Drust snorted, his mouth twisting upward disdainfully at Ghent’s tone. Still, he nodded. At least the boy had enough sense to not argue the matter.
Elayra’s smile only tightened jubilantly when Ghent turned fully to her, his voice quiet, enjoying how much of a rile she had gotten from him. It almost made being called Blondie worth it. Behind her, Drust scowled in anticipation of the inevitable argument between them.
She let out a snorted, “Ha!” when Ghent finished. “You can’t even pronounce ‘Holeland’ right.” She crossed her arms in satisfaction. “Featherhead does fit perfectly. If you’d really rather, I could call you Ding—”
“Enough!” Drust growled, swiping a hand through the air beside him.
Instinctively, Elayra jumped and spun to face Drust. She moved away from him and raised a hand to push Ghent with her and keep him from harm’s way if he did not do so himself.
Drust’s neck twitched. His gaze bore into both of them angrily. “You’re wasting time and energy. Even if the spirits are in a good mood, we’ll already be spending a night in Hollow Forest. Let’s not make it two.”
Elayra inhaled at the news. “But what about the Twisted Forest? We could reach it’s bounds just after nightfall if we—”
“That’d add at least two days of travel,” he snapped. “More, depending on his,” he jerked his head toward Ghent, “stamina.”
Elayra stiffened, the lines webbing out from his pupils pulsing over his sickly tinted eyes. She squared her jaw, taking half a second to weight the pros and cons of objecting. The pros won out. “It’s not a smart move, Drust! It isn’t worth—”
He snarled, and his neck cracked with its next twitch. He closed the little space between him and Elayra with scarcely half a step. The veined red of his irises threatened to color his pupils, their black pulsating as he fought against the Curse.
She inhaled and moved a foot back, strengthening her stance. Without time to draw her sword, she raised one arm defensively and extended the other, pressing its palm against Drust to keep him at arm’s length.
He gripped her wrist tightly and forced her hand to the side. With a tug on her arm, he made her stumble forward so their faces were inches away, his towering over hers.
She reached to draw her dagger to warn him away. She scowled down at her belt when its absence reminded her of its hiding spot in her boot.
He gripped the sides of her jaw with his free hand and forced her to look up at him. “Do. Not. Test. Me, Elayra,” he said through his teeth, his voice dangerously low, a gravelly undertone threatening at its edges.
Elayra’s heart pounded in her chest, but she wiped her face of any fear or uncertainty. They locked gazes for a few second that felt like minutes. Her gray eyes were hard, silently pleading for Drust to win out, for the veined red that had consumed over half his pupils to let up. She scarcely dared to breathe.
Drust’s gaze flicked toward the newest healing scar at her chin. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His grip tightened slightly on her wrist before he released her, turned so his back to the teens, and stepped to the side of the path.
Elayra’s shoulders sunk with a silent sigh of relief as Drust pinched the bridge of his nose, taking slow, deep breaths.
“Listen closely, Ghent,” Drust began without looking over, his voice strained and clipped. “No matter what you see, hear, or feel in these woods, do not wander. Stay close. Stop only when we stop with you. We follow the rising sun south.” He jerked his head toward the opening, indicating for them to go ahead of him.
“Come on, Ghent.” Resisting the urge to rub her wrist, she reached for Ghent’s arm to pull him toward where the end of the broken cobblestones turned into the vine-choked forest floor. Where the relative safety of Harrow Hollow Hill turned into Hollow Forest.

"Close enough." Frowning down to his sneaker, Ghent looped the lace around his finger and secured the knot in one swift, irritable action. If Elayra had her way, the entirety of Wonderland would call him Featherhead before nightfall.
Rising to his feet, Ghent grit his teeth and leaned closer, silently challenging the girl to finish her sentence.
Drust's outburst made short work of their argument. Ghent straightened hastily, only to receive a push from Elayra. Unable to tear his eyes away from the knight, he half-stumbled, staring at the darkness threatening to consume their guardian.
Spirits?! Ghent's legs felt weak. He eyeballed the forest, shuddering at the idea of having to spend the night in such a horrible, haunted place.
"Okay, okay!" Looking back to the pair, Ghent decided to tackle their current problem. If Drust didn't calm down, someone would get hurt. Or worse. Swallowing uneasily, the boy raised his hands to surrender. "No more fighting. We'll conserve our energy."
The promise didn't accomplish much. To Ghent's dismay, Elayra wouldn't back down. Based on her body language alone, he had a bad feeling things were about to get physical.
"If...that's your main concern," Ghent interrupted hesitantly, posture stiff. "I have plenty of stamina." Speaking up was risky, but he didn't want to be singled out. The fact that Drust automatically assumed he would be the first to tire irked him.
"Can't we talk this over?" Unfortunately, his words fell on deaf ears. With one last twitch, Drust advanced towards the girl and restrained her by the wrist.
"Guys, come on!" Ghent stepped in to separate them. The fabric of Drust's sleeve scarcely brushed against his fingertips when he felt a nagging buzz of energy inviting him -- no, tempting him -- to let magic settle the disagreement.
No! What are you thinking?! Ghent dropped his arm and clenched his fists in refusal. He wouldn't give in. Magic could do more harm than good, and potentially hurt the both in the process.
"DRUST!" Left with no choice, Ghent raised his voice. "Come on! She's already hurt!"
Drust appeared to slow. Ghent followed his gaze to the wound on Elayra's chin, praying that the sight would be enough to bring the knight back to his senses.
There was a long pause. Ghent's heartbeat thundered in his ears. After Elayra was freed, he exhaled shakily.
"I-I won't." Hearing Drust's voice again nearly made the boy jump. The warning in the words chilled him to the core; he had no desire to wander on his own. Not with the dead lurking somewhere inside.
Swallowing hard, Ghent allowed Elayra to pull him in the right direction. He glanced to her wrist, feeling partially responsible for Drust losing his temper.
"Are you okay?" Ghent kept his gaze on Hollow Forest, expression tight with worry. If magic exists, he reminded himself, ghosts can too.

