That night, the skies above Domeralith were veiled in dim stars, their glow muted by a thin mist. Bonfires burned outside the city walls, where young knights and veterans alike gathered before departure.
Aquilla sat alone near his tent, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword awkwardly.
Did I make the right decision? Joining the observation squad isn't something trivial. Abythralis… that forest is infamous for swallowing knights who never return. Then why… why am I so drawn to the shadow of that tower?
He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the towering silhouette he had glimpsed from afar. Dark, looming, and yet—it felt as if it were calling to him.
"Aquilla."
He turned. Zenorius, the black-haired man leading the squad, stood tall in his deep-blue knight's mantle.
"Prepare yourself. We'll be holding our final meeting tonight."
Aquilla nodded quickly. "Yes, Sir Zenorius."
They walked together toward the large central tent. Inside, several knights were already seated in a circle, their faces lit by the warm glow of oil lamps.
Zenorius scanned each of them in silence before he spoke. "Tomorrow morning, we march into Abythralis. Our goal is simple: observation. No fighting, no conquest. We'll be recording the forest's conditions—the wind, the animals, and any unusual signs that may point toward that tower."
A veteran knight raised his hand. "Sir Zenorius, is that tower even real? Some say it's nothing more than a mirage."
Zenorius shook his head. "I've seen its silhouette myself. It's real. But we won't act recklessly. Remember—our task is observation only."
Aquilla's chest pounded hard.
Real… so the tower really exists. I wasn't imagining it. Then why… why am I so restless?
A young knight beside him whispered, "You look pale. Nervous?"
Aquilla swallowed. "N-no… just a little tense."
Another chuckled softly. "Of course you are. Tomorrow we step into a forest even the bravest hunters refuse to enter."
Zenorius raised his hand, silencing them. His voice carried the weight of command. "One more thing. Abythralis is not merely a dangerous forest. It is a place where the local gods test our faith. Never forget your prayers. Every step, every breath—walk with conviction."
A female knight bowed her head reverently. "May the blessings of the Goddess be with us."
The others followed, joining their hands. "May the blessings be with us."
Aquilla lowered his head as well, though unease lingered in his chest.
I believe in the Goddess… but if the tower truly exists, is it also the work of the gods? Or something beyond even them?
Zenorius unfurled a worn map across the table. "We'll enter Abythralis from the northern route. It's the only path we can safely take. Our first stop will be the black river's edge for observation. Remember—no one moves alone."
A young knight spoke up nervously. "Will we really be able to see the tower from inside the forest?"
Zenorius's eyes sharpened. "If fortune favors us, yes. But if the fog is thick, do not force it. Our mission is not to die foolishly, but to return with a report."
Aquilla clenched his knees.
A report… right. But if I could just see the tower, even a little closer… I need to know what secrets it hides.
Zenorius rolled up the map. "That's all. Return to your tents and rest. We'll need full strength tomorrow."
One by one, the knights rose, offering him respectful salutes before leaving.
Aquilla's steps were heavy, his head clouded with thoughts.
"Oi, Aquilla."
He turned. A senior knight with brown hair and a scar across his cheek patted his shoulder. "Don't think too much. Just follow orders. You'll be fine."
Aquilla forced a stiff smile. "Thank you for the advice."
The man chuckled and walked off.
Left alone, Aquilla returned to his tent. The bonfire still burned brightly, its orange-red glow casting fleeting shadows across his face. He sat down, eyes fixed on the night sky.
Tomorrow… I'll see it. The tower. That black silhouette piercing the heavens. Was it truly built by the gods? Or is it something even they cannot explain?
He closed his eyes, listening to the murmured prayers of knights still awake.
"May the blessings of the Goddess be with us…"
The words echoed like a mantra, soothing and steady.
But deep within, Aquilla felt something different. Not merely prayer—but a calling. A whisper from the darkness of Abythralis. From that tower's shadow.
Whatever awaits me tomorrow… I have to see it with my own eyes.
And so the night passed quietly, as Abythralis loomed in silence, waiting with its endless secrets.
That morning, a faint mist still clung to the air as the knights under Zenorius's command gathered outside the fortress gates of Domeralith. Their formation was flawless, shields and blades gleaming as they caught the newborn light of dawn.
At the front stood Zenorius. His helm rested in his left hand, his dark hair catching the wind. His expression was grave, eyes fixed on the dark forest looming ahead—Abythralis.
