Child of Nyuvreth -Chapter 2

NEYRAND


The two girls stood in silence - awestruck and amazed- as the gigantic trees loomed gloomily above them, casting a large shadow that completely blocked out the warm rays of the sun.

It was useless to attempt to look further into the Forbidden Forest, for it was extremely dark that no divine light in the whole universe could seem to penetrate through the blanket of darkness that appeared to envelope the Forest. The most disturbing factor is the void of quietness that exuded from the Forest's atmosphere. It was almost as if no living thing -be it animal or human- reside there.

Just by staring at it for a few seconds, Neyrand had already begun to regret agreeing with Maud's plan. It seemed that whatever celestial being created this accursed Forest, created it for the sole purpose of inciting instant fear in the hearts of any individual that came across it. Yet miraculously, Maud was unfazed by it. Instead, she was literally shaking in happiness, her eyes glinting in anticipation - not an ounce of hesitance or fear present in her expression. That slightly disturbed Neyrand.

Maud took a few steps forward, turned around and extended her hand to Neyrand.

"Come on, let's go!"

"I'm not sure that's a good ide-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Maud grabbed her hand and began pulling her forward. Maud walked towards the Forest with an air of confidence and no sign of fear or doubt could be seen from her posture. Her grip on Neyrand's hand was firm and it was as if she refused to let go; fearing that if she did Neyrand would turn tail and run back towards the village.

"Don't tell me you're beginning to have second thoughts?" Maud asked, raising an eyebrow.

"W-well, I just thought that we should've brought a lamp of some sort," Neyrand answered. "It does look pretty dark in there."

"Ah, not to worry!" Maud exclaimed, and began fishing in the pockets of her dress.

Releasing Neyrand's hand, Maud fumbled around in her dress pocket and brought out a box of matches. She slid it open and took out a matchstick and struck it against the side of the matchbox. Soon the matchstick was lit aflame. Grinning, she held the lit matchstick up towards Neyrand, as if it was the solution to all of their problems.

"You didn't bring a lamp?" Neyrand questioned.

"Forgot!" Maud kept on grinning.

"You do know if a gust of wind happened to come by that matchstick will burn out in an instant?"

"Stop being such a worrywart, Neyrand," Maud soothed.

Maud held out the matchstick in front of her and took Neyrand by the hand again, as they both took careful steps towards the unpredictable yet sinister gloomy pit of mysteries that was the Forbidden Forest- where uncertainties await them.




Once they entered the Forest, the enormity of the contrast between the Forest and that of the outside seemed to make itself known to both of the girls. Outside, the entire world was bathed in sunlight, as well as the vibrancy of the endless kaleidoscope of colours that it was painted in. The world beyond was truly a wondrous place filled with a plethora of various ethnicities and an overabundance of life- yet the Forest was another matter entirely.

It felt dead. Even the trees were dead, for no leaves adorned them. It appeared that no semblance of life had ever touched a single fibre in this entire place. Unlike the hustle and bustle of towns, cities and kingdoms, there was an absence of sound so profound that the only thing one hears is of one's own breathing. There was not a trace of any animal making their homes in the Forest, nor predators scouting for prey around the area. It appeared as if even the most malicious and hardy of beasts dared not enter.

With the lit matchstick as the only source of light, Maud led them both deeper into the Forest. Neyrand held on tighter to Maud's hand, the flats they wore created soft thuds against the mushed, long-dead weeds beneath them.

"It doesn't seem as if there's going to be wind," Neyand noticed, "is this place truly so cursed that not even wind will pass through?"

"If there's no wind, then that means there is a lesser possibility of the matches going out faster!" Maud beamed.

"Why are you smiling so," Neyrand muttered. "That's the least of our problems."

"What do you mean?" Maud questioned.

"What I meant wa-"

A loud rustling from the thickets to their right cut through the girls' conversation. They did not move a muscle and stood where they were, beads of sweat trickled down the side of their faces as Maud's grip on Neyrand's hand grew tighter to the point that their veins were nearly popping out. The rustling still continued and it felt like the longest time before a hooded figure holding a wooden walking stick stepped out.