Elayra scowled at Ghent’s question. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be walking, would I?” she snapped as they cleared the few feet remaining between them and Hollow Forest. With her foot scarcely half a step from the dirt floor of the woods, she released Ghent and hesitated a moment more.
She contemplated giving Ghent a warning, but then, there really was nothing anyone could say to prepare someone for their first step in Hollow Forest. So instead, she cast a glare at him.
“And don’t you ever shout someone’s weakness again!” she hissed, her gaze hard, then she turned on her heels, braced herself as well as she could, and stepped into Hollow Forest.
As soon as they passed beneath the protective tree barrier, an eerie silence settled around them, a silence that made one appreciate exactly how much noise is always there, even in the quietest of moments. The oppressive sensation of emptiness, regret, and despair greeted them, as if the sorrows of the world had sunk into the earth and coalesced in the soil of the forest. The intense hues of the foliage around them created a beauty that looked more like a Photoshop job than reality, a beauty ill-placed among the emotions that prickled at the edges of their consciousness, waiting to be allowed full entrance into the minds and hearts of any soul too weak to block it out.
Around them, the morning sun peaked through the emerald leaves, dappling the vines meandering their way about the forest floor and climbing up any surface they could cling to. Dust motes floated lazily in and out of the young rays, glittering in a peaceful façade, as immune to the aura around them as the vegetation.
Elayra shivered. She placed her left hand on her sword, gripping the hilt tightly. A few paces out, she turned to make sure both Ghent and Drust followed, incapable of hiding her unease as she tried to guard her mind and emotions.

Ghent didn't expect Elayra to be cordial toward him, but he was still taken aback by the hostility in her tone. Sneakers scraping against a few larger vines littering the ground, he kept up with her until she released him from her grasp. Instead of continuing to follow, he stopped and absentmindedly rubbed his forearm, reluctant to venture deeper.
"I don't know," he mumbled underneath his breath, "would you?" Due to Elayra's stubbornness, he had a feeling it would take more than Drust to keep her from walking. She was wounded in multiple places and was able to hold her own relatively well, as Ghent witnessed several times over the course of the morning and evening prior to it.
"What the heck are you talking about?" Ghent didn't bother to hide his confusion when she spoke about him calling attention to a weakness. He inadvertently flinched upon receiving the glare, baffled as to why she was so furious with him. His intention was to help, not to give her more of a reason to dislike him.
"You know what? Forget it." Waving off the conversation, Ghent gave up on trying to figure out what he did wrong and began to walk again in fear of being chewed out by Drust. "Look, I get that you're mad at me, but I..."
A single step into Hollow Forest repainted the world around them. The colors were so fantastic, Ghent's mind had difficulty accepting the foliage as real. The beauty of the area was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
"...Was trying to help." The words were amplified because of the silence. So much, that Ghent cringed, expecting Elayra to scold him for speaking too loudly.
Mumbling an apology, he hugged himself through his cold, damp hoodie and walked deeper into the forest, dust motes floating to and fro with each step he took. The newest look into Wonderland should have filled him with awe, but he could only feel dread.
And I thought Walmart was depressing. Ghent moved forth slowly, turning his head in every direction to get a full visual of their surroundings. He couldn't help but feel hopeless about their journey; the cruel thoughts seeping into his mind saw to that.
Disturbed by the influence the forest had over his emotions, Ghent stopped somewhere between Drust and Elayra. Brows furrowed, he faced them, daring to hope that he wasn't alone in what he was experiencing. "What is this place?"

Elayra cringed when Ghent finished, his voice piercing the quiet. But at least he was following. For once, she only shook her head instead of giving him a lecture on not needing his help. She glanced upward, then to the base of the trees, gauging which direction the sun rose by the positions of the shadows cast by the plant life, and headed south. She cast another glance behind her, matching her pace to Ghent’s so he was never far from her, and watching for Drust.
Drust hesitated a long moment at the opening between the wall of trees, before following after the two teens. His neck twitched and he clenched his teeth when the wave of emotions flooded over him. His hands balled into fists, and he forced his breaths to come in a steady, calming rhythm.
As soon as he was clear, what looked like brown putty oozed from the ground, twisting its way upward. In no more than a couple seconds, it reached the height of the trees around it and solidified into a mirror image of them, completely blocking the path to the gate into Harrow Hollow Hill.
No matter how hard any of them tried, the gentle rustle of their steps sounded loud as they hiked deeper into Hollow Forest, roots and vines threatening to catch their feet if they were not careful. Drust kept a cautious distance between himself and Ghent, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Leading the procession, Elayra cast frequent glances to Ghent and especially their guardian, worry and even nervousness gleaming in her eyes despite her best efforts to hide it. She struggled to fight off the despairing thoughts running through the back of her mind, trying to sink their roots deep enough to take full control.
Quicker than seemed possible, the barricade disappeared from view, obscured by the forest’s plant life. If not for the subtle movement of occasional rustling leaves, the forest seemed almost frozen in time.
Not noticing Ghent had stopped, she went a couple more paces before glancing behind her at his question.
“Keep. Moving. Boy!” Drust snarled, his head twitching and his voice tense as he halted well behind Ghent. The lines snaking from the corners of his eyes pulsated to their own rhythm, expanding and decreasing with a quick beat that made Elayra’s breath catch.
“Walk and talk,” Elayra whispered. She reached back to once more take Ghent’s wrist, in part to make sure he kept moving, but partially to remind herself she was not alone, no matter what the spirits of the forest tried to make her believe.
“It’s a defense of Hollow Hill,” Drust answered Ghent’s question, his words gruff. He offered no other insight, the Knight in no mood to explain anything.
“According to legend,” Elayra began softly, eager to fill some of the eerie silence, “this forest was once a normal forest. But then, the portals appeared out of nowhere, taking the forms of hollows in trees that had grown overnight. The people living here devoted themselves to studying them, to figuring out how they worked and where they led. They became the first Jumpers. They tried to keep the portal’s existence a secret until they knew more about them, but word got out, and people began to flock to them.”
Elayra shuddered and glanced around, the sensation that they were not alone, that something else lurked amidst the trees, invisible, creeping down her back. She licked her lips, and continued, keeping a diligent eye cast around them.
“There were those who wanted to simply learn whatever they could, their intentions harmless enough. But there were also people who wanted to exploit the portals for selfish gain. Fights broke out regularly over how they should be used.
“Then, a powerful sorcerer bypassed what little security the portals had back then. He snuck into other worlds and rallied an army to vanquish those who tried to keep the portals from him and his like. The war that ensued nearly brought Wonderland to its knees. The people feared this sorcerer and his magic companions.”
She glanced back to Drust, trying to put as much sincerity into her next words as she could. “But there’s always a light in the dark.” Her gaze shifted to Ghent, then to the trees ahead of them. “Three people came together to put an end to the war: Absolem, who was said to be half of the physical realm, and half of the Spiritayum, as well as the first man to fully connect to portal magic; Edelia, the most powerful vinifcium the world has ever seen; and…” she paused and took a deep breath. “And Zandon Heart, a cunning thief and warrior who had never tasted defeat in battle.
“Together, they formed their own army, even gaining support from a few of the denizens of the Spiritayum. Their final battle occurred in this forest.”
She halted and spun to the side, pulling her sword a couple inches from her sheath, sure she had seen movement in the corner of her eye. Only the silent forest greeted her. She took a steadying breath and continued forward.
“The trio met face-to-face with the sorcerer in battle. Together, they overpowered him and his men, but the number of lives lost was innumerable.
“Because of the involvement of the Spiritayum, they say that battle created a tear here, where the realms of the physical and spiritual collided, trapping the souls of the dead, dooming them to an eternity haunting these woods. The emotions of war—fear, desperation, sorrow, pain—remained with them, soaking into the land, both souls and feelings providing another defense. Some spirits are helpful, and only ward off those meaning harm, while others...”
She let the words trail off. She swallowed, the sensation of otherworldly presences tingling over her skin as if the tale of their fate had made them gather around to listen, invisible amidst the daylight spearing through the lush canopy.
Perhaps now, surrounded by the haunted woods, was not quite the best time to share the tale. The shadows suddenly felt darker, more sinister. Even the glittering dust motes felt like they held malicious intent. A mysterious breeze blew through the trees, brushing by and toying with her and Ghent’s hair. Its whispered voice, somewhere between natural and supernatural, made a chill run down Elayra’s spine.
They were out there, watching, waiting for them to let their guards down, and she knew she would be defenseless against them. As defenseless as she was against the Red Queen.
Her free hand clenched, and her grip on Ghent tightened. She clenched her teeth and growled, trying to banish the thoughts, to push away the mental tricks the cursed forest and its dead inhabitants were trying to play.

