The book bound in dark, weathered leather, its cover scratched as if by claws or thorns, edges frayed like something long-traveled and often clutched in desperation. The binding emits a faint warmth, not of heat, but of lingering memory, as though it remembers every hand that's opened it. Its spine bears no title, only a worn sigil etched faintly in silver, an eye pierced by a sword, with nine stars circling above it.
Inside, the pages are yellowed and crumbling, yet untouched by time's decay. No mold, no scent of rot. The ink has not faded. The corners, though creased and dog-eared, resist fire, water, and even blades. The book cannot be destroyed. On the first page, in elegant, looping script, only one sentence stands out in fresh black ink:
"Find nine keys to save your father."
Her breath hitched as the words etched themselves into her mind, echoing with a force that felt almost like memory, but there was nothing else.
The forest itself seemed to breathe around Elowen, an ancient, malevolent entity that groaned with a deep, hollow resonance, as if the trees whispered secrets too old and cruel to comprehend. The air hung thick with mist, a cold, clinging fog that blurred the edges of reality and distorted every shadow into something alive. Leaves rustled with a sinister cadence, a deliberate rhythm that made her skin prickle. The silence wasn't empty; it was waiting, watching. Then came the sound, a heavy, grinding rustle that fractured the quiet like thunder rolling through a claustrophobic tunnel. Something was moving, something vast and unnatural. Each step hammered the earth beneath her feet, shaking loose a fine dust that smelled of iron and decay.
She spun around, eyes wide and searching, heart thrumming with a wild, primal fear. From the mist, two fiery orbs materialized, eyes glowing with an infernal intensity that pierced the gloom like molten lava searing through frozen stone. The thing that emerged was no mere beast but a twisted abomination. Its head was serpentine, elongated and sinuous, crowned with rows of jagged, dragon-like teeth that gleamed sharply even in the dim light. The split tongue lashed out repeatedly, tasting the air with unnatural precision, each flick a whisper of menace. The creature's mouth hung open in a guttural roar, a sound that rippled through the trees and seemed to make the very ground quiver in fear.
Its body was a nightmare made flesh, long, coiling like a colossal wyrm, each scale a shard of dark, metallic armor that shimmered faintly with an oily sheen. The creature's movements were sinuous yet heavy, a terrifying contradiction that made it seem both fluid and unyielding. But the true horror was the grotesque limb jutting unnaturally from its side, an immense, clawed appendage that looked almost alien in design. Four enormous talons, black as obsidian and curved like scythes, scraped against the forest floor, tearing into the earth with a sound like grinding glass. This monstrous claw flexed with a terrible intelligence, poised to strike with deadly intent, moving independently yet perfectly synchronized with the beast's serpentine body.
Elowen's breath caught in her throat, her body frozen by the overwhelming presence of Vermalokk. Legend whispered of such a creature, a child of divine wrath cast into the eternal storm beneath the mountains, fed by thunder and the tormented screams of the damned. It was said to hunger for divine blood, an ancient predator born of betrayal and celestial fury. The claw was a cruel remnant of its once-godly origin, a twisted symbol of what had been lost and corrupted over eons.
Her voice came out brittle and small. "Stay back…"
The beast answered with a thunderous roar, lashing out in a blur of scales and talons. Elowen stumbled, adrenaline surging through her veins as she fled blindly into the choking mist. Branches tore at her skin, their scratches sharp and biting, but the forest was no sanctuary, only a labyrinth of danger and despair. The ground beneath her seemed to writhe as Vermalokk pursued, a dark shadow swallowing the fading light. The sickening sound of earth being clawed apart echoed relentlessly behind her, each step a countdown to annihilation.
Her foot caught on a gnarled root. The world tipped sideways. She fell hard, the book slipping from her grasp, and pain bloomed across her knees and palms. When she dared to look up, the nightmare hovered over her, massive, merciless, eternal. Vermalokk's maw stretched wide, fangs dripping venom that hissed as it touched the mossy stones, the fiery glow of its eyes burning with hellish hunger. The monstrous claw lifted, ready to crush, to rend, to end.
Then the voice came, cold and cutting like a razor's edge slicing through a scream.
"Pathetic thing. You can't even kill a girl?"
The roar died as a figure stepped from the swirling fog, a man cloaked in darkness, his movements effortless and deliberate. His silver eyes burned like twin stars...cold, unblinking, and infinitely ancient. There was no panic in his step, only a weary amusement, as though this terrifying dance was an old routine long past novelty.
The beast lunged at him, but the man moved like smoke in the wind, effortless and precise. He sidestepped the blow, black lightning crackling along his arm, then lashed out. The energy coiled into a spiral and snapped forward, binding Vermalokk's limbs. With a flick, he hurled the monster through a crumbling boulder. Dust billowed, but the man was already gone from where he'd stood.
As the beast rose, snarling, the man summoned a crimson glyph midair. It pulsed once, then collapsed, forming a crushing sphere of gravity that yanked Vermalokk to the ground. In the blink of an eye, the man appeared behind him and slammed a heel into its back with a thunderous crack, flattening the earth beneath them. The tail whipped toward him, missed. He was already airborne, conjuring a spear of obsidian energy. It gleamed like a fang before he drove it down, shattering on impact. The shards buried deep, each one erupting inside the beast. Vermalokk screamed.
The man landed softly and muttered, "You're slower than your legend." He straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his gloves as if the whole encounter were a minor inconvenience.
He turned to Elowen, his sharp gaze locking onto her. "You're not from here," he said flatly, his voice carrying the weight of certainty. "And yet… you carry that book." His gaze flicked to the object she clutched so tightly.
Elowen, breath ragged and limbs trembling, forced herself up. "W-Who are you? What was that thing? Where am I?"
The corner of his mouth curved—not into a smile, but something colder, sharper. "Questions already. You've barely survived your first encounter, and you think answers will save you?" He stepped closer, his silver eyes piercing. "This forest doesn't care who you are. It only cares how long you last."
Her hands trembled, though she tightened her grip on the book. "Then tell me why I'm here! This...this book says I need to find nine keys to save my father. Do you know what that means?"
At that, something flickered across his face. He tilted his head, studying her. "Nine keys…" he repeated, voice low. "So, it begins again."
Elowen's breath caught. "What begins?"
He looked out into the mist, then he turned back, his presence suddenly suffocating. "Listen well, girl. You're trapped. There is no path out of this forest for ordinary mortals. If you want to leave, if you want to survive… you'll need those keys. But they won't come easily. And you won't like what you'll find once you gather them."
She swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the book as questions churned in her mind. "Why did you save me?"
The man's eyes flickered, something fleeting and unspoken passing through their cold depths. Then he smiled, if such a thing could be called a smile, a thin, cruel curve. "Because the forest would be boring without you."
And with that, he turned, walking into the mist as though he expected her to follow. Elowen stood there trembling, heart pounding, staring at the fading outline of the man who had crushed a monster with his bare hands. Everything inside her screamed not to trust him, that he was dangerous, unnatural. And yet, if what he said was true, he was the only one who could guide her out of this cursed place. Her gaze dropped to the book, the words etched forever in her mind. 'Find nine keys to save your father.'
She took a shaky breath and stepped after him.
"Be careful what you chase," his voice floated back through the fog, low and almost amused.