"Listen carefully," his voice cut through the morning air. "From this point on, we are not playing at war. Our mission is simple: enter, confirm the tower's existence with our own eyes, sketch its form, and return alive. Minimize combat whenever possible."
The knights bowed their heads, their voices sharp and unified.
"Yes, Commander!"
Zenorius's gaze flicked toward the back row, where a younger knight stood tense.
"Aquilla."
Aquilla stiffened and snapped to attention.
"Yes, Commander!"
Zenorius's eyes bore into him.
"You are still young, but today you have the chance to prove yourself. Remember this—your life comes first. Do not act recklessly."
Aquilla gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, forcing his nerves to steady.
"Understood, Commander. I won't forget."
Zenorius gave a single nod.
"Good. Then let's begin."
The column moved forward, slipping into the shadow of Abythralis. The moment they crossed the treeline, the air thickened, heavy and oppressive. Sunlight struggled to pierce the vast canopy, while a faint black haze crept like smoke between the roots and trunks.
One knight muttered under his breath, "The miasma is already here… masks on."
Aquilla quickly wrapped his face with the protective cloth, his eyes darting warily across the warped landscape. The towering trees rose like endless pillars, their bark blackened, some oozing with foul, sticky sap that reeked of rot.
So this is it… the forest that terrifies everyone in Domeralith… Abythralis.
Zenorius suddenly raised his hand.
"Silence."
The knights froze. Only the whisper of wind filled the stillness. Then—soft voices drifted at the edge of Aquilla's hearing.
"…leave… death awaits… come deeper…"
Aquilla swallowed hard, cold sweat trickling down his back.
Whose voice…? No, that can't be human…
A knight beside him hissed, "Miasma illusions. Ignore them."
Zenorius's voice snapped like a whip.
"Focus! Do not let the miasma claim your mind. They are lies, nothing more."
"Yes, Commander!" the group responded in unison.
They pressed on.
Hours later, the silence shattered with a guttural roar. From the underbrush burst a massive wolf-like beast, its body twisted with thorns and bark.
"Contact!" a knight cried.
Zenorius's blade flashed free.
"Defensive formation! Don't waste time—we only need to disable it."
The monster lunged. Shields locked into place, intercepting its claws in a clash of steel and sparks.
Aquilla charged forward, sword gripped tight.
"Haaah!"
His blade slashed across the creature's foreleg, drawing a spray of black blood.
The beast howled in pain, staggering. In that instant, Zenorius surged in, his sword cleaving through the monster's throat with a single, decisive strike. The severed head rolled, and the hulking body collapsed into the earth.
Zenorius lowered his blade, dark ichor dripping.
"Move. Don't stop."
Aquilla panted, chest heaving.
He's… so fast… But I still landed a blow. I wasn't useless. I… I belong here.
The deeper they marched, the heavier the air grew. The whispers thickened into a chorus—crying, laughter, voices of loved ones long gone.
One knight suddenly turned, his eyes wide.
"Brother…? Is that you?"
Zenorius seized him by the collar and yanked him back.
"Do not look! It's the miasma!"
The knight paled, shaking his head rapidly.
"M-My apologies, Commander…"
Aquilla clenched his fists.
If I hadn't been warned, I might have followed those voices too…
Step by step, they trudged through the endless gloom—until at last, something pierced the veil of trees.
"Commander!" a knight shouted, pointing ahead.
"There—!"
Aquilla's breath caught as he looked up.
The tower… It's real…
Through the mist, a colossal silhouette rose, impossibly vast. A black spire clawing into the heavens, its peak lost in a shroud of gray clouds. It radiated an alien terror that words could never hold.
Zenorius raised his hand.
"Hold position. Do not advance further. Record it now!"
One knight scrambled to open his journal, sketching with trembling hands.
Aquilla's throat was dry.
It's calling me… Why do I feel this urge to step closer? No… I can't. The Commander said survival comes first…
Zenorius's eyes swept the group.
"Engrave this into your memories. Once the sketch is complete, we retreat immediately."
"F-Finished, Commander!" the knight reported.
"Good. Prepare to withdraw—"
A sudden crack split the air, the ground trembling beneath their boots.
Zenorius's command thundered.
"Battle formation! Something approaches!"
Aquilla drew his blade, heart pounding.
This forest… it won't let us leave so easily, will it…?