There it was. The order to keep moving. Ghent grit his teeth and closed his eyes, inwardly cursing the knight for his diligence.
"Does anything get past this guy?" Grumbling about the injustice of it all, Ghent resumed walking when he felt Elayra grab his wrist again. He glanced at the blonde skeptically, but didn't object. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt safer with her nearby.
Frowning in discontentment, Ghent decided Drust was to blame for all of this. It was because of him that they were in such horrible place, their guardian should have listened to Elayra. To make matters worse, the knight became tight-lipped, offering no insight for the forest he insist they travel through.
Thankfully, Elayra was willing to fill in the role of storyteller. Ghent followed her with more willingness than before, desperate to have the haunted forest explained to him.
The story started interestingly, but it didn't get far. When Elayra paused to look around, goosebumps rose up and down Ghent’s arms. He kept silent, but the look on his face spoke volumes for what went through his mind. Slowly but surely, he was succumbing to the fear the forest fed them.
“Kind of like us.” Ghent perked up more at the mention of the three joining forces. It excited him to imagine they were newest trio of heroes. The trees rustled ominously, silencing his foolishness. This was not something to celebrate.
"Whoa." Amazed to hear Hatter had competition, Ghent had half a dozen questions to ask about Edelia in particular. He sensed Elayra's reluctance when Zandon was mentioned, but he couldn't figure out where her hesitance stemmed from. Just as he started to ask for more details regarding the trio, Elayra leapt into action.
Believing their first ghost had been spotted, Ghent yelped and got into a defensive stance. He tried to mentally prepare himself for a ghastly sight, but nothing was there.
Exhaling shakily, he straightened after Elayra relaxed her sword hand. Hollow Forest was about the worst place possible for someone with a wild imagination.
When they started moving again, Ghent tagged along beside her, privately relieved when she brought up the negative emotions that came with the war. At least he wasn't the only one who felt the disturbance in the air.
“You feel it too, right?” Ghent spoke softly, disturbed to think the earth beneath their feet was once host to a brutal war. Elayra didn’t give an estimated number to the lives lost, but he could feel the list of causalities was immense.
Ghent wasn't sure how to respond when Elayra brought up the helpful spirits. Friendly or not, he didn't want to be in a situation where he needed to accept help from the dead. Instead of commenting, he eyed her curiously, confused by her trailing off before the sentence was completed.
"While others...what?" In order to see Elayra's expression, Ghent matched her pace and leaned in closer, watching her intently. "If they're ghosts...they shouldn't be able to touch us, right?"
As if to answer the question, a light breeze passed over them, a feeling Ghent mistook for a set of ghostly fingers combing through their hair. The sensation was sudden, cold, and completely unwelcome. A combination that sent him over the edge.
"THEY CAN TOUCH US!" In his attempt to dodge what he believed was a hand, Ghent bumped into Elayra and swiped his arm through the air in order to knock away their invisible assailant. When his poor excuse of an attack didn't work, he froze in his tracks, unsure which action or direction to take.
Biting his lower lip, Ghent looked around wildly as he felt Elayra grip his arm, an action which gave him reason to believe she was frightened too.
"Elayra, I don't want you to panic, but I definitely felt something." Ghent was doing all of the panicking, but he liked to believe Elayra was more afraid than he was. "And I heard a voice!" He flexed his fingers before balling his hands into fists, seconds away from blurting out the first focus word that came to mind.

