Morgan stepped back slowly, heart hammering in his throat. His heel caught a root and he nearly fell — but he didn't dare look down.
The yellow eyes were still there.
Fixed. Patient. As if they had been waiting for a very long time.
The darkness was so thick it was impossible to make out a silhouette, a body, anything that could give them shape. They simply floated in the absolute black of the forest — unblinking, unmoving. Morgan didn't blink either. There was something in that silence, in that stillness, that told him moving was a mistake. That looking away, even for a few seconds, could give that *thing* the chance to shift out of sight and do something before he could react.
There was no need for Morgan to blink — other eyes appeared from nowhere, opening in the darkness. They had a blue tint, slightly luminous, almost cold. Morgan began to back away, slowly, carefully, measuring each step. But more and more eyes started to emerge around him, surfacing from the shadows without sound, without warning. He looked in every direction trying to count them, to track them — and that was when he stopped watching where he was going.
He tripped.
This time there was no recovering his balance — he hit the ground, his gaze breaking away for just an instant. When he tried to fix it again, something launched toward him at great speed. Morgan covered his face with one arm and threw himself sideways to dodge it, feeling it graze past him — a light, swift rush of air.
He lay still on the ground for a moment, face covered, breath cut short. Slowly, he lowered his arms. Then he heard sounds that, somehow, felt strangely familiar.
When he uncovered his face completely, he saw it.
Those yellow eyes. Whatever had shot toward him. It was an owl — one that had flown close, grazing him, and was now perched on a nearby branch, slowly turning its head, watching him with that unsettling calm that only owls possess.
Morgan exhaled.
— Puff... you really scared me, little guy.
(He said, letting out a low, relieved laugh.)
— Maybe I should head back.
(He murmured afterward, something melancholic slipping into his voice.)
— What do you think, little guy. Should I go back?
(He said, tilting his head slightly, mimicking the owl, the ghost of a smile on his lips.)
The owl watched him. Still.
Then the voice arrived.
Cold. Unhurried. Coming from somewhere behind him.
— I think a young man like you shouldn't be out so late for a stroll.
Morgan shot to his feet and spun around. His first instinct was to look at the owl — for one absurd moment he thought it had been the bird — but the creature simply stared back at him, impassive. Then it spread its wings and ascended in silence, branch by branch, into the heights. Morgan followed it with his eyes.
And then he saw her.
Seated on a high branch, nearly merged with the shadow, was a humanoid figure. It wore a hood that concealed its face entirely — yet it carried a certain presence, a weight in the air around it. It seemed to be holding something and drinking from it with absolute calm, as though the night belonged to it. Owls surrounded it, perched nearby, silent, like guardians.
Morgan couldn't say when it had appeared there.
Or whether it had always been.
---
Morgan lurched to his feet and stepped back slowly, until his back found the trunk of a tree.
— My, my... what a curious visitor we have tonight. Don't you think?
The entity said it with a coldness that chilled — a soft voice, almost gentle, that shouldn't have caused such a shudder. It took a calm sip of whatever it was drinking. As if in response, the owls of the forest began to hoot in unison.
— Yes... you're right.
It spoke again, this time with the ease of someone continuing a conversation — as though the owls had genuinely said something, and it was simply agreeing.
It took another sip and turned its attention back to Morgan.
— Tell me, what brings you here at this hour, my esteemed visitor?
Morgan didn't answer. He only trembled.
Met with silence, the entity tried again.
— What brings you here, young...?
It stopped. It turned its head to one side — too far, the way an owl would — and its voice shifted, taking on a mildly eager tone that was more unsettling than any threat.
— Oh... interesting. What a very interesting visitor. I can see fear, pain, sorrow... but also kindness. Love.
Morgan blinked.
The entity had vanished.
He looked left, right, up, down — nothing. Only trees and darkness. But then its voice began reaching him from every direction, echoing, as though it had dissolved into the shadows themselves.
— I see something not yet corrupted. Something that does not belong to this place. Something that has come from very far away.
Morgan pressed his back against the trunk, searching for something solid to hold onto.
The voice sounded closer. Too close — as though it were standing right in front of him, though there was no one there.
— Something that is human... and yet, not.
He looked up.
There it was — standing on the trunk of the very tree he leaned against, looking down at him with its feet adhered to the bark in a way that should not have been possible. A white mask covered its face, crowned by antlers made of twisted branches. Beneath it, two turquoise eyes watched him — fixed, curious, unblinking.
— Am I wrong?
---
*End of chapter.*
*Next chapter: Cernunnos*