Deep within the untamed forest, tall trees stretched toward the sky, their branches swaying with a distinct rustle. Leaves drifted down from their twigs, carried by the wind as if dancing through the air.
Green foliage slowly turned golden, a quiet signal that the sun was beginning to set. Warm light filtered through the gaps between the branches, casting a soft glow across the woods. Yet, a cold wind from the north brought a chilling contrast—its icy touch biting against the skin like needles.
A lone adventurer, a young man, staggered through the forest. His right hand was wounded, hinting he had just survived something dangerous.
Dragging a heavy iron sword in his left hand, his steps were sluggish—each one a struggle. His strength was nearly gone.
A white jacket clung loosely to his shoulders, its green fabric draped more like a burden than clothing. Instead of being worn properly, it hung limply, exposing the front of his outfit—now torn, dirtied, and stained.
His pale green tunic, once neat, was smeared with blood and mud. A crimson line ran down it, suggesting pain with every breath he took.
His legs trembled violently, as if ready to give way at any moment.
And then they did.
He collapsed, slumping at the base of a tree.
Exhaustion seeped through his entire body, leaving him motionless. Slowly, he laid his silver sword down beside him, and clutched his injured arm.
The wound was severe—deep gashes like claw marks, stretching from shoulder to wrist. Fresh blood seeped through the white cloth he had used to wrap it, forming dark red stains that stood out starkly.
His face tensed, trying to hold back the overwhelming pain. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes flickered with a hopeless, distant look.
He didn't expect help. He was far from any town or settlement—deep in the heart of nowhere.
There was nothing he could do now.Only wait for death… or hope for a miracle.
He exhaled deeply, letting the breath escape slowly as he tried to calm his frantic heartbeat. His eyes gently closed, allowing the silence of the forest to take over.
The atmosphere around him felt peaceful—almost deceptively so. Birds chirped gently overhead, singing their last melody before nightfall. In the distance, a faint trickle of water could be heard—perhaps a stream hidden behind the thick brush.
The longer his eyes remained shut, the further his mind drifted.
Darkness.
Everything faded into pitch black. No light. No shape.
His body felt weightless, as if he was floating in an empty void. The sounds of the forest, the song of the birds—all disappeared, replaced by a haunting silence.
Was this the space between life and death?
Fear gripped the adventurer's heart.
"Mother… Father..."
He thought of them. He feared never seeing them again. If this was death, he wanted his final thoughts to be of their warmth.
Fear—fear—fear.
He was afraid his story would end here.
Breathing became harder, as if he was drowning in a dark, freezing sea.
Clinging to the tiniest thread of life, whatever awareness remained in him began to pray.
"Please… someone… help me. Please—I don't want to die here…"
Even his inner voice sounded weak.
"…'Magistre'… no... God, please don't let me die yet. Help me—"
...
.....
Silence. Nothing happened.
His thoughts floated in limbo. His soul unsure—was it still alive, or had it already passed?
Within that thick darkness, he began to see a light. A faint glow, slowly reaching toward him, as if to pull him out from the abyss.
His thoughts stirred. His will ignited.
No—I don't want to die here.
With the last shred of awareness, he clawed his way toward the light—reaching, crawling, desperate to escape the dark.