Elayra licked her lips and shook her head at Ghent’s last question. Before she could give an actual answer, Ghent succumbed to the forest. His terrified shout shattered through the quiet of the woods, bouncing off the trees and repeating back to them in an unnatural echo.
Elayra shouted in surprise and stumbled a step forward when he bumped into her, her saber drawn in an instant at the panic in his voice, before his words actually registered. Behind them, she heard the familiar shing of Drust partially drawing his katana, quickly followed by an angered snarl and a sharp, clicking snap as he replaced it.
Heart pounding from the fright Ghent gave her, her face twisted in anger as she realized what had caused his outburst.
“You idiotic chicken!” she shouted at him, sword still drawn with the contemplation of using its hilt to knock Ghent out. But then, they would have his dead weight to deal with.
She inhaled and spun around, positive she had heard an echoic laugh behind her. The dust motes in one of the trees turned into a misty figure for a fraction of a second, before it dashed away, turning into a blur that vanished into thin air, leaving only the forest in its wake.
A deeper, sardonic chortle sounded, blending in with the first and radiating from another part of the woods. Another breeze stirred up around them, this one lower to the ground. It picked up fallen leaves, making them billow about their feet before swirling toward the foliage above, as if the leaves were trying to return to their lost perches.
“Give them fuel, and they’ll do more than just ruffle your hair!” Drust snarled through his teeth. His neck twitched violently.
Elayra held her sword defensively in front of her, her gaze cast about the forest, hoping Drust could keep it together. Another misty figure darted between the trees to her left, this one closer than the first, before disappearing into a tree.
She tried to take a couple breaths, to push back the despairing dread crawling up her, seeping into the soles of her feet from the very ground upon which she stood, but it clutched at her chest—fuel for the less than helpful spirits.
Drust turned his back to them. “Elayra! Eyes ahead!” he snapped, his head doing a double twitch as he took a backwards step toward them. His gaze scanned the trees behind them, his stance firm and defensive. “Keep going!” He angled his body to keep his charges in his peripherals without compromising too much of his view of the forest.
Unsure if he would see, Elayra nodded stiffly, her grip on her sword tightening to keep her hand from trembling.
“Stay between us!” she ordered with a glance over her shoulder to Ghent, her usual mask cracking fractionally to show her uncertain apprehension. “And try not to do anything stupid, Featherhead!”
She started forward again, sparing only half a glance behind her to be sure Ghent followed.
Before they could move more than a couple paces, more of the dust motes seemed to gather together in the morning light to their right. In little more than a blink of an eye, it spiraled upward, then shot forward. A hazy, featureless face with only a mouth open in a scream formed at its point, a high-pitched whine somewhere between an angry wind and a pained shriek rising from it as it shot straight for Ghent.

Ghent lost the ability to think or behave rationally. Covering his head with his arms, he yelled out in terror and ducked when the disembodied laughter became too much for him to handle. The emotions in the air were overpowering, suffocating him until he yielded to the emotional chaos the war left behind.
After the leaves settled down to their rightful place on the ground, he rose cautiously, dropping his hands down to his sides.
"B-but I-I felt a hand," he stammered, voice weak. How Drust and Elayra managed to remain calm, he did not know, nor did he want to. If this was normal to them, he didn't want to know what was abnormal.
"Okay, fine!" Although Ghent was irrational, he knew Drust was right. Choosing to follow Elayra's example, he took a few deep, shaky breaths. His poor attempt at meditation was cut short when the shadowy figure revealed itself.
While Drust alerted Elayra, Ghent clasped a hand over his own mouth to stifle the cry he felt coming. He made a rather pathetic muffled noise, but managed to keep himself better composed this time.
In the blink of an eye, the ghost was gone. The inhabitants of Hollow Forest were taunting them.
Exhaling through his nose, Ghent shuddered and began to follow Elayra when she snapped at him.
"Do you honestly think I'm going anywhere?!" Lowering his hand from his mouth, Ghent kept his voice down to a harsh, irritable whisper. Even when they were being assaulted by the dead, Elayra still found time to use her horrible name for him. "In case you haven't noticed, we're surrounded by ghosts!"
They forged ahead, and Ghent continued to act as their lookout. Paranoid as he was, it wasn't long until something new caught his eye.
"Hey, guys? W-what is that?" he pointed to the collection of dust motes, disturbed by the hypnotizing way they began to combine. Despite looking quite harmless, the fragments of dust frightened him. Just about anything did at this point.
Before an explanation could be offered, the apparition took form and shot upward, creating an image so horrifying, Ghent was robbed of the ability to scream.
Thrusting both hands out in front of himself, Ghent squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head to avoid meeting the ghostly creature face-to-face. The scream from it echoed all around him, the image of its soulless face burned into memory.
"INEXUS!" Ghent shouted the focus word at the top of his lungs. A panicked, frantic shout that sounded more like a plea for help rather than a command.

In the same time it took for Ghent to so much as think the word, to vaguely contemplate calling upon the world’s magic, it swelled around him, feeling lazily interested. When the boy’s emotions surged through it, feeding it, it strengthened, reacting in as equally of a reckless panic as its commander.
“NO!” Drust shouted as the first syllable of the focus word left Ghent’s lips. The black veins in and around his crimson eyes pulsated as he lunged to clasp a hand over Ghent’s mouth before the magic could take to the careless demand.
Alas, he was not quick enough.
A burst of energy radiated from Ghent. The backlash of the gale-like rush made the boy’s hair and hood whip around his head as it erupted, unguided, from him in all directions.
All at once, the force blew through the face of condensed dust motes, scattering them to the winds with a bassy whoomp. It slammed into Drust, his hand centimeters from Ghent, throwing him back. It made Elayra shout as it knocked her from her feet as well and sent her twisting through the air in the opposite direction as Drust.
Elayra landed on her stomach a handful of yards away, narrowly missing a patch of vine-choked bramble, the wind knocked from her. Drust’s flight came to an abrupt end as his back hit an oak tree with enough force to make it shudder. He slid down the tree with a moan, slumping forward as he reached the ground.
As quickly as it had risen, the gale dissipated. For a short, tense second, a silence more eerie than its naturally unnatural quiet befell the forest.
Then, came the whispers.
Dozens of disembodied voices rose among the trees, as if the plants themselves had discovered the secret to speech. Echoic whispers of men and women alike. Whispers that spoke only a single word in an uncoordinated loop in a mix of horror, shock, and intrigue:
“Vinifcium!”
As suddenly as they had begun, the voices cut off. It was as if someone had slammed a door shut on a soundproof room brimming with people. In its wake, the silence was defining.
“You…” Elayra breathed, managing to catch her breath as she propped herself up. “You dunderheaded, imbecilic moron!” she finished her redundant insult as she got to her feet.
She swiveled on her heels to face Ghent, fear and fury warring for dominance in her gray eyes. Her hair stood at odd, windblown angles. Dirt and leaves Ghent’s magic gale had stirred up speckled the platinum locks, making her look more like a dirty blond who had just gone skydiving than a fearless warrior princess.
Her gaze flicked from Ghent. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her saber as she searched for Drust, her fury momentarily diminishing into worry. She inhaled through her nose as she spotted her guardian, unmoving, against the base of a tree.
“Drust!” She took a couple frantic running steps toward him, for the moment forgetting about Ghent.
She slid to a stop near Ghent as Drust slowly stirred in his unconsciousness. For a short moment, relief flooded through her; he was alive. But that relief was short-lived. Her skin went two shades paler as realization of the situation dawned on her.
Drust had been knocked unconscious. By magic. In Hollow Forest.

