Forly mounted Trigger. He took a deep breath. He exhaled. He cleared his mind and set a target before him.
"Let's go."
"Are you sure, Forly?"
"I am. I am... I am!"
Trigger neighed and took off in a flash. Dust rose into the air with every second. The rhythmic sound of the horse's hooves blended, creating a sonic composition that mixed harmoniously with the wind, the stars.
A mist covered the path; the stars filled the blackness of the sky with beauty; the Moon brought light to the travelers who roamed every corner of that great, water-surrounded island.
Every step, every heartbeat, every feeling mixed in Forly's body, spirit, and soul. Nothing more could make him turn back. He left his home and finally felt he had left his parents—his real ones—behind. He moved forward. Nothing held him to the past anymore, to the chains of his sins, to the mistakes he suffered from the actions of others.
The icy breeze carried a scent of spice, cast freely into the air.
Forly could recall every moment that had brought him here, and with each passing minute, each hour, he drew closer and closer to the forest.
The wind grew stronger. The darkness obscured his vision.
And closer to the forest he was.
The trees now covered the horizon of his sight. The sky was waking. The Sun showed signs of appearing, of rising, forming a small purple line that slowly turned to red.
The forest loomed even larger, imposing, and closer.
The red transformed into orange, and gold filled the sky with unparalleled beauty.
And finally, they reached the forest. Forly dismounted Trigger.
The Sun was rising, and they would have to leave the beauty of its light behind in a few minutes. A difficult task, you must admit.
A deep breath—do horses take deep breaths? Because that's what it seemed like to Forly. He didn't know much about the forest, even with the memories. But Trigger... had a much deeper history with that place...
"Father. Mother. Today I have returned here... this forest that killed you. But this time, with someone very brave. My friend. He came with me, and I with him, and only because of him. I didn't know if I could do this. But here I am. Wish me luck from wherever you are," Triggerheart said softly to himself. It was one of the most frightening days for them—they were going to face their demons.
Forly turned back, looked at the sky, and then turned to Trigger and said:
"Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"
A dark canopy perpetuated over their heads; the leaves of the tall, leafy trees mixed with thick, well-spread branches, forming a roof that allowed almost no light to pass through.
They were in complete darkness, with no idea where to go. All they had was Trigger's faulty memory.
They continued in what seemed to be forward.
Where they stepped, there seemed to be sharp branches; beetles, praying mantises, and crickets began to climb on them; strange sounds perpetuated along the path.
Slowly, as they delved deeper, circling trees, jumping over bushes, on a path without a trail, a silence took over and life seemed to be nonexistent. The light behind them dissipated.
The dark, black mass, absent of light, ahead was pure fog. Their minds felt more tired than they should.
And the light, with each step, faded away, until finally, it was gone, and black was their only vision.
And they moved forward.
...After some time, they began to hear each other's heartbeats. And for Forly, it was even worse... you see, try to imagine how frightening the rhythmic heartbeats of a large horse like Trigger were.
Sometimes it seemed that Forly tried to speak and gave up. Trigger too. But they both pretended not to say anything. And so they continued for a few hours.
Thus, they reached a trail—though they noticed neither the path nor where they were going, although Trigger believed he knew where—that led them to the eastern side of the Forest, though there was still no sign of sunlight.
A strange sleepiness began to contaminate their minds, and the ground seemed cleaner and more absent of life, silence, and the trees grew farther and farther apart.
Forly began to stagger.
Trigger seemed to slow his pace.
And they continued heading east.
Forly seemed to be on the verge of fainting. His eyes were half-closed, and his body was slumping as if he were a zombie. Trigger, with his head down, trotted at a dragging and even slower pace.
A strange smell was present in the air, but no one seemed to have the will to do anything about it.
The path widened. The trees moved further apart.
Their heartbeats quickened.
Their bodies stopped.
Their eyes grew tired.
And finally, they fell asleep.
...
...
A distant light. Voices. Unrecognizable sounds. A puff of air. A hiss.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK! CRACK.
The black veil that was his eyelids lowered. The curtain protecting his eyes from waking retracted and revealed ahead...
A bonfire.
Blurry. Distorted. A mental cloth wiped the image clean.
A figure was revealed. A man? A bit of this, a bit of that.
A mage, in dark gray robes covering him from shoulder to foot. His neck was poorly covered by a blue cloth that resembled a scarf. And he wore a black hood that covered almost his entire face. He had a patchy beard as if it had been pulled and twisted, which reached his waist. The mage was sitting on a rotten log, covered in moss, with some ants and beetles.
He seemed to be talking; Forly moved. The old man was startled at that exact moment, alarmed. When he turned, Forly was frightened by his eyes, black, deep, though a light shone at the very end.
