Chapter 3
Vik’s eyes were fixed on the looming treeline at the forest’s edge, just beyond the grassy meadow where the air carrier had touched down. The towering evergreens with their masses of long, needle-like leaves had once seemed inviting—perfect for games of hide-and-seek. Now, however, their dense branches hunched inward, casting deep shadowy fingers that stretched across the clearing as if to warn him away from entering their domain.
Try as he might, Vik struggled to focus on Scholar Veridian’s instructions echoing across the meadow. The scholar’s voice faded into an indistinct droning buzz in his ears, concentration proving impossible amid the meadow’s distracting sights and sounds.
“Contained within this box is your invitation to our academy,” Veridian explained, presenting a shimmering silver box cradled in his hands. The box was simple in design, but the careful details and fine craftsmanship betrayed the effort someone had poured into making it. “Your challenge is to locate the key that unlocks this box. It has been concealed somewhere within this forest just this morning. You’re familiar with these woods, aren’t you?” the scholar inquired, attempting to gauge Vik’s response.
Vik could only nod, his thoughts scattered and rattling around in his head. He and Damian probably knew these forests better than anyone in Stillwater, having explored every nook and cranny while growing up. When they first moved to town, Jacob had tried to keep them out, always worried about the island’s unpredictable weather and wildlife posing unknown threats. Eventually, though, he’d accepted their need for independence, arming them with weapons, tools, and survival training. This wilderness was their backyard, and knowing how to navigate and survive in it was crucial. There was one overriding rule about the forest: “Enter and stay together at all times.” This marked the first time Vik ventured into it alone.
“You may utilize any item in your bag or that you find in the forest, but once you commence, you cannot exit until the invitation is in hand. Accepting help from another will result in immediate disqualification,” Veridian instructed, observing Vik for any sign of acknowledgment.
Vik agreed, glancing at his father, who wore a look of concern with each of Veridian’s stipulations. With a brief clearing of his throat, the scholar pressed on.
“Your deadline is sunset. Return here with the key, and the invitation is yours. Take this tock; it’s timed to the day’s last light. Ensure you’re back before the final grain falls.”
Carefully, Vik accepted the small, golden timer. It was hardly bigger than his two fingers side by side. Inside, sand seamlessly flowed from one chamber to another, its pace constant no matter how Vik rotated the device.
“And do remember to return the tock once you’re finished,” Veridian added, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “The last scholar who forgot claimed a giant river serpent swallowed it. Oddly enough, our time keepers were not sympathetic—they suggested we feed the boy to the same serpent to retrieve it.” He chuckled, tapping the golden timer with a careful finger. “Three hundred hours of craftsmanship tends to make people rather… attached to their creations. Alright, if you are ready to begin, I will give you your one and only clue to locate the key. Please, open it only once you’ve distanced yourself from us. Good luck and remember to watch the tock.”
Vik received the compact, folded note from Scholar Veridian, slipping it securely into his pocket. With no time to spare, he quickly hugged his father and sprinted off into the depths of the forest.
It’s just a simple test, Vik tried to tell himself as he quickly walked toward a resting spot. Yet, a wave of anxiety surged through him, causing a dull ache in his head. Seeking a distraction, his eyes caught a glimpse of an orange and black willow bird darting through the sky before perching on a nearby branch. Its poised demeanor, as it surveyed the ground for its next meal, offered Vik a moment of solace. If that bird could successfully hunt in this dark corner of the world, surely he could accomplish his task.
Vik finally reached his destination. Before him lay an enormous tree stump, its width surpassing the span of his arms. A formidable storm years prior had unleashed a colossal thunderbolt, toppling the ancient behemoth. Under normal circumstances, such a revered tree would remain untouched, as tradition held that the spirits of ancient trees played a crucial role in maintaining the island’s equilibrium. However, given its fall, the community chose to pay tribute by repurposing its wood to expand the docks. Vik sat down on the stump and took the carefully folded note out of his pocket.
His breath caught momentarily as he unfolded the crisp parchment. The message, written in precise, deliberate strokes of dark ink, read:
In shadows deep, a key aglow,
Plunge to find the summons few may know.
Within the stillness, where dangers bind,
A path to great wisdom is yours to find.