The magic answered Ghent's panic-stricken call immediately.
The rush of power was far stronger than any of his previous attempts. The magic felt wild, untamed. Ghent could feel the fabric of his hoodie ripple, his sneakers planted firmly into the ground as he heard the shout of Elayra and the strange, hollow sound the energy made before the mini hurricane was over.
Hood clinging to the side of his face, Ghent dropped his arms and opened his eyes. The ghost was gone, but so were his companions.
“Oh no…no, no…” Gripping his head with both hands, Ghent looked from the knight to the princess. The two had been thrown a considerable distance away from him, each unmoving.
“Guys?!” Neither answered. Ghent’s mouth went dry as more fear clawed its way into his frantically beating heart. Dozens of unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind, every scenario ending in death.
While Ghent's brain decided to freeze along with his body, the spirits gathered to identify him. Their jumbled commotion would have been impossible for him to decipher, if not for the same thing being said over and over again.
Vinifcium. Ghent swallowed. He was beginning to hate that word.
The voices varied in pitch and volume. Ghent turned around and tilted his head back to see where they were coming from, but his efforts to see them were in vain. He covered his ears to block them out, but they sounded closer. Louder. Finally, could no longer bear the comments of his invisible audience.
“SHUT UP!” Amazingly, the world went quiet after his latest outburst. The soul crushing silence was filled only by the sound of Ghent’s quick breaths, and some light scuffling from behind him.
Sensitive to the smallest hint of sound, Ghent spun around and jumped into a rather ridiculous fighting stance, which he quickly abandoned when he saw the source of the noise was Elayra.
“Blondie!” The relief was short lived. Ghent intended to help her up, but he considered running in the opposite direction after he saw the dangerous, intense flash of anger in her eyes.
"I..." Ghent opened his mouth and closed it again. Rather than defend himself against her insults, he stared, wide eyed at the sight of her. He mentally counted six leaves and half a twig tangled within her blonde locks, and that was just from the front.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Their voices carried across the clearing with little effort, something Ghent was no longer concerned with. The ghosts were already well aware of their location, he saw no point in whispering. “That thing was about to take my head off! What else was I supposed to do?!”
No reply. Baffled by her lack of response, he followed Elayra's gaze. The girl was focused on the bigger issue at hand. Drust.
"Oh no..." Ghent was so caught up in the moment he forgot about their guardian. The knight wasn’t dead, but he was down for the count. This was a big, big problem.
Equally as pale, Ghent's gaze shifted to Elayra. The only thing scarier than seeing her angry was seeing her worried.
“Blondie, whatever you do..." Ghent raised his hands halfway as if she were on the verge of hysterics. "Do. Not. Panic."

Though his apology fell on deaf ears, Elayra’s head twitched toward Ghent when he spoke again. She forced herself to take a slow breath, regretting that she had not knocked him out when she had had the chance. At least then she would have had Drust’s help to carry him, instead of the other way around.
She grit her teeth when Ghent continued, her hands clenching. “Don’t even finish that,” she growled, but it came too late: he finished. Her eye twitched irritably.
As if it was contagious, Drust’s fingers twitched.
She could punch Ghent later. Right now, they had something worse to deal with.
She spun around to face him, making her hair whip behind her. Face scrunched in an effort to keep her fear and panic from showing, she glared up at Ghent.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “That little trick?” she swiped her sword to the side, pointing to where the phantom face had formed. “The worst it could have done was make your allergies act up for the next hour.”
She sheathed her sword before the temptation to use it on him became too overwhelming, the blade sliding home with an angry click.
“But Drust?” She turned her back to Ghent, and stepped cautiously toward her guardian, her gaze wary. She rested a hand back on the hilt of her sword, just in case. “If he wakes up here, there’s no way he’ll be in control. Not with this place’s whispers eating at him.”
Though she would not admit it, she did not feel like she had another fight in her today. Not against Drust, at any rate. Between no sleep and a rough twenty-four hours, she would be running on fumes soon, if she was not already. The cruel powers of the forest only added one more stone after the other to the pit of her stomach. At this rate, there was no way they would get out of there. Not in one piece, at least.
“We need to find a Safe Zone.” Elayra stopped beside Drust and knelt down.
He sat awkwardly, propped up by his thick pack. Beneath it, his katana had twisted to the side, pulling its strap tight.
“Before you ask,” she moved Drust enough to pry his pack from his back, “they’re small pockets protected from the spirits and emotions.” She quickly loosened the frogs keeping Drust’s katana attached to its back strap.
Doing her best to keep her hands from shaking with the effort to keep the doomsaying emotions at bay, she shoved his katana into his pack. A couple things clinked inside the seemingly bottomless backpack, but she ignored it and closed it.
She slipped out of her own pack, then tossed her smaller one toward Ghent. “See if you can shove yours,” she nodded to his scull-patterned backpack, “into mine. Lose it,” she threatened, replacing her pack with Drust’s on her back, which looked rather uncomfortable compared to her smaller size, “and I’ll run you through.”