Maud screamed and jumped high in the air, the lit matchstick fell out of her grasp and onto the forest floor. Immediately, Neyrand stepped on the lit matchstick and it went out before the fire could make contact with the dry, dead grass; preventing further catastrophe.

The hooded figure just stood there, immobile, and stared at the two girls- his features were completely covered by the hood. It does not seem to be the slightest bit perturbed at seeing the two girls, but continued to focus on them. Maud was still screaming, her pupils dilated -with a look of pure horror on her face. Whilst Neyrand froze in shock and was unable to utter a single phrase since the appearance of this mysterious hooded figure.

With her confidence and bravery all vanished in an instant, Maud turned back and began running towards the Forest's entrance- leaving Neyrand yet again in her state of fear. Realising that her best friend had left her alone to face this noiseless and mystifying figure, Neyrand's heart pounded so quickly and loudly against her chest that she could hear it reverberating in her head. She slowly took a step backwards. To her dismay, the hooded figure started to walk towards her.

The hooded figure suddenly stopped, lifting a shockingly wrinkled and bony hand, and took off its hood.

"It's not everyday someone enters this accursed Forest," a gravelly voice said. "But then again, who has ever?"

Neyrand reluctantly looked up straight into a pair of large, deep-set, vivid brown eyes that are as dull as a monk's robes. There were pronounced, heavy and sagging bags beneath his eyes. His nose was flushed red and bulbous in shape. There was hardly any hair left on his head, for it was smooth. But the only hair left on his face was a wide and thick moustache that was entirely tinged white. The only attire he wore was that of a long, black hooded cloak that covered his entire body except for his hands.

Neyrand could not find it in herself to speak a word. She had been struck speechless due to the appearance of another human being in this apparently barren and desolate place. All she could do was stare for the longest time at the strange man, whilst he regarded her with a glint of interest in his eyes.

"W-Who are you?" Neyrand whispered.

"Who I am does not matter," the wrinkled man answered, "what truly matters is what a young woman such as you doing in a dump such as this?"

"My friend insisted we explore this Forest-" she began, trying to control her voice from shaking in fear.

"Fools. Do you not know of the dangers that lurks in every corner of this damned place?" the man hissed.

"B-But-"

"Well, it doesn't matter now," the elderly man sighed. "Though I must commend you for your bravery."

"Bravery?" Neyrand thought aloud.

"Aye, bravery," the old man affirmed, "your friend is a whole 'nother matter."

"No, I wouldn't have entered if it weren't for her," Neyrand said, lowering her head. "It was her idea in the first place, I'm completely terrified of this Forest."

"Yet you weren't the one who ran away," the old man stated.

Neyrand looked up, eyes widened. It was the first time someone had ever called her brave. Usually the word brave was only associated with reckless and foolhardy individuals such as Maud, but never that of herself. Neyrand was a naturally curious type of person, but if she deemed the situation too dangerous, then she would prioritise her life first and foremost; choosing the path that would be most beneficial to her. To be frank, Neyrand was completely aware that she was a selfish and cowardly person- and at this she had always been ashamed of.

Yet Maud was an entirely different person compared to Neyrand. She was curious as well, but unlike Neyrand she had never valued or guarded her life with the utmost care. Maud was the type to confront the problem head on, and Neyrand had continually regarded Maud as unafraid and not easily shaken by things that would usually unsettle others. All her life, Neyrand had constantly placed her dearest friend upon a pedestal and longed to possess the selfless and courageous spirit that personified Maud Rolyn. In other words, she adored Maud and everything she embodied but to hear others say otherwise totally shook her long-standing beliefs to the very core.

Seeing Maud reduced by some misunderstood source of fear and run away like that - Neyrand began to wonder if Maud had been shielding and attempting to conquer her fears by burying it deep beneath a mask of valour and dauntlessness.