"See, Trigger, he's awake."
Forly felt essentially comfortable in a strange environment. A feeling of being at home. "Where am I... and who are you?"
"I am the mage Ingram."
"I am the man Forwin. Good evening."
"Good evening... but, if I may ask."
"What?"
"Do you mean it is a very good night... or that you are glad it is night... or even that it is a good time to be night..."
"All of that at once... I think."
"Well... That pleases me," said the mage, smiling as he lowered his hood, revealing more of his features.
Forly stood up, stretched his back, and when he returned to his spot, he noticed the horse and the mage staring at him.
'Alright... when did I become so trusting of someone so quickly?'
"My young man, if you think I am not trustworthy, as I well know you do, it is in fact very wise of you to ask your faithful four-legged... and hoofed friend."
"He's right... Ingram, could this be the effect of magic?"
"No, it seems to me more like the foolishness of youth..."
"Of course... and that serves him right..."
"Hey, horse! You came with me! So you must be a partner in foolishness as well?"
"He's got you there, Trigger..."
"Stay out of this, mage! This is between him and me."
The mage winked and waved his hands. Forly interrupted everything.
"Forget it, Trigger. Now, tell me, what kind of mage are you?"
"Ah... you worry about disturbing an old man with your obscurities. But if you really want to know, come closer."
Forly sat down next to him. Trigger lay down on the ground and half-closed his eyes. The mage took a deep breath. And exhaled, as if releasing an immense weight from his back.
"Very well, young man. I see the concern in your eyes, and I do not wish to harm you, and even though this may somehow bring up the past, I will tell you only what you need to know about me."
Forly recoiled. He felt somewhat guilty, and at the same time proud for protecting himself and Trigger, although deep down, he knew he couldn't do anything. The mage began to speak, very slowly.
"I am the one who saw when your horse's race came to life. I am the one who, when the subterfuge of evil made itself present in this world, was concerned, though I could do nothing but trust. I was in the war against the Wiccans. I have lived more than one can count on the hands and toes of an entire army. I am old, very old. I have seen more than I wanted to; I have done less than I should have. I arrive on time, if that is worth anything to you, but it does not mean it is your time... only that it is the right time, at the right moment."
Forly laughed internally with a bit of guilt. He remembered a blue-hatted mage from a long-forgotten story. But... a very special one to him. His father had introduced him to it.
The mage seemed about to say something more, but Forly interrupted him.
"No. It's alright. I know what it's like to lose, too..."
Trigger thought one thing, the mage another, and neither resembled the truth.
"Ingram. In any case, we came here seeking help... if the big mouth over there hasn't told you everything first." He glanced at the horse, who was already nearly asleep.
"Actually, Forwin, your friend was too happy to report the news of his own horse life to me that he forgot about that. But, yes, he had mentioned to me that you came for help... Now, come, tell me, it's your turn."
Forly, first, needed to satisfy a curiosity that had only just occurred to him:
"HOW. THE. HELL. DID. I. END. UP. HERE!?"
The horse woke with a neigh. "Shut your mouth, half-wit!"
The mage laughed, waving his hands. "It was magic. Magic placed by my ancestors so that our friends could have peace and security, even if they were the descendants; what is a mystery even to me is from whom one must descend to be a friend..."
"But... if I may say, Ingram, what if the descendant turned against the family?"
"This was done after a dirty war. There was no time for details... but indeed, the council's mistake was to allow this to be the work of such immature apprentices. But the need was such at that moment." He paused, his eyes for a second became the same as before, when Forly woke up.
It was Forly who let out a big sigh. His plan... was his focus now.
"I need magic."
"Calm yourself... Magic?" Ingram laughed sharply, looking down at Forly. "Forwin, I cannot 'lend' you any, as if it were a toy you would later return to me... no... we are talking about dangerous things, although more discreet and that interfere much less in the course of the world's decisions."
"Alright... But Mage, you didn't even let me finish... you're quite hasty for an old man..."
Ingram was taken aback; 'A youth of remarkable reasoning... but it is true that experience hidden in the shadows is not wisdom; it could very well be old foolishness if found to be ostentatious.'
"In any case, Ingram," Forly continued. "It's not something extravagant, nor something that will directly affect anyone."
"I am concerned about your concept of extravagant... you see, your journey here was an extravagance."
"Of course not." Forly believed this.
The mage sighed deeply, concerned. 'Quick reasoning does not mean correct logic... indeed.' Despite noticing the old man's discomfort, Forly continued.
"Mage, listen... I know you're old, but I need something that only you can provide me with safely."
"And what would that be, Forwin of Thatcher."
"I need—"
...
...