"How the heck was I supposed to know?!" Ghent moved back, flinching at the brandished sword. He hated it when Elayra wielded anything sharp. Which was always. "You guys should've warned me!"
At the mention of allergies, he cocked a brow and sniffled once to make sure his nose wasn't running. It wasn't, but his throat still felt scratchy after hauling William around. Dumb cat.
"J-just calm down, okay?! Maybe he won't remember what happened," Ghent offered weakly, his troubled gaze flickering to the unmoving figure. The mere thought of Drust waking sent a cold shiver down his spine.
Just as Ghent started to wonder if they were better off leaving the man, Elayra mentioned the Safe Zone. The name itself was like a breath of fresh air, and he nodded to show he understood and wholeheartedly agreed.
"I like that idea," Ghent told her, watching as she relieved Drust of his katana. The boy was foolish enough to hope he would be given the weapon, but it was packed away into the very bag he envied.
“What about me?” Ghent hated being unarmed, especially with the possibility of Drust waking up. “Don’t I get something?”
As if to answer his question, Elayra had tossed him her pack.
That’s not what I meant. Ghent caught the pack by one of the straps. When in hand, he was surprised by how light it was compared to what he carried.
Slipping out of his backpack, Ghent stiffened when the threat reached his ears.
“I won't lose it,” he mumbled quickly, irked that Elayra thought him to be that incompetent.
Dropping the backpack to the ground with a soft thud, Ghent crouched down next to it and brought Elayra’s pack with him. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how badly he was trembling. His hands shook uncontrollably as he found the flap, pulling the material back to allow him a glimpse inside.
To Ghent's disappointment, there wasn't much to see. The opening of pack resembled the mouth of a cave; dark and uninviting. He was tempted to try getting a better look, but didn’t dare with Elayra standing a few feet away.
Still shaking, Ghent pulled his backpack closer and attempted to shove it inside of the pack. The grinning skulls seemed to taunt him as his efforts were in vain. The backpack was too wide.
Undaunted, Ghent unzipped the backpack and shuffled a few items around. After that was done, he set the backpack on the ground and pushed down on it to help flatten the contents.
Satisfied that the appearance was slimmer, Ghent tried again. It took some effort and a bit of twisting and turning, but the pack finally accepted his belongings.
"Well, that's done..." Ghent didn't have time to be amazed, he was too busy worrying about Drust waking up. He slung Elayra's pack over his shoulder, looking disapprovingly at the pack she swapped hers for. Rather than comment, he turned his attention to the knight. Moving him wasn't going to be easy.
"Er..." Ghent glanced sideways at the girl. "You wouldn't happen to have a spell that would make him a little lighter, would you?"

Elayra snorted when Ghent asked about a weapon. She watched him impatiently as he struggled to put his backpack in hers. She gripped the bridge of her nose and took a few deep breaths, as she had seen Drust do to try calming himself, to reassure herself the negative voices in her head were wrong.
“It’s not a matter of him remembering.” Her voice came out strained from the effort to keep it even. “He wakes up outside a Safe Zone, and I guarantee it’ll be the Curse in control from the get-go. Not him. No ifs, ands, or buts.” She looked back up at him as he shifted the items around inside his pack to reshape it, wasting precious time. She glanced nervously to Drust, his back slumped once more against the tree, but he remained stationary.
Her gaze fell to Ghent’s shaking hands. To his open, uncontrolled fear. She took another deep breath.
This isn’t his world, she reminded herself, trying to ignore the quiet, He’s going to get us killed, that crept into the back of her mind.
“Hurry up!” she barked, harsher than necessary, her own anxiety ever rising with her doubts.
At long last, Ghent managed to combine the packs. With his inside, it weighed a little under a pound more than it had before.
“No!” she snapped, her lips curling up in anger at Ghent’s last question. “No magic! Not on him. Knights are weak against it, and a stink worm’s better at controlling it than you.”
Her back stiffened and her attention snapped behind her, sure she had heard a rustle, her hand instinctively moving to her sword. But there was nothing there. Nothing your average human could see, at least. All the same, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, sensing eyes on them that her other senses could not find.
“Grab his legs.” She nodded jerkily toward Drust’s legs as she moved his upper body so she could wrap her arms under his armpits. His hooded cowl bunched beneath her grasp, and his head lulled near her shoulder.
She shuddered, hating how lifeless he felt. The reassuring rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he still lived. Fourteen years of fighting against the Sorceress’ men and magic, and it took one day, one attack from an inexperienced boy to knock him down.
She grit her teeth, her grip on him unintentionally tightening. “And keep an eye out for the tichari. Ghost foxes. They’re our only chance at finding a Safe Zone.”

"Okay, okay! I was only asking." Grimacing at the stink worm comment, Ghent stepped around Elayra and approached Drust. This was the first real look Ghent had of the man. Before it was either too dark to see, or he was too intimidated to stare.
Ghent's heart thudded in his ears as he studied the motionless figure. Seeing Drust without his katana was unusual, but it brought him little comfort. The knight appeared perfectly capable of killing them both, with or without his blade.
Seeing Elayra turn in his peripheral vision, Ghent's breath caught in his throat. He looked over her head and grit his teeth together, refusing to repeat the same mistake twice.
Magic will make it worse, he scolded himself, or it could save you, the second thought scared him. It scared him because he was truly tempted.
Thankfully, nothing was there. Not that it meant much when ghosts were involved.
Wishing to avoid being snapped at again, Ghent followed Elayra's newest order. He slid his hands underneath Drust’s legs, lifting once he had a good grip. Drust wasn't as heavy as he expected, although this was only a portion of his weight. Ghent doubted he would get far trying to move him on his own.
“Great,” Ghent huffed, readjusting his hold. The forest wasn’t limited to human ghosts, now he had to worry about the ghosts of animals too. He waited for Elayra to get into position, but then he realized something. Not only was Elayra taking the heavier looking pack, she was lifting Drust from the heavier side.
"We should switch,” Ghent told the girl, his expression serious. “He's lighter from this end, and..." his eyes lingered on her shoulder for a split second, but he stopped himself from voicing his concerns. He knew better than to point out she was still wounded.

Elayra’s back stiffened. She focused on Ghent, doing her best to ignore the phantom wind that had decided to pick up once more. It toyed with a couple free strands of her debris-littered hair. A faint whisper floated to them on it, its words indecipherable. Whatever reprieve Ghent’s magic use had provided, was fading.
Elayra carefully timed standing with Ghent. Though Drust’s looser clothes hid them, there was no mistaking the hard musculature beneath. As she had expected, his deadweight was not as severe between the two of them. At the least, he would be movable. All the same, between the pack and Drust, a pain flared in her shoulder, reminding her of the abuse it had recently received.
She tried to hide a grimace, but failed. Drust dipped slightly. She ground her teeth and readjusted her hold, lessening the burden on her right arm. Alas, Ghent noticed.
Why is it he always notices what he shouldn't? she thought bitterly.
She opened her mouth to snap out, ‘No. Stop wasting daylight,’ but the irritating throb remaining in her shoulder stopped her. She looked aside to the ground with a heavy exhale through her teeth and nose.
“Fine,” she bit grudgingly instead. It sounded as if the word itself was painful to say.
As much as she hated it, he was right. Just the thought created a sour taste in her mouth. She carefully lowered Drust back to the forest floor. Not looking up at him, she stepped to swap places with Ghent. “But be quick about it.”

