The swamp ahead smelled of rot on all sides. Stale air, heavy with vapours, made breathing difficult. The man painfully pulled his leg out of the thick mud that squelched loudly. He withdrew back to where the earth was not saturated with moisture. A deep sigh escaped his chest. His black hair was damp with sweat and mist, he brushed it from his eyes. The wayfarer looked around at what lay in front of him.
The surroundings looked inconspicuous, which made it all the more threatening: in actuality it was a death trap with no way out. Numerous sheets of water, reflecting in the dim light, hid hollows several metres deep, intertwined with scraps of ground covered with grass, and sometimes with larger shrubs and old trees, encircled by boggy soil. A multitude of plants and trees growing out of the treacherous ground and the dim light camouflaged the danger perfectly.
The man turned his back to that dismal scene; his path had to lie elsewhere, anything would be more accommodating than this. He went in an unknown direction. Several days of trying to find a way out of this forest had been met without much success. The old trees with broken trunks were each unique in their ragged appearance, which made their creeping sense of familiarity unsettling. While looking for the smallest hint of a trail, he stumbled over a hard object. At first he thought it was a rocky outcrop, but soon saw that he was wrong. It was distinguished from its organic setting by its unusually smooth appearance. The flat surface of metal reflected the faint glow of the grey sunlight breaking through the dense canopy. He bent down and began to brush the dirt from the inscrutable object with his bare hands. He saw an old chest made entirely of a black metal, forgotten by its previous owner. Surprisingly, it was not tarnished by rust, only caked with mud, dried roots and other plant debris. It glowed with a stygian charm.
The man inspected the strange object more closely. It had a lock, the key to which was nowhere to be found. Intrigued, he nevertheless tried to open the chest. To his surprise, the lid creaked softly: the mechanism had been left ajar. In the folds of a black cloth decorated with patterns of silver thread, a ring lay unassumingly.
It looked beautiful. The jet black stone, shaped like a narrow diamond, reflected the diffuse light of the surroundings. Unadorned, it alone was attached to a silver band. Runes covered the pale metal. The man did not know the language in which they were written and doubted that there was anyone who could read them. He was about to touch it and take a closer look at it, but he pulled back at the last moment. The item looked magical.
It was probably mysteriously powerful, which was characteristic of things decorated with ancient runes or symbols unknown to anyone. It was also obvious that the objects endowed with power and created by the creatures of the darkness were the mightiest of all, even more than the masterpieces of the angels themselves. This was partly because the forces of evil were able to strengthen objects by cruel methods that no being with a noble heart would have used. However, the forces of light were able to lean on their virtue to hold their own against their enemies.
So, this object was created by an entity that came from darkness. The man recognised it by means of the known properties of magical objects. If it were otherwise, there would not be a single black element on the ring, let alone a gemstone of that colour. He closed the lid with a snap. The wanderer was about to bury the crate deeper than he found it, but something stopped him. Gradually, the presence of a powerful being was emerging. Slowly looking ahead, he suspected what was about to happen.
Dark vapours were gathering over the ground beside him, as if escaping from it. They began to form a humanoid figure. In turn, black garments embellished with runes materialised, sometimes bright green, sometimes rotten green. A large hood covered the face of the mighty entity. The man was almost certain there was only a black abyss within the cradle of cloth. The hands, surprisingly, were material. A long claw grew at the end of each of the fingers.
“Hello, stranger”, he said. “It is unexpected to see someone in these parts. Rarely does anyone venture here, and even if they do, they do not get far.”
The figure paused, waiting for an answer, but did not hear one. The man was not going to tell him that he had gone astray, or lie, or reveal anything of the truth. Beings like this could easily distinguish the honesty of statements and, in particular, recognise a lie. He also did not plan to offer his hand in return. The entity spoke again, its hand still lingering between them.
“I see you found the ring. I am relieved to know it. To me, it is a superfluous gem. It irritated me that it was stuck in the ground, forgotten. It is beautiful, is it not?”
“Yes,” the man said shortly, but did not open the lid.
“You can take it with you. I do not need it. Here” he pointed with his outstretched hand to the area “I have found peace, and only this disturbs me. But it will be useful to you. It will make you immortal and so powerful that your enemies will tremble when they hear your name. What is the name they will fear?”
There was an awkward silence. The man put down the crate. Without a word, he started walking along the marshes. The apparition, hovering in the air, followed him noiselessly.
“You do not know what you are forsaking,” he said. “With its help, you would be the ruler of the world. With one wave of your hand, all riches would be yours. Maybe you want to leave this place?”
