Ikuyami: Everfree

~Yonaka~

A static thud wakes you from your slumber. Upright you jump, your eyes dart back and forth across the room to find the culprit, but see the attic empty, save for the white pup resting next to you. Turning your view skyward, you find the moon still high in the sky. You breath a cold sigh through clenched teeth. The racing pulse in your chest dies down to a rhythmic beat. Moss had grown on the floor while you slept, coating the rotting wood with a natural shag, soft to the touch of your glassy black hooves. The dog's tail perks up at your arousal, and the two of you head downstairs to leave.

A sharp tingle edges against the back of your neck when you breach the threshold, as if something is watching. You freeze in place as a hot breath makes the hairs of your coat stand on end. A stuttering growl echoes in your ears. You twitch your head and turn it slowly, avoiding any and all sudden movements. Neck turned to look behind, you see two glowing eyes two inches from your face, a grim shadow being the spheres. Their piecing gaze shatters your will outright. You shudder slightly, slowly reaching for the cleaver in your pack.

All at once, the shadow shrieks, you swing your blade, and it disappears in a rush of booming electricity. You fall to the ground, your vision flickers like static in a television. Sharp breaths escape your maw, in and out, in and out, chest heaving up and down, up and down. You glance around to try and find your friend, straining your ears to catch even a hint of her barks. Instead, you hear only the forest ambiance: the water running through in small streams, frogs croaking songs, and a lone owl hoots its note.

You call out her name, your sad, stale voice ringing out through the dark woods, receiving nothing but the same sound reverberating through the air in an echo. Small tears wet your face, trickling down your striped muzzle. Louder you cry, but nothing follows. Louder, once more. Nothing. Your hooves slam against the grass as you break out in a blind run, frantically calling out again and again for the only friend you still remember. Canters sound throughout the forest as your ebony hooves strike loud and hard against the loamy earth. Crows scatter in your wake as you barrel across the dew slicked blades that yield to your course. A will like a mustang's fiery power floods your veins as you tread onward through the forest. The shadows of deer run parallel to you, lining your path with faint flashes of black silhouettes.

You skid to a halt in another clearing, large in its breadth, in it stands an ancient castle, dilapidated from eras come and gone. The walls crumble and shiver in the wind, vines creep over them. You stare up at the clouds forming in voracious torrents above the stronghold. At your feet are tracks, small round paw paw prints fresh in the soft soil. You clench the cleaver in your teeth once more and head towards the bastion, alone.

The dark ramparts seem to cast a foreboding aura as you approach, warning you to turn back, but you press onward, following the tracks step by step. Closer and closer you draw to the fortress, and lesser the flora becomes. Your muscles tense as you feel the electricity in the air. BOOM!

The tree beside you bursts into licking flames, splinters graze across your skin. Wooden shrapnel nicks your flesh. The crackling wind hisses its disapproval at your approach. You feel the looming presence once more, breath now like molten steam licking at your neck. You dare not to look back, but press onward towards the castle—the elements vie for you to retreat—and every strand of fur stands upright at the static feel of the atmosphere. Emptiness clutches your heart as you clench your teeth harder on the handle of the cleaver; a line of spit inches down its serrated edge.

You feel your throat lurch forward as you choke down a sudden wave of tears. Instinct drives you towards the ghastly complex. The panting behind you grows louder and louder, each exhale singeing your neck with tepid breaths. The shadowy creature's image plays through your mind like clattering dice: the round, wispy ores, the heaving of air, and the blood curdling shriek. You take the risk of ignoring it, but its presence is ever there.

Your pace begins to accelerate, making your way foot by foot across the thinning mineral bridge. Three yards, two yards, one yard. At last, you breach the double doors of the castle into the depths of the castle. You refuse to turn and instead buck your hooves to bring the double doors to a close behind you, and the breathing stops. It's your turn to breathe now as you gasp and wheeze, freeing the air you held subconsciously. You spit the cleaver from your mouth and sigh, their message of sweet relief echo and clang across the deadened carapace.

Your glowing eyes skim the walls of the castle. Small torches are born by their metallic holders, the smell of tar and sulfur itch inside your nostrils. The moss creates a haphazard carpet on the dirt below you. After taking in the destitution of your surroundings, you curl into a small ball of pity and cry. You bite your lower lip in anguish and your tears come halting, soft, at low whimpers.

Yearning tugs at your huddled will and yanks at your heartstrings, and your eyes yield more and more jewels of your crestfallen status. They shatter as they plummet to the cold, earthen bed. You clutch your cleaver tight in your hooves.

A yip brings your attention to a hallway. You wipe your tears and don a contrasting expression filled with indescribable joy. You immediately run towards the source, torches dart past your vision as you bound through the halls. More and more yips disperse through the halls, and more and more your heart soars. You break out in a full run, your hooves beating out rhythms of three per cycle.

You skid to a halt with an elated smile as you spot your white companion once more, her fur shining in the moonlight of a single beam. She greets you with a few friendly barks. To you, they were like angels' voices. You couldn't help but go up to her and embrace your newly found companion, nuzzling her. She licks you once on the cheek and pants, her shining black eyes reflecting your pallid but merry expression.

A stark realization brings you to attention and you take in your new surroundings, now unfamiliar territory. With your companion on one side and your cleaver on the other, a singular thought makes itself known like a sign post in front of you: You don't know where you are.