Ghent tensed underneath the chill of wind. He bit his bottom lip, his grip on Drust tightening.
It's just a trick, he used Elayra's words to reassure himself, desperate for his inner voice to drown out the whisper he heard drift so dangerously close. A harmless, little trick.
When the wind died down, Ghent exhaled with a weak sounding sigh. He would never get used to Hollow Forest.
Fighting to keep his body from trembling all over, Ghent turned his attention back to Elayra. He guessed she would snap at him, but she didn't. To his shock, and perhaps to the shock of any ghosts secretly present, she agreed.
The look of disbelief on Ghent's face was almost comical. He was so used to bickering and being turned down, he didn't know how to react. Unwilling to give her time to change her mind, he set Drust down and moved to swap places with her.
"As you may remember, I used to work at a book store." While Ghent spoke, he slid his hands underneath Drust's armpits and hoisted him up from the ground. As expected, the knight's top half was heavier.
"Drust weighs about as much as a shipment of books," Ghent rambled, as if she would care. The forest's silence disturbed him. Talking was the only thing he could do to cancel out the quiet.
After becoming satisfied with his grip, Ghent nodded to show Elayra he was ready to move.
Keeping his eyes and ears alert for the slightest movement or sound, he did his best to match Elayra's pace. He couldn't see her feet, he could only feel each time she took a step.
"A shipment of hardcover books, though...definitely hardcover," Ghent mumbled, readjusting his hands so they locked across Drust's chest. The last thing he wanted was to drop their guardian.

Elayra could feel his disbelieving gaze as they switched off. It felt like more and more of her willpower went toward not punching him. Or worse. She satisfied herself with a heavy scowl, and got busy.
Adjusting the pack slightly, she bent and picked up Drust’s legs.
“Congratulations, Featherhead,” she grunted out to his comment as she draped one leg over each shoulder.
She definitely had the lighter side, but the man was still nearly seven feet tall, and far from being lightweight. She stood carefully with Ghent.
Gripping them just below the knee, she shifted the portion of his weight she bore as much to her left shoulder as she could. Though the right still throbbed slightly at the use, she was confident it would hold out until either they found a Safe Zone, or Drust woke up. She silently rooted for the former.
With Drust’s middle sinking toward the ground, she did her best to time her steps with Ghent’s. She looked to the canopy of leaves above. Deciding the sun would set roughly behind her, she set their pace.
She huffed a sigh through her nose as Ghent spoke again. She was not sure which was worse: the forest’s supernatural silence, or him talking.
Curse or no curse, Drust was their greatest chance at fending off any physical foes. Was. Because of Ghent. With their greatest fighter unconscious, the threat of the woods settled heavier over her.
She grit her teeth as Ghent rambled on. “Shut it, Featherhead. Focus on finding one of the tichari. They won’t be easy to spot. Especially in the daylight.”



Elayra’s words held true. The sun’s rays shone through the thick trees, turning the woods into a mottled patchwork of light and darkness. The vines choking the forest floor slithered about their feet. Flashes and swirls of inexplicable light bobbed and sailed through the shadows, there one second and winking out the next. Laughter and moans carried softly on the impossible breeze from voices that had long since lost their physical hosts.
But no ghostly foxes appeared.
As the day grew older, the phantom wind grew colder. Elayra became more and more on edge with each passing minute. The gentle throb of her shoulder slowly grew despite her efforts to keep most of Drust’s weight off it. But she had already given in to it once. She would not let it win a second time, could not afford to let it hinder her.
She refused to rest until Ghent absolutely needed it. Even then, she paced impatiently as well as the thickening forest allowed, clutching her saber's hilt like a lifeline.
As the sun slowly began to sink, a pressure seeped into the atmosphere of the forest. The sensation of not being alone intensified.
The dead were beginning to gather for the encroaching night.
At long last, Elayra called them to a halt. Nerves nearly at their wits end, she carefully sat Drust down on a patch of dormant vines. The moment she was free of his legs, she reached over and gripped her sword’s hilt.
The shadows beneath the trees rapidly grew darker, bleaching the lurid colors of the forest as if the spirits sucked the life out of the woods as they grew stronger. The faint whispers lurking just at the edge of consciousness rose in volume. The woods rustled around them with a new life, the flashes of light coming more frequently, yet still keeping their distance. For now, at least.
Elayra swallowed hard. She gripped the hilt of her sword tighter and her empty hand clenched, trying to scare off their slight, fearful tremor by force.
There was no way they could find a Safe Zone on their own before nightfall. Before the malevolent ghosts arrived. Before Drust woke up.
“Listen up.” Elayra began, her voice tense and gruff in an effort to keep her growing terror from breaking through. Despite her attempts, her eyes betrayed her, her emotions raging in their depths. “If we can’t find a tichari and get to a Safe Zone, we’re in for a rough night.”
Between them, Drust stirred, just visible in the crepuscular light creeping about the forest. His body stiffened, and his long fingers twitched into experimental fists, before relaxing again.
Elayra clenched her teeth and, in the blink of an eye, drew her sword, her gaze on him. He had been doing that a lot this past hour. He could not be far from waking. She raised her sword defensively in front of her, gesturing for Ghent to step away, just in case.
She snarled when that simple action made her overused shoulder pulsate angrily. The expression frozen on her face, she transferred the sword to her left hand. She bent down and swiftly drew her dagger from its hidden sheath in her boot. Swiveling it so its blade faced away from him, she stepped toward Ghent.
“Take this.” She reluctantly held out its handle to Ghent. “Just try not to hurt yourself with it, would you? And do not strike to kill if you have to use it against him.” She jerked her head toward Drust. “Am I clear?” she finished threateningly.
She would not release the dagger until she gained confirmation, her gray gaze boring into him with a silent, dangerous warning if he disobeyed.

