The silence shattered.
A shriek ripped through the forest, sharp and unnatural like steel grating against bone, stretched into a scream. The trees quivered. The air turned sour.
Then they came.
Shapes burst from the fog. Gaunt, misshapen things with too many joints and faces half-formed, as if carved in mockery of humanity. Their eyes burned like candleflames in wet skulls. Their mouths opened wide too wide pouring out more of those horrific sounds.
He turned and ran.
Roots snagged at his feet. Branches clawed his face. Every step was a struggle through mist and rot, heart pounding like a drum in a drowning chest.
One of them lunged from the dark.
He twisted. Fell.
It was on him in a blink.
He threw up his hand, not in defense, but in sheer blind terror.
The world folded.
There was no light. No flash or fire. Just a soundless collapse, like the universe drawing in a breath anf then a violent burst outward.
The creature was thrown back as if hurled by a giant's hand. Its limbs cracked against a tree, spine bent backward until it snapped with a clean, wet sound.
The boy stared in disbelief.
Another monster came at him claws wide, teeth bared.
He flinched, ducked, reached out without thought.
The ground warped.
Gravity pulsed like a living force. The creature was ripped sideways, crashing through the underbrush and into the stone of an ancient root, bones breaking on impact.
He was shaking now. From fear. From pain. From power.
He didn't understand what he was doing only that something inside him was responding to the threat. Like a second heartbeat beneath the skin.
Another shriek. Closer.
Too close.
He turned, too slow another lunging figure, all sinew and claw.
A flash of silver. A burst of motion.
The creature was split in two, falling in twitching halves to the moss.
A man stepped into view.
He wore polished plate armor that gleamed even in the dying light of the forest. A long red cape hung from his shoulders, torn slightly at the edges, but regal nonetheless. His blonde hair fell past his shoulders in uneven waves, streaked through with vivid lines of crimson that caught the air as he moved.
His face was unscarred youthful but battle worn, sharp-featured, with intense golden eyes that flicked to the boy without fear.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, already scanning the woods.
The boy opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came.
More creatures howled in the distance.
The man stepped forward, sword gleaming. Another beast leapt from the underbrush.
In a single motion, the paladin pivoted and cleaved it in half. The corpse hit the ground in steaming pieces.
"Lucky I was nearby," he said calmly. "Heard the screams. Thought someone might be dying."
The boy coughed, still breathless. "I… almost was."
"Not today," the man replied.
The boy looked at him this stranger who fought like flame, who stood tall against horrors that had made him run. His hair looked like fire in the dim haze, golden strands laced with red.
"What's your name?" the boy asked.
The paladin gave a small smile and extended a hand.
"Kael," he said. "Knight of the Crimson Path."
The boy stared at the hand. Then slowly, he reached out and grasped it. Kael pulled him to his feet with surprising ease.
"And you are?"
"I… I don't remember."
Kael's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes pity, or curiosity, perhaps both.
"Well," Kael said, releasing his grip, "you're breathing, and that means you're mine now. Can't leave a memoryless stranger to get torn apart by forest spawn. Come on."
He turned and began walking toward the deeper woods, the sword still in hand.
The boy hesitated. Then followed.
Behind them, the corpses of the monsters twitched, sank, and crumbled into black dust. The forest swallowed them again, as if they had never existed.
And above where no eyes could see something vast and ancient shifted behind the clouded sky.