Unbeknownst to her, Neyrand took too much time being lost in her thoughts and pondering about Maud. The elderly, cloaked man started to become impatient due to the prolonged silence. Discreetly, he cleared his throat and Neyrand was reeled back in to the present situation.

"Pardon me," Neyrand apologised, " but I should really be going back now."

As Neyrand started to turn around to walk back to the way she came from, the old man abruptly stopped her.

"Not so fast, young miss!" he said.

"W-What is it?" Neyrand asked, beginning to feel the jitters again.

"Since you are the first human to ever bravely enter the Forbidden Forest and not run away after a few minutes," the elderly man declared, "I have decided to reward you."

"Reward me?"

"Why, yes indeed."

"And what is this reward?" she questioned.

"Your future," the elderly man grinned.

"What do you mean?" Neyrand crossed her arms.

"You see, foretelling people's futures has always been my specialty. And since I am the only living being residing here, I have proclaimed ownership over this accursed place. So it is befitting of me to bestow you a well-deserved reward for trespassing a place that none have dared cross before," he explained.

"So how does this work?" Neyrand asked, unsure.

"Ah, simply hand me a lock of your hair," the elderly man said as he took out a knife from inside his cloak and handed it to her.

Neyrand grabbed the knife from him and proceeded to cautiously cut off a lock of her hair. She then handed it over to the elderly man and returned his knife to him. As the old man held the dark lock of hair in his hand, he brought it up towards his nose. But before he could take a whiff of it, Neyrand stopped him.

"Wait," Neyrand said.

"Yes?" the old man muttered, annoyed at being disturbed.

"What if my future is filled with terror and misfortune," she spoke, "then that is not much of a reward now is it?"

The elderly man merely chuckled.

"What lies ahead has already been written for you long before your existence, and no one could change that. Be it good or bad, I can assure you that-deep inside- almost every person is curious to find out. Even if there is a risk that one might be destined to an unfortunate end, that would not stop them and eventually they will let their curiosity overtake them," he answered.

"And might I remind you, that prophecies are my specialty? What other way could I reward you?" he grinned mischievously.

Before Neyrand could protest further, the elderly man quickly brought the lock of hair towards his nose and took a deep sniff of it. Almost instantaneously, his body started to shake and tremble uncontrollably; causing him to drop his wooden walking stick as it fell with a soft thud on the ground. Yet the hand that held the lock of hair began to clench in a firmer grip than before, so much so that the old man's sharp, dirty fingernails dug into his palms, resulting in blood trickling downwards until it disappeared into the sleeves of his cloak.

All of a sudden, the old man seized Neyrand's shoulders harshly, causing the girl to yelp in surprise. Neyrand tried to escape, but she could only squirm helplessly as his hold on her grew tighter to the point that Neyrand was sure it would leave a bruise. Slowly she looked up and gasped in shock, for his brown pupils has turned white as milk. In the bone-chilling, sinister voice akin to that of a crone, the old man opened his mouth and began to speak.

" A simple village lass you may be,

But Hell's soldiers are within arm's reach of thee.

Flames shall wrought a many homes to cinder,

To reclaim what was once torn asunder.

Beware of thy tainted blood.

For time will come when thou must rectify the blunder.

But cast thine fear aside,

For the dying star will be your guide."





The painful feeling on Neyrand's shoulders gradually faded away as the old man loosened his grip. Apparently finished, the old man stood up straight as his eyes' natural color steadily returned. He took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped the sweat from his brow before bending down and picking up his wooden walking stick.

Whilst he was doing this, Neyrand just stood there with a distant look in her eyes- the whole experience had rendered her into a catatonic state. Completely speechless, her body had become rigid and stiff; her complexion sickly pale. The only sounds she could hear were the harrowing and foreboding words as it resounded in her head.

The elderly man smoothed out his cloak and lifted the hood over his head- his features once again hidden and unseen. He took a quick glance at the blanched and motionless figure of Neyrand, before turning around and walking away.

         

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