First Elayra would step, and then Ghent would. Eventually, their steps fell into a predictable, repetitive pattern.
Ghent kept a diligent eye on their surroundings, craning his head back every so often to see if a tichari happened to be trailing along behind them. The irregular flickers of light tricked him several times, but nothing was there. His efforts were in vain.
The teenagers continued to trudge ahead. The silence offered a void for conversation, but Ghent didn't say a word. His mention of Frank's Book Barn had him thinking back to the world he left behind.
I should've said goodbye. He could no longer focus on their task. His thoughts blinded him to his surroundings. The moan of a ghost sounded dangerously close, prompting him to quicken his pace. They'll never know what happened to me.
It wasn’t long before Ghent's muscles began to protest against Drust’s weight. His arms tingled past the elbow, a staticky feeling soon followed by numbness. Slowly but surely, the knight slipped closer to the ground.
Grumbling something unintelligible about books, Ghent braced his knee against Drust's upper back. He fixed his arms around him again, hoping to prevent the man from hitting the ground. For a while, he managed. Drust slipped again.
Finally, Ghent had to admit defeat. He needed a break.
"I t-think I need a sec," he announced, startled by how loud yet pathetic his words sounded. He couldn't seem to master the art of keeping his voice down, nor could he hide how terrified he was to be in such a horrible place.
Thankfully, Elayra didn't deny him a moment to rest. Relieved of his burden, Ghent gave his arms a chance to regain feeling. He remained put, silent as he observed Elayra pace. The pacing wasn't of someone who was impatient, but nervous.
Shivering involuntarily, Ghent adverted his gaze. Elayra was scared, and so was he.

---

After what felt an eternity to Ghent, he felt Elayra stop. Without being told, he eased Drust to the ground and plopped down to sit alongside him. Ghent was sore, tired, and discouraged. Not a tichari in sight.
As Elayra demanded his attention, he sat up straighter, shoulders slumping at the news. He didn’t want to imagine Hollow Forest at night. Daytime was bad enough.
“That’s just great,” he sighed, his eyes following along the line of looming trees. They looked like all the others. If not for the vines on the ground, he would have thought they traveled in a perfect circle. “Isn’t there some way to bribe one of them into coming out?”
Before he got an answer, Drust seemed to stir. Fearing for his life, Ghent scrambled to regain his footing and practically dove behind Elayra for protection.
“He seriously needs to stop doing that!” he hissed, peering around his human shield. Drust didn't seem far from waking up. “That’s the sixth time! I've counted!” He did indeed count, for every time Drust threatened to move, Ghent felt himself age ten years.
Shaking like a leaf, he turned to face Elayra as she approached. As usual, the girl held something sharp, but this time the sharp end was pointed away from him. Slow to understand what the gesture meant, Ghent waited for clarification.
“W-wait, really?” Despite his earlier request for a weapon, Ghent didn’t actually believe he would be given one, and definitely not one from Elayra’s personal arsenal. He looked the weapon over with curiosity, reaching to accept it.
"Why the heck would I try to kill him?" Ghent drew his hand away, aghast. Even in self defense, he couldn’t imagine killing the knight. He didn’t think himself mentally or physically capable.
His eyes shifted back to Drust. He could have sworn he saw him stir for the seventh time.
“L-look, I promise, okay?” Impatient and panicked, Ghent motioned for her to surrender the dagger. “I won’t hurt myself, and I won’t kill him. I swear!”

Elayra snorted at Ghent’s question about trying to kill Drust. “Because you’re a featherhead, Featherhead,” she snapped, her fear forming bitterly on her tongue.
She flinched when a flash of light sparked to life only a yard away. A wicked chortle reached her ears, sending a chill down her spine. An unnerving electric sensation tickled her skin, making the hairs on her arm prickle. The spirits moved ever closer.
Her head snapped toward Drust when his body stiffened and shifted subtly.
Despite his reassurance and hasty promise, she stared at Ghent a moment more, her eyes narrowed. Finally, she nodded and relinquished the dagger to him.
“‘Bribe them out,’” she muttered at the ridiculous suggestion as she returned her full attention to the greater threat at the moment. The spirits could wait. They still had a bit of time before they became more than a nuisance. “Think I have the ghost of a rabbit hidden somewhere, do…?”
Elayra’s head raised slightly as exactly who she was traveling with struck her. Or, rather, what. She scowled. How could I be so stupid?
She slapped her free hand to her forehead, disgust at herself in her eyes. “You’re a vinifcium!” She looked to Ghent, glowering. “You can communicate with the Spiritayum.”
Drust would’ve thought of that hours ago! She glanced nervously to the surrounding trees, the darkness gathering with alarming swiftness.
Her grip on her sword tightened as Drust exhaled heavily. “And the tichari are messengers of the Spiritayum. You can bribe them out!”

At long last, a weapon. Ghent could scarcely believe it when he felt the weight of the dagger in his hand. Had he not been so afraid, his face may have lit up with excitement. As it was, he inspected it, only half satisfied.
Brows furrowed, Ghent held the dagger out at arms length and brought it back to his side. He did this twice, as if measuring the distance necessary to stab Drust.
"Don't you have anything else?" Ghent wasn't usually so ungrateful, but he had his own skin to think about. The blade was very short, and that meant he had to be very close if he needed to defend himself.
"Don't get me wrong, it's nice," he turned the dagger over, examining the blade in a sliver of light peeking through the trees. "But it's kinda small, don'tcha think?"
Elayra smacking her own head wasn't quite the reaction he expected. Ghent shifted his weight to his other foot, annoyed she should repeat what the ghosts chose to taunt him with. Life was a lot easier when he was a human.
"Pretty sure we covered this earlier, Blondie." Grumbling, Ghent poked at a dust mote with the dagger. It bobbed along its chosen path, bringing Elayra back into his line of vision again.
"I can what?" Ghent balked. His list of possible skills grew stranger by the second. Elayra seemed determined this was possible, so he went along with it. She had been right with everything else, he had no reason to doubt her now.
"O-okay...well...how do I do that?" Ghent's voice shook with uncertainty. Hearing Drust's heavy breath, he angled himself to keep the knight in sight. "Is there a spell, or...I don't have to meditate for this, do I?"