetrated, only wisps of silver illuminating the winding path before him. This was no ordinary forest. This was a boundary between worlds.
His muscles tensed as he cautiously took a step forward. This forest would test not only his sword, but his mind as well. He felt it in his bones. Suddenly, a terrifying scream cut through the silence, like a knife through velvet. Azrodyl froze. The sound was raw, thick with fear and pain. He clenched his jaw and braced himself to run, but then…
The whispering returned! Not one voice, but many, like a chorus circling around him. It came from the trees, from the ground, from the sky. Soft, elusive sounds that wormed their way into his mind. His thoughts began to blur, reality became fluid. *"Turn around..."* *"This is not your fight..."* *"She's already given up on you..."*
Azrodyl closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his head, but the voices penetrated his consciousness like icy fingers. The shadows around him seemed to shrink and expand, like breath. His breathing quickened. He had to break free! He grabbed his sword, unsheathed it, and slammed the flat of it against his thigh. The sharp pain cut like a knife through the fog in his mind. The voices stopped for a moment, and Azrodyl seized that moment. He tore himself free from the shadows' grasp and ran, ran without looking back, toward the screams.
The path narrowed, the branches clutching at him like claws. Finally, he reached a clearing where a dilapidated cottage stood, half hidden beneath the canopy. The wood was rotten, the walls sagging under the pressure of time. But behind the slanting door came a soft sob.
Azrodyl raised his sword and stepped forward. What awaited him there, he didn't know. But he would face it.