Vik examined the riddle intently, and within moments, the thought of Bee Caverns surfaced in his mind. Nestled close by, a network of small caves had been a playground for him and Damian during sweltering days. The caves earned their name due to the abundant presence of wild bees that made their nests in the crevices, turning the area into a buzzing haven especially during the warmer seasons. The insects were harmless though, offering no threat as long as they were left undisturbed.
Slipping the riddle back into his pocket, Vik couldn’t help but chuckle at the seeming simplicity of his task. “This is going to be a breeze,” he assured himself, leaping from the stump. He broke into a jog toward the caves, optimistic about his chances of returning home in time for lunch.
~~~
Captain Aric Mandrake had little patience for manual labor, believing his talents lay in more strategic pursuits. Yet, when it came to his horse, Bux, he made an exception. Bux wasn’t just any horse; he was a formidable warhorse with strength that surpassed many, and he reserved his trust solely for Mandrake. The captain was the only one Bux would allow to care for him—anyone else daring to try might be lucky to escape with merely broken bones.
As Mandrake gently worked the burs from Bux’s tail, he murmured compliments to the horse. Bux responded with occasional foot stomps, seemingly engaging in the conversation as if comprehending every word.
Satisfied with the grooming, Captain Mandrake tossed the brush onto a hay bale and grabbed a wash bucket. Exiting the modest stable, he couldn’t help but grumble about the inadequate shelter provided for Bux. The tranquility outside offered a brief respite as he made his way to the water pump, but as he reached it, a sudden unease made him halt. Dropping the bucket, he whirled around, a long knife now in hand, to face the treeline from which a lean figure cloaked in black emerged, advancing slowly. The figure, hooded and faceless, seemed utterly unfazed by the armed man before him.
Mandrake sensed the change before he could identify it—a sudden, inexplicable stillness descended over the area. The birds fell silent. The ambient rustling of leaves ceased, though the breeze continued to blow. Then came the odor—a sickly-sweet scent of decay mingled with something metallic and coppery, like blood left too long in the sun. Though some decay might be expected near a stable, this smell was unmistakable and raised the hairs on Mandrake’s neck. His prior encounters with bloodsick had taught him to recognize their presence, each carrying their own signature of wrongness that seemed to bend reality around them.
“Tell me, Captain,” the bloodsick hissed, each word accompanied by a visible ripple in the air, as if its very speech distorted the space between them. “Can you not read?”
“Of course I can read,” Mandrake shot back quietly, his knife still raised. He knew the blade offered little protection against a being that could potentially bend the world around him, but instinct demanded he maintain some semblance of defense.
“Did you not… understand the instructions?” it countered, its yellow, crooked teeth now fully bared. With the creature’s face exposed, Mandrake could hardly tell this monster was once human. The ghostly white skin stretched tight over its bones, the fiery red eyes, and those diseased teeth unmistakably marked its painful transformation. The bloodsick’s fingers twitched spasmodically at its sides, itching to use what power it could summon.
Mandrake maintained his composure, careful not to show fear or deference. The bloodsick might possess powers that dwarfed his own physical abilities, but showing weakness would only invite aggression. In his experience, these corrupted beings respected only strength and calculation. Another might have felt a surge of pity for this twisted form of existence, but not Captain Mandrake. In his eyes, bloodsick were dangerous tools to be managed carefully—useful for their powers, but never to be trusted or underestimated.
The bloodsick didn’t pause for Mandrake’s reaction. “You see, it was very clear. Bring the boys to Garrison Point,” it hissed, drawing closer with each word, now merely three steps away. “Both of them.”
The thought of lunging at the creature, aiming for its starkly exposed, ashen neck crossed Mandrake’s mind. It seemed like a vulnerable spot, unguarded against an attack, unlike the rest of its body which might be fortified by its monstrous transformation.
“I had it under control until those arrogant builders showed up,” Mandrake countered, his voice steady, betraying no hint of the turmoil within. He stood his ground, neither advancing nor retreating—a calculated neutrality. “You should have warned me they were coming.”
A small rock near the bloodsick’s foot suddenly crumbled to dust without being touched. The creature seemed not to notice, but Mandrake did, his eyes darting briefly to the disintegrating stone. Each bloodsick manifested different abilities as the reality-warping power corrupted them. This one’s particular talents remained a mystery to him, and he preferred to keep it that way.
