☠ Crown of Shadows ☠ (#Wattys2018)

Chapter 3: The Dark Forest

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The sun peeked through the thick canopy of leaves above Nox's head as he rode through the Dark Forest, his pack by his side. He could hear their breathing echo around him. It had become a familiar sound that kept him grounded and assured. The other Heirs and their sentries were only a few feet behind, keeping their watchful distance. He took in a deep breath, observing the rays of bright light that guided his path forward.

     The forest reached far and wide to his either side. As soon as they had passed the Lycan Royal castle several hours ago, an array of different trees had decorated the horizon. As he looked around him now, it was difficult to distinguish between the road and the treacherous paths that led to inevitable death. Only Nox' familiarity with the evergreen pines and spruces they passed kept them from losing track and disappearing into the shadows that followed them left and right.

     As a child, he had spent many hours inside these woods together with his father. He had learned everything he knew here. If he looked closely, he could still see the marks of steel and claw on the bark of the trees where he had trained. Marks that showed his progressing skill as they went farther into the forest––ever closer to the Wastelands behind it. Every lesson his father had given him was still etched in his memory. Being here now after his death, even though it had already been so many years ago, still hurt more than Nox wanted to admit.

     He was still lost in thought as he continued his way towards the tomb of the Dark King. He had only been that far North once, together with his father, on that one, dreadful night. Their pride and temper had led them all the way through the Dark Forest and into the Wastelands after a group of ghouls had attacked one of the villages in the Lycan Territory and had killed every man, woman, and child inside. Retribution had been on their minds when they had walked into those wasted fields, shadows caressing their skin with each step deeper into the claws of darkness.

     His father hadn't returned home after that night. He was killed by the creatures living in the Wastelands in an act to protect his son from that same fate. It had left Nox haunted with guilt. The memories of his father––despite everything that had come before then––were still tainted with blood and death. As he rode closer and closer to that damned place now, the images slowly faded. Yet, the pain still remained.

     The further they moved into the large forest, the thicker the shadows became. Nox could feel the tension slowly rising with it. His pack had never set foot in the Dark Forest before. The pressing darkness that continued to grow, had them all on edge. Especially after everything their Matriarch had told them. Marrok, Nox' second in command, gripped the reins of his horse tighter, while Namira, his third, swallowed hard. Rhys, Zev, and Karra behind them shifted nervously in their saddles, turning their heads toward every sound.

     Nox couldn't blame them. He had felt the same way after hearing the Dark King had awoken and the Undead had risen with him. That his grandfather was willing to send him into the Wastelands after what had happened all those years ago, told Nox more about the threat the Dark King possed than any words ever could. Still, his grandfather had told him everything about Aemon and the House of Cerin that was known. It didn't give him much to go on, but it confirmed the dangers that awaited them in this mission and how little time they had to complete it.

     That was why Nox had only allowed them one moment of rest since they had left the neutral ground of the old castle that housed the Council of Elders. Even then it had only been a few hours. Hours in which Nox could hear the wolves living in these woods howl about the dangers that lurked up ahead.

     The other Heirs had complained about it. About the short rest and the feral eyes watching them whilst they slept. But he had ignored them all. One of their Houses was the cause of all of this. The cause of the fear that spread amongst them like wildfire as they moved closer to the tomb––of the wolves retreating into their layers, warning him to do the same. One of them had activated the Dark King's spell by harming a human. Something that was against the rules their ancestors had made centuries ago to prevent the Undead from rising again. Until now, he still had no idea which one of them could be so foolish––which one of them he could trust even less than the others.