Chapter 36
Written by Bayzo Albion
The Forest Queen did not walk away — she simply began to fade. Light and shadow wove through her form until her outline blurred, her presence thinning like morning mist. The whisper of leaves became her voice, the pulse of the earth her heartbeat.
When the last glimmer of her crown dissolved into the wind, the forest grew still — yet I could feel her everywhere: in the hush between breaths, in the tremor of every branch, watching, eternal, unseen
*You know, in most stories, heroes grind through tougher and tougher foes, dodging death in epic trials. But us? It's the opposite,* my double remarked with a smug mental grin. *Instead of rampaging beasts, we're up against increasingly stunning women! And honestly, if their beauty keeps escalating with each encounter... sign me up for those kinds of quests.*
"Pity I can't muster any real fear or dread," I snorted, casting a lazy glance at the horizon where the sun clawed its way higher, gilding the treetops in liquid gold.
*Then make it a challenge—life without dying. Let's see how you hold up in this game.*
– – –
I slumped by the dying embers of our campfire, prodding the glowing coals with a stick, their faint crackle the only sound breaking the woodland hush. The riddle of the Forest Queen gnawed at me like an itch I couldn't scratch. What did she truly hunger for? Glory that echoed through the ages? Riches piled high as ancient oaks? Dominion over this timeless wilderness, where roots delved deeper than forgotten empires? Or was it something softer—love, that elusive spark? A relic lost to legend? A prince astride a gleaming unicorn, straight out of some fever-dream ballad?
My thoughts spun like autumn leaves in a chill gale, restless and directionless. The fire's warmth barely touched the creeping dampness seeping from the earth, and the metallic aftertaste of my double's demise still lingered on my tongue.
My double, lounging against a weathered log like he owned the damn forest, let out a wicked chuckle that slithered through my mind.
*Or maybe she just wants a new plaything? Picture it: you, her devoted thrall, collared and leashed. And then... well, you get the idea.* He launched into a lurid monologue, painting scenes so explicit that the surrounding pines seemed to rustle in scandalized protest, their needles whispering secrets to the wind.
I chucked a pinecone at the empty space where he'd been, watching it bounce harmlessly into the underbrush.
"First things first—we need to restock on supplies. Sex, in case you forgot, burns calories like a bonfire."
"Why the hell did we even code it that way?" he griped, feigning outrage. "Back in the old days, it was a negligible energy dip for... production. No big deal. Now? Every time feels like I'm summoning a greater demon—total essence drain!"
I sighed, the weight of it all settling like fog in my chest. Complicating matters, both my teleportation anchors were gone, crumbled to dust. How she'd reached the one hidden in the crags—miles away, warded by spells I'd woven myself—remained a mystery wrapped in menace.
"Why not tap the divine spark?" he suggested, perking up like a pup scenting mischief. "Snap your fingers—poof, home sweet home!"
I shook my head, staring into the fire's hypnotic dance. "You'd have to be a total slacker to cheat in paradise itself."
"Smart folks are always lazy," he shot back, eyes glinting with sly humor. "Laziness is the real plot engine. If everyone hustled like ants, we'd still be shoving carts by hand instead of debating warp gates."
Twilight deepened around us, the sky bruising to indigo as a distant wolf's howl unfurled like a banner of warning—raw and ragged, slicing through the gloaming. Our trek home loomed long and unforgiving, the perfect canvas for this absurd, endlessly entertaining banter.
As we pressed onward, a strange clarity sharpened my senses. Every curve of the path imprinted itself on my mind—the brush of ferns, the lattice of branches filtering the fading light, the roots clutching at my boots. For someone long dulled by city streets, the forest felt alive—breathing, whispering, watching.
Night fell too quickly. Shadows thickened, stretching between the trees until the darkness felt alive, clinging to us like smoke. Every rustle seemed too deliberate, every gust too close. We quickened our pace, that primal warning crawling up our spines.
At last, the trees opened onto the clearing before my cabin, the last light dying behind us. From the woods came a sound—soft, distant, and wrong—as if the night itself had begun to speak.
And there she was.
The Forest Queen perched atop the bound Baroness like a sovereign on her throne, white hair cascading in luminous waves under the moon's silvery gaze. Her posture radiated regal poise, yet every subtle shift screamed predator—coiled, supreme, ready to strike. The Baroness writhed beneath her, ropes of glowing vines biting into pale skin, her breaths coming in ragged gasps that misted the chill air.