“No matter, plans change. I will take the older boy later,” the bloodsick declared, its smile more menacing than comforting. Dark veins pulsed visibly beneath its translucent skin, carrying whatever remained of its lifeforce. “Assuming he lives that long.”
“This conversation is pointless. The boy will probably fail their silly test. Either way, our original plans were very clear,” Mandrake responded, deliberately matching the creature’s tone, speaking as an equal rather than a subordinate. “The boys were not to be harmed.” In truth, the wellbeing of the Redwill boys barely registered on his list of concerns. But maintaining the appearance of authority was crucial—showing any weakness to a bloodsick was inviting them to exert dominance.
The creature’s eyes flared brighter for a moment, shadows around them deepening unnaturally. “Focus on the younger one, Captain,” it retorted sharply, a hint of pain crossing its features as it exerted its will. “Failure is not an option. For either one of us.” The implied threat was as clear as if it had been shouted at Mandrake.
After the bloodsick vanished into the dark folds of the forest, Captain Mandrake let out a quiet sigh. He might share a goal with that creature, but trust it? Never. He quickly looked around, checking if anyone had overheard them. Associating with a bloodsick, especially being seen conversing with one, was a direct path to imprisonment. Not even the influence of his stepfather, General Dereign, could shield him from such a fate, though he would die before asking help from him.
“Good luck boy,” the Captain chuckled, thinking about Vik as he sheathed his blade. “You are going to need it.”
~~~
Vik rested at the entrance of Bee Caverns, pausing to drink deeply from his water pouch. Hours of fruitless searching within the caves had drained him, exacerbated by the stifling heat and thick humidity. Enclosed by towering trees that obscured his view, Vik sensed the sun was directly overhead. Retrieving the tock from his pocket, he examined it closely. More than half the sand had already descended to the lower sphere. Time was slipping away.
Come on, Vik, he chided inwardly. This shouldn’t be so difficult. For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted to Damian. He was likely wrapping up his chores, preparing for the acceptance dinner with Mandrake tonight. Damian always had a knack for solving riddles and puzzles, better than Vik ever did. He’d probably have unraveled this clue by now, Vik mused with a hint of dejection.
Damian was still asleep when Vik and Jacob left early that morning. Choosing not to wake him, Vik understood that they had each chosen their own paths. Despite Damian’s frustration with his decision to take the test, Vik maintained a deep respect for his brother.
No time for dwelling on thoughts, Vik reminded himself, swiftly stowing away his water and pulling out some bread and cheese. He hopped off the rock where he sat and began to move away from the caves. As he nibbled on his bread, Vik unfolded the clue from his pocket, pondering over it as he chewed.
He fished the note from his pocket and poured over it once more, especially dwelling on the phrases about darkness and light. Familiar as he was with every nook of this forest, the clue remained frustratingly vague. The Bee Caverns seemed a plausible guess, yet the true hiding spot could be under a toppled tree or buried in some hole—dark places were abundant here.
Continuing on aimlessly, Vik walked to steady his jittering nerves, convincing himself it was too soon for panic. This task shouldn’t be as difficult as it felt, he mused, questioning his choice. The oppressive heat was doing him no favors, making concentration a battle. He flirted briefly with the idea of tapping into his abilities to ease his discomfort and sharpen his thoughts. However, he dismissed it almost instantly; Vik hadn’t dared to invoke his powers since his illness years back, an ordeal that had nearly cost him his life.
Vik irritably brushed away the flies nipping at his skin. As kids, this was just about the time he and Damian would abandon the forest to jump in the river and head home to eat. Afterall, even soldiers on critical quests needed respite from the heat. Those were simpler, carefree days, he mused.
A sudden realization brought him to a halt: Plunge. Water. The river lay beyond the forest’s edge, and no significant water bodies existed within, except small, mysteriously deep ponds on the side of the forest furthest from the river. Vik and Damian had always steered clear of the ponds, spooked by the thought of being dragged down into their bottomless depths. There was an eerie aura about them that urged caution, compelling the brothers to keep their distance.
Shaking off his apprehension, Vik stuffed the clue into his pocket and quickened his pace toward the ponds. With every stride, his certainty grew; he was on the right path to finding the key.