An Audience

Nathanos ran through the forest, his steps steady and swift. Dusk had passed, but the moon had yet to emerge from the dark clouds. The cold light of day shrouded everything beneath a black curtain. Every breath the boy exhaled condensed into white mist.

There was no path to follow here. This untraveled woodland lay in the mountains on the outskirts of Stratholme. Ferns and vines concealed rotten logs and tangled roots, yet compared to the places he knew, this unfamiliarity instead gave him a sense of belonging. Strangely, the difficult terrain did not slow him down in the slightest. Though he was moving quickly, where exactly was he going?

A glimmer of light flashed ahead. Nathanos immediately dropped beneath the bushes and remained perfectly still. His black eyes did not blink, his piercing gaze taking in everything.

For the span of ten breaths, he did not move at all, impossible to make out amid the bushes. Then he spotted movement again and immediately grew alert... only to discover it was a young deer. It was just a little one, its antlers only beginning to take shape.

If he had a bow, this deer would have been prey.

Over the past few weeks, Nathanos had practiced archery countless times. He had gone from clumsy beginnings to steadily improving his accuracy, then his range. Whenever he thought of putting his efforts to use in practice, excitement always stirred within him.

But there was still one problem left unresolved. Where exactly was he? Or rather, why had he appeared in this place? All he knew was that he needed to run forward, and his mind seemed to work the same way.

Perhaps the answer lay ahead!

He gave the beautiful deer one more look, then rose to his feet. The young deer saw him now, yet did not panic or flee.

"Hello... little fawn!" he said, giving it a slight nod.

The road ahead seemed endless. The moon finally climbed above the mountaintops, its pale light filtering through the forest canopy and casting mottled spots across the ground. The wind shifted, bringing with it a strange scent that did not belong in the forest.

Blood!

"What... happened... up ahead?" he whispered. Nathanos did not stop. He immediately ran toward the scent.

A moment later, he reached one of the rare clearings in the forest, where the scene before him was laid bare. A battle seemed to have taken place here. All sorts of bizarre weapons lay scattered over the grass, divided by stones. The boy's expression turned grave.

Nathanos carefully circled the scene. He knew someone might still be hiding nearby, so he first had to make sure the area was safe before approaching to inspect it.

He felt himself all over and was surprised to discover that he had no weapon at all. Fortunately, the things scattered on the ground solved that problem. He picked up the nearest and most familiar one: a bow, with an arrow already nocked on the string. It was a finely crafted weapon. Though it did not quite fit his hand, it gave him a sense of security.

After waiting for a while, he frowned. There was no ambush nearby, which was good. However, he found something on the ground that he had seen described in books: a creature people despised and hated—a troll.

The boy hastily backed away a step or two. The books said trolls were evil creatures that ate people. Green skin, broken teeth scattered on the ground, strange limbs... there was no doubt that this was a troll. Nathanos wanted to leave, but his legs would not move. In truth, he wanted to get closer and see what a troll actually looked like.

So he stepped forward, staring fixedly at the corpse on the ground with his bow raised.

The troll lay in a pool of blood. Every time Nathanos breathed, he felt his stomach churn.

At last, he reached the corpse. The forest was not cold at night, but his hands and legs trembled violently. The troll's body had its back to him...

Turn him over!

The voice in his head told him. Normally, Nathanos would have refused such a demand. But now, he knew that every word the voice spoke benefited him. So, despite his unease, he chose to obey.

The process was far easier than he had imagined. He merely touched the troll's cold shoulder, and the thing lying on the ground rolled over to face him.

In that instant, the boy nearly let out a terrified scream. The troll's mouth was smeared with blood—blood coming from within its mouth. Nathanos immediately thought of what the books said about trolls—eaters of men!

Countless frightened words gathered in his throat, only to become a sob. But soon, Nathanos no longer even had the strength to make a sound. The troll's eyes suddenly flew open. The boy's thoughts stopped. He forgot where he was, what he was supposed to do next, even his own name, from the moment he saw the troll come back to life.

"Var'tolkla."

Several muffled syllables burst from the troll's blood-flecked mouth. In such circumstances, Belorell could think of nothing but retreating.

He had only backed away one or two steps when the troll suddenly lunged at him with all its strength. Only then did Nathanos realize how foolish he had been. He did not understand trolls at all. When its three-fingered hand clamped around his throat, the suffocating pressure felt as though it would drag him from this world at any moment.

He could not breathe, he was about to—

His throat was clogged with saliva and foam. It was going to bleed.

Run.

Where was home? This way? He had to get out of here, no matter where he ran. He had to—

At that moment, all Nathanos's thoughts forced him into a single action—his legs kicked out fiercely... Fresh air, carrying the damp fragrance of earth, rushed into his lungs. He had succeeded. He felt whatever had been pressing down on him fly away... Then he sat up and gasped for breath, confused and troubled by everything before him.

The cabin was simple, but built with care. Embers still glowed in the heating stove. The scorched hardwood table held no decorations, only a large pile of documents and a simple woodworking tool. The curtains were handwoven. Nathanos pulled them aside and saw a light rain falling outside.

"Another dream!" The boy covered his forehead, lost in confusion. Only when his entire body shivered from the cold draft at his back did he notice the blanket he had kicked onto the floor.

On the side of the thick oak doorframe, Nathanos found tiny scratches. Memories of just now resurfaced. The troll on the ground had lunged at him, and he had been unable to resist at all. How weak he was was plain to see.

After a long while, the boy finally shook off the fear the nightmare had brought him. The candle on the table still had half its length left. That was good.

Tonight, no matter what, he would not be able to sleep.