"Seems you weren't in much of a hurry," the Queen purred, her voice honey laced with venom, eyes gleaming like polished steel.
"Alas, no gift of foresight graces me," I replied evenly, forcing calm into my limbs. "Apologies for the delay, but if memory serves, you granted me eight full days to unravel your heart's whim."
Her finger trailed lazily along the Baroness's throat, a feather-light promise of torment, as if deciding where to sink her claws first. The air hummed with her power, a low vibration that set my teeth on edge.
"Perhaps I should showcase my might, make you grasp the peril you've stumbled into?" Her words were silk over razors, deceptively soft.
"The trouble is," I countered, advancing a deliberate step, gravel crunching underfoot, "the dead make poor spectators for such displays."
She threw her head back and laughed—a cascade of crystalline notes that chilled more than any scream. "Clever. But why bother proving myself to a flea?"
In that instant, her aura ignited, a virulent green blaze flooding the glade, casting everything in a spectral venom-glow. It twisted shadows into grotesque shapes, and the Baroness looked ghastlier still—her form a marionette of twitching limbs, veins pulsing with that unnatural light, body convulsing under the Queen's unyielding weight. Sweat gleamed on her brow, mingling with tears that carved silent tracks down her cheeks.
"Nothing groundbreaking," I drawled, feigning boredom to mask the knot in my gut. "The mighty always unravel when unchecked."
"Have you found what I demanded?"
"Of course," I said, as if discussing the weather.
Her brow arched, genuine intrigue flashing in those fathomless eyes—a crack in her armor, brief as a shooting star.
"I figured you'd stall, bleating about the deadline. But here you are, gift in hand... such a good boy."
"I'm afraid I might disappoint," I said, dipping my head in mock deference. "But first—swear you won't kill me before those eight days run out. It's vital. Crucial, even."
"I promise," she replied airily, as if vowing not to step on a flower. Then her gaze sharpened to a scalpel's edge. "Now... show me."
I fished a plain gray stone from my pocket—unremarkable, rough-hewn, worth less than the dirt it came from.
She flicked her eyes from the pebble to me, dissecting my intent with predatory patience.
"Nice jest," she murmured, voice a slow drawl. "But explanations, if you please."
"It's just a rock," I said, rolling it between my fingers, feeling its cool weight ground me. "Worthless on its own. But that's the point—we decide what holds value, what we cherish."
She huffed a laugh, lips quirking in reluctant amusement.
"Amusing. But I see no spark of meaning in it for you."
Her fingertips kindled with a gentle luminescence, and with a casual flick, the stone crumbled to ash in my palm, scattering like forgotten dreams into the grass. It vanished without a trace, absorbed by the earth as if it had never been.
"And now?"
We locked stares, the silence stretching taut as a bowstring. Her face was an enigma, smooth as obsidian lake water under midnight skies, while I traced the moonlit sheen in her hair, the elegant arch of her cheekbones. Her beauty was a weapon—raw, intoxicating—and I couldn't pierce the veil of her thoughts, no matter how I tried.
*Ah, that untouchable allure... it drives us fools wild,* my double mused lazily in my head, his tone equal parts envy and glee.
"Since you've nothing to offer," she declared, sealing my fate with finality, "kneel and worship at my feet."
*Yes! Let's imagine her skin tastes like cola candy—fizzy and forbidden...*
The pressure hit like an avalanche. Her power slammed down, invisible yet crushing, pinning me as if a dozen iron anvils had dropped onto my shoulders. The air turned to molasses, thick and unyielding; each breath clawed its way in, labored and burning. It wasn't just physical—her will invaded my mind, coiling like smoke, urging submission, whispering sweet nothings of surrender.
"As my old man used to say," I rasped against the strain, veins bulging in my temples, "if you don't swing back at bullies, they never quit."
"Not this time," she replied, her smirk pure, unassailable triumph—a queen secure in her realm.
*This is getting dull,* my double grumbled. *No fear, no pain—it's like fighting with one hand tied. And you're no one's lapdog, right?*
She cocked her head, watching me squirm with the idle curiosity of a cat batting a half-dead bird.