They’re dead.

All of them.

A hunting party, a hundred strong—knights, squires, hunters, lords, nobles—armed with lance, sword, and bow, setting out with the dawn, each in pursuit of glory.

Now they lie scattered across the earth, their bodies twisted, their blood staining the grass. The bright hopes of the dawn, now nothing but a sea of corpses.

They’re all dead.

My heart grieves for them—Men of strength, pride, and vitality—now reduced to cold flesh.

Their wounds already begin to turn. A sickly sweetness rises from them—the unmistakable stench of decay. Flies buzz in frenzied swarms, gnats hover like dark clouds, and crows, ravenous and impassive, feast upon all that remains. Their work will continue long after each man’s breath has stilled.

I lay beneath the canopy, the sunlight breaking through the leaves in broken beams, casting pale shadows on the earth. A cruel light. A mocking light.

My head throbs, my skull an aching void. Blood, mixed with dirt and the sweat from my brow, pours down my face. It stings but nothing compared to the fire that tears at my side and at my back. The pain consumes me. It threatens to pull me into the dark.

The most terrible of monsters.

The words echo in my mind, hollow and chilling.

“Where am I?”

I sit against an ancient oak, its gnarled bark rough against my broken flesh. I close my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts.

A moment passes. Then another. And another.

 Indecision. Hesitation. Fear.

 All cowardice.

I can feel it creeping inside me, crawling through my veins, pressing on my mind, whispering in my ear—that I should run, that I should hide, that the monster, the one that brought this ruin, is far too strong.

I could remain here. I could wait for death, for the creature to finish what it had started.

But I was forged from something stronger.

“Enough. Enough.”

The words fall from my lips, a soft, jagged whisper in the stillness. The air around me feels thick, as if the world itself presses down on me.

I take hold of my sword, heavy and blood-stained, its blade dulled, its edges nicked. I lift my rucksack from the earth, the weight of it grounding me, reminding me that I am still alive. Still breathing.

I stand. The world is quiet, eerily so. The trees loom above like silent sentinels. The grasses sway with a quiet grace. I look around.

Nothing. No signs of life. Only the endless expanse of the forest, a sea of shadow, a sea of green… and crimson blood.

A shiver runs through me. A chill that cuts to the bones. A moment of fear.

Then I feel it burn away. Passion like a fire in my blood… And my resolve rekindles.

I step forward, one foot after another, pushing through the haze of doubt and pain. The forest closes in around me, the weight of it heavy on my shoulders. And I walk on.

The monster is still out there, but I must continue on my way.

I don’t know where I’m going. But I do know this:

This is the path.

And I walk on.

I was forged in the fire.