My journey began on the little farm where I was born, about twenty miles south of the tower, deep within a dark, damp forest. Most days, the mist lay so thick over the trees that the tower remained hidden, as if the forest itself was trying to forget it existed.
It was already late, and as usual, I was lying in the tall grass, watching the trees sway beneath the darkening sky. Above, the first of the two moons had just crossed the faint ring that remained visible throughout the day.
Then I saw her—my mother, suddenly appearing in the doorway of our hut, rushing toward me with wide eyes.
"Somnius! Somnius, they're back! And it's worse!"
I sat up, my mind struggling to process the words.
"Get up, we have to leave. Now!"
She grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, dragging me toward the hut.
"I already packed everything we need," she said, pressing a rough woolen backpack into my arms. Then she turned again, urgency in her every movement. "Come on!"
By now, I understood what her words meant. Fear twisted in my chest, turning my vision hazy. I tried to focus on the back of her head, to steady myself.
"Are th-they really—?"
"Yes," she interrupted. "They'll be here any moment. We need to hurry."
I pricked up my ears—and then I heard it: the faint pattering of countless small footsteps, and the sickening sound of heavy things being dragged across the earth. From time to time, a low growl cut through the humid air.
A shiver ran down my spine, and every muscle in my body tensed.
"Are we going to the tower?"
"We have to. It's our only chance."
We pushed through the high grass, trees like pale ghosts around us, the sky above a deep violet. Behind us, the rustling and dragging sounds grew ever louder.
I knew we couldn't reach the tower without rest. Sooner or later, we'd have to stop—and when we did, they would catch up.
They'll get us. They'll get us, they'll get us they'll get us they'll get us.
No, no no no. This can't be happening. I'm not ready to die. I'm not...
Images burst in my mind—flashes of what the creatures did to their prey. Torn limbs, blood staining the soil. I ran faster. I couldn't let that be my end.
A tear slipped down my cheek as my mouth trembled with silent panic.
Suddenly, the grass around us vanished. We had burst into a wide clearing—and across it stood a high, solid stone wall.
I stumbled to a stop, heart pounding. This was it. The end of the path.
My mother realized it too. She stood in front of me, arms outstretched protectively, tears flowing down her cheeks.
The sound of our pursuers closed in, louder now, closer. Seconds away.
This was how it ended.
We crouched there, helpless in the middle of the clearing, waiting for death.
You can't understand true hopelessness until you see death's face—undeniable, approaching, final.
Running would be pointless. It was already too late.
The grass ahead of us parted.
The first creature emerged.
It looked like a mountain goat, but its horns were far too large for its bony frame. The twisted spirals scraped along the ground, digging furrows as it moved. Its body was skeletal, sickly, as if rotting from the inside. Where hooves should have been, jagged claws dug into the dirt.
A cold dread clutched my heart.
Then more of them came, one by one, bursting from the grass like nightmares made flesh. Each more malformed than the last.
They're going to kill me. Why? I didn't do anything. Why would the gods let this happen?
I'm not even grown up yet. The gods must be cruel.
One of the beasts moved.
It took a few steps forward. Lifted its massive horns.
Dug its claws into the soil.
And charged.
I heard my mother scream.
Then—
A terrible crunch.
Her body crashed into mine, and everything blurred.
I was falling—
or flying—
or fading.
The world turned black.
I was losing consciousness.
At least I wouldn't feel the pain.
I did not hold on to the scene infront of me but just let go.