"We… We are ready to turn back, my lady."
The soldier cast a worried glance at the lieutenant, who was in a foul mood. He had escorted her back to their procession, as the commander had decided to leave her here to guide the others in his absence.
It was a logical decision: he would not leave his men defenseless while an immense danger was likely lurking not far away.
Nevertheless, she did not seem pleased with her new assignment. She too wanted to rejoin her comrades…
She was very close to them. She did not easily accept the fact of staying on the sidelines while the others did all the work.
Finally, after a long pause, she replied:
"Very well, let us depart without delay."
The soldier answered with a nod and was about to slip away, but the lieutenant stopped him for a moment.
"By the way, soldier, what is your name? I have the vague impression that I know you."
The soldier was surprised. Indeed, he knew Lady Sertyn well. He had served under her command—directly or indirectly—several times during the Great War, but he had not expected her to remember him…
Almost stumbling, he straightened himself and said politely:
"Oh yes, I have served under your orders before, my lady. But as for my name… well, I lost it a long time ago, I'm afraid."
Sertyn gave him an understanding look, as if she sympathized with him. Losing one's name must truly be disorienting, to say the least.
Even so, he received no more of her attention. She might have remained behind, but her task would be no easy one. Far from it.
She had to take the lead of the troop.
Guide them through this unknown place.
And quickly. As quickly as possible.
The order to leave the forest had not been easy for the soldiers to accept. The calm that had reigned over the procession quickly turned into murmurs, each man offering his own theory.
Fortunately, as Sertyn approached them to take the lead of the convoy, most voices fell silent. The lieutenant's presence was quite heavy, inspiring as much fear as admiration. Besides, these men were highly disciplined—the very best.
She appreciated this silence, sometimes broken by the creaking of carts and the sound of footsteps, though here and there a few bold men continued their speculations.
"You think it's an order from the Ancients…?"
"Damn… We walked all afternoon through this forest and now we have to leave."
"Hey, did you hear about Placide and Omod? Apparently they haven't given any sign for a few hours."
Sertyn paid it no mind, ignoring them. She quickly reached the front of the convoy and led the march.
The nameless soldier was much farther behind, forming the rear of the procession.
He was escorting one of the carts with a few other people. He was enjoying a rare moment of rest. The cart to his left was not moving on its own.
His turn would come soon…
That thought, which would have irritated him before, now strangely had no effect.
He knew why they all had to leave… Everyone more or less knew the general outline, of course, but he had seen… He had seen the terrifying head, he had seen the macabre scene of battle, and above all he had seen the worry etched upon the faces of the commander and the lieutenants.
The others had always considered them powerful warriors, unshakable—and they were—but… he could not forget the image of their faces filled with doubt and… fear?
No, impossible! That… that could not be the case.
He pushed that last thought deep within himself and sighed. The air was cool and the forest was pleasant, even at night. There was not really much of interest to do, but he appreciated the calm. It was not as though he could converse with anyone anyway. He knew no one and, in any case, no one was really in the mood to talk…
The hours passed like this.
Sometimes a few people called out to him either to ask about some detail or simply out of boredom. He did not truly dislike these interactions. In the end, he found himself enjoying the company of a boastful young man who told him about his exploits during the Great War.
Those stories were utterly unbelievable, but at least they were entertaining.
The young man looked at him proudly, his black eyes barely hiding his excitement.
"…And that's how I killed one of their distinguished champions."
Killing someone so powerful as a mere soldier was quite exceptional, and of course the nameless soldier did not believe a single word of it.
He was about to tell him that it all sounded rather far-fetched, but he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, calling his attention.
A man in the prime of life, whose face was covered with a wild beard, stared at him. He seemed somewhat exhausted, beads of sweat shining on his head and his breathing slightly uneven.
The man did not say a word, merely pointing at the cart.
The poor fellow must have hurried and therefore exerted extra effort… which meant it was his turn to help.
The nameless soldier understood that his turn had finally come.
Damn…
He was already starting to regret the time spent with the braggart. Though seeing the latter dragging the poor bearded man away to tell him his stories helped put things into perspective…
Maybe I don't miss it that much after all.
He wanted to linger a moment longer, but he had no time.
Hurrying toward the cart, he bent down slightly, passing beneath the wooden shafts before lifting them.
He held their ends firmly, moving forward with difficulty.
Heavy…
And for good reason.
These damned carts contained special darkness produced by one of the Ancients. He did not know exactly why they had to bring it here, but he truly hoped it would be worth it…
Eventually, he grew accustomed to the frantic pace of the procession, even with that terrible weight on his back. In any case, they had already walked for hours, so they could not be far from leaving the forest.
Nevertheless, something strange was happening. Even though they should have reached the outskirts of the forest—where the trees should have been less dense—he saw no sign of any clearing.
The forest remained the same. Again and again, despite all the distance they had traveled.
His grip tightened slightly and his steps grew heavier.
At first he thought he was imagining things. Perhaps his perception of time was distorted? Or maybe those moments with the braggart had been far more tedious than they seemed, turning minutes into hours?
But that made no sense…
He quickly realized he was not imagining things when most of his comrades began casting uneasy glances toward the trees surrounding them.
Yet no one said anything. It seemed none of them wanted to speak, each hoping they had simply been mistaken.
But suddenly a hoarse voice rang out.
It was a soldier like them, who stopped for a moment before breaking the silence.
"Something's wrong…"
A faint current of air brushed the nameless soldier, making him shiver. The breeze seemed to come from the depths of the forest. And it made him want to turn around…
His comrades felt the same. The back of their necks suddenly grew stiff.
He had to struggle not to do it. He was certain the darkness behind them would not allow him to probe it without consequence.
Ignoring the urge, he instead focused on the motionless man who had just confirmed his suspicions.
In fact, everyone was looking at him, as if waiting for him to explain.
But… he did not. The mature-looking man wore a terrible frown.
Despite this revelation, the procession continued to move. Soldiers passed by the man, throwing him uneasy glances.
When the nameless soldier reached his level, he noticed that the man's hands were gripping his scabbard tightly, while his eyes darted frantically in every direction.
The sight unsettled him slightly.
Perhaps he should do the same…
But no. Their orders were to leave this forest as quickly as possible, and lingering for a few strange events surely was not worth it.
Unless the strange event would not let them leave the forest…
The nameless soldier's mouth tightened for a moment. He was about to convince his comrade to keep moving and not fall behind, but suddenly the entire convoy stopped.
He almost stumbled, being only a few meters away from colliding with another cart.
Damn…
Around him, everything became still.
This time, no one spoke or made the slightest sound.
Sertyn appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the procession, the calm she inspired slightly compromised by a sinister expression… and a skull she held by a few black strands that served as its hair.
He could only recognize that skull…
A loud crash broke the silence as the cart he had been holding moments earlier fell to the ground.
Everyone was staring at him.
But he did not care, because he could swear the lieutenant had left the skull where it was.
Which meant that…
No. No!
That was impossible. She must have taken it with her without him noticing—that was the only explanation.
Looking at the lieutenant with a trace of hope, he could not reassure himself.
She too was troubled. Her soldier's reaction must have shown her that it was indeed the same skull.
Her blue eyes were empty for a moment before being flooded with boundless determination.
The soldiers around her grew a little less gloomy and afraid, and darkness danced around her.
The nameless man was absorbed by the scene before being engulfed by the darkness.
He was safe in its embrace.