Episode 8: The Forest of a Thousand Temptations

That very night the traveller broke out in cold sweat. He tossed and turned amidst the dead leaves and branches. Having no sense of time or how long it was before dawn came, he shut his eyes to try to force some manner of rest upon himself. He eagerly waited for sunrise but the more he lied awake, the more convinced he became that dawn would never come. His attempts to sleep were marred by a melody in the distance.. no it was an elegy, sad and yet inviting. Reasoning that he eventually had nothing to lose, he decided to get up and ascertain its source.

Knowing fully well the existence of unknown dangers, he slung Rhema right beside him as he treaded along the forest floor. With each step, Rhema seemed to grow heavier and he had no inkling of whether it was some manner of force exerted by the transcendent blade itself or whether it was by virtue of his growing tiredness and weariness, amplified by the hot and heavy mist that descended amongst the very canopy of withered green. The mist seemed to have flung itself at him and played with him and caressed him as a vulture would his carrion. Clarity and soundness eluded him and the only certain thing he became aware of was the frightful elegy in the far distace, an elegy that was gilded with an intoxicating sense of lure. It sang of pleasures that lay once man was free of better judgment. It sang of surrender to man's primordial fears and insticts and the lusts thereof. It called the enchanted to touch the hidden bait through transgressing.. or rather, transcending sound conscience... a delightfully whitewashed fantasy.

The grip of the mist upon the traveller was strengthened as he moved in agreement with each step and the next towards the unearthly sound. The deeper he went, the darker it became. By now, he was so deep in the forest that not even the stars with their sad eyes could peer through the thickness of the canopy, nor would they desire to behold the unfolding scene beneath them. The trees that towered over the traveller stood as proud, resolute sentinels. Each one seemed to watch him, ready to bar every attempt of escape. Each one seemed to remind him in dark, ominous tones that he was their prisoner. The thicker the mist became, the more gruesome he perceived their eerie smiling faces beneath the shadows. Clawed branches lingered over him, twisted roots slithered beneath him. Yet each step seemed nauseatingly sweeter than the last.

He came to the very heart of the present darkness. A faint light shone ahead of him and he drew nearer. It was unlike any manner of light he had seen in Aletheia. It was a dingy kind of light. It was a light void of life. It was a light that drew every breath and movement from the traveller, leaving just enough for him to be awake but certainly not alert. And that very same light took a form and presently, he came to behold a strikingly beautiful girl- the source of the elegy. Her hair was as black as a velvet whip. Her lips exuded a faint smile of dead vermillion, painted against her frosted ivory face. Her cold and piercing eyes ran straight through him, carrying an otherworldly deepness in the black centre. Yet to the traveller, her beauty was only superceded by the billowing tides of her desire.

She flung herself deeper into the forest, the traveller swiftly behind her. Clearly something so valuable was worth its pursuit. Though she treaded away from him, the call of her voice and luminescent glow seemed to beckon him to follow. Her enchanted song echoed deeper into his soul as it did deeper into the forest. By now it was hard to tell whether it was day or night due to the denseness of the darkness. He pursued her through the labyrinth of wood, every step seemingly eluding the course of time. And after what seemed like days or a mere moment, she stopped.

There stood a lone well in the midst of a perculiarly-placed clearing. Yet even there, the sky still eluded the canopy and both strangers were swallowed in darkness. She sat by the well, her eyes transfixed on the traveler. She smiled, wetting her lips with her tongue. With a glint of murder in her eyes, she beckoned him to come. The traveller marched. She began to pace about him, eyeing him with provocative intent. The traveller, oblivious to her deeper nature, met her eyes in constancy with a deep sense of longing.. Her pace quickened, furnished with a series of twists and beckoning gestures and contortions. It was a dance. Yet it was not merely targeted at him. It seemed to call upon some manner of higher power, a company of unseen beings who were to be guests at the unfolding gathering. The dance escalated in pace until the lady picked up a ceremonial vessel... a pail of sorts. She danced about with it until her movements climaxed to a sudden drop of the vessel into the well. At this the traveller stared deep into the chasm. He thought he heard a muffled groan. He could see no bottom, neither did the light or lack thereof permitted him to.

Then her lips began to move. She began to chant a series of sounds, neither lawful to be heard nor spoken. And all at once, the vessel arose from the deep without being drawn. Within it were waters that smelled of a deathly ale. Just about dead to his senses, the traveller willingly received it from the lady. She continued with her elegy...

"Drrrriiink..." she said, in a low melodious voice. The traveller placed the edge of the vessel by his lips. And then-

"AAAHHHHHCHOOOOO!!!"

For a moment the traveller snapped out of his enchantment. Immediately, he dropped the vessel, the vile liquid upon the ground.

"Ouch!" declared a voice.

Stunned by the series of exclamations, the traveller instinctively drew Rhema out of its sheath... The sound it made against its scabbard induced a greater sense of alertness in him. Its silver blade released some true manner of light into the heart of the darkness. The lady snarled. Now at the very least illumiated by its light, the sword revealed the true manner of the lady- beyond her whitewashed facade stood a thousand-year complexion, her skin shriveled up as fallen summer figs. And she had a face to match, that would make any flower wilt upon its acquaintance. Having her enchantment momentarily interrupted, her rage found a channel through her lips...

She began uttering a series of syllables again, in some manner of ancient wildly wicked form of language... Neither moved. Both stood in confrontation. At this, the traveller became aware of another dimension.. the glow of the sword lifted a cosmic veil and illuminated what once eluded his eyes. He was surrounded by a multitude of disembodied beings, dwelling in another realm. Their breath smelled of wickedness, their movement, of blood. And he knew that they had come for him.

Her chanting grew louder. Yet the spirits made no move. He then became aware of a tiny pair of rounded objects approaching him from the distance. The pair glowed ominously with a terrific yellow sting. And then more came... in pairs.. whatever they were, they were surely not good. And they came closer. And they came by the droves. And they became clearer... until their true nature was revealed. Each pair was a pair of eyes.. attached to a living elongated mass, which some cultures would call a snake. The traveller's frenzied thoughts were broken temporarily... not that he knew what to do anyway.

"Help" a shout. The traveller surveyed the ground

"HELP!" cried the bucket. The traveller peered into it.

"Well don't just stand there!" "RRRRUUUUNNNN!!!"