The being overtook him, blocking his way. Staring closely, the entity sensed that the wayfarer was in silent agreement. Though he was doing his best to evade the interaction, the spectral figure did not allow him to succeed.
“Wear the ring. Then you will know your way back. Otherwise you will wander here for ages until you die.”
So that is it, the man thought. If I put it on, he will take control of me, possess me, enter my mind. Then, and only then, will this being be able to leave the forest, which probably served as its prison. The man concluded his thoughts and resolved to avoid the great danger that lay ahead. He withdrew from the antagonising presence.
“I do not covet your ring. I am satisfied without it, and I prefer it to stay that way.”
“You are not.” he said, “Otherwise why would you venture this way?” he paused for a moment. “Would you like to face death?”
The wanderer with all his might restrained himself from denying it. He did not leave his home and his loved ones to fall into the snares he saw. After dreaming of his destiny, the man knew that he had been chosen to fight evil. His current task was to find the others. Therefore, on the morning he woke up, he left a short message on the table. It went like this: “I have been elected. Do not worry about me”. He only took weapons with him: a dagger, a sword, three metal stars, and a magic amulet that may one day save his life. He set off on his journey at dawn. He did not even take any extra clothes with him, what he was wearing then must have been enough for him. He had come a long way to complete the task entrusted to him.
He tried to avoid the apparition as if it did not exist, but it impeded him at every step. The shadowy adversary realised that he was dealing with a rational victim, and so changed tactics.
“If you fail to wear the ring, unfortunate things will begin to happen. The road you are looking for,” he pointed to the quagmire, “is on the other side of the marshes. You will not be able to cross them without my help.”
The man doubted it. He had suspected before that if there was a path, it would be through this dangerous area. But he was determined to get through it.
“So it has come to this… Well, then… I will convince you another way.”
The being raised a hand. The water gurgled. Folds of mud shifted, creating filthy waves. The vegetation moved, and the leaves rustled. A curved spine slowly emerged, with long, thin, black spines. The skin was slimy with a dark green tint. There was plant debris or hair on it. A massive head appeared with huge jaws and protruding teeth. The red eyes glowed with bright light. The creature snarled, then started to open its mouth. The man smelled rot.
He closed his eyes. It was just as he had expected. His opponent had a greater power than he first imagined. In order to get away, he had to do what he was not inclined to. He looked closely at the half-running, swimming, and crawling beast. It was too big for a man to overcome with his weapons. It is true that he had a few more magic tricks in his arsenal, but he preferred not to reveal his hand to the enemy. Despite the loud splashing, he focused. In a moment, his skin was covered with jet black fur, his nails turned into hard, sharp claws. His ears took on a triangular shape, moving to the top of the head. His nose became flat and black, his teeth turned into long fangs. He grew whiskers and a long tail, his feet changed their shape, and his eyesight and hearing sharpened.
The were-cat ran towards the monster, but did not attack. He jumped on a branch of a young tree, and then on a rotten trunk. The young plant he had just been on had been shattered by a mighty tail. He started jumping on stable objects. The creature, as he had expected, was not the fastest. In moments, the were-cat had crossed the swamp, leaving the beast far behind. He stood on firm ground. He started running forward. Unable to navigate the coarse land,, the amphibian monster broke its pursuit.
Then the wind blew. The trees buckled. The apparition became furious.
“You cannot defeat a being as powerful as Shadow himself, mortal,” he heard a voice in the distance. It was loud and clear.
White roots burst up from the ground. One of them tied itself around the man’s leg, and he could not tear it off. More were wrapped around his arms, torso and neck. The being materialised in front of him from the fumes.
“Now you come with me. If you don’t resist, I’ll be friendlier.”
The were-cat was desperately trying to get away, but more shoots were emerging from the ground, wrapping tighter and tighter. In the end, he was pushed to the extreme. He began to shapeshift, the clothes sticking to his skin, the fabric becoming overgrown with dark fur. Hands and legs turned into paws. He fell to four limbs. In the form of a black panther, he broke free from his bonds. He ran forward, taking the form of a half human, half cat again. He jumped up a tree branch in one leap, then another and another. He kept jumping until the danger was over. Then he jumped to the ground.
“I am watching you,” he heard a voice booming like an echo. “ I will catch you … I will force you …”
The were-cat did not listen to him. Though still in the forest, he was already beyond the range of the apparition. He straightened up. The crisp forest air filled his nostrils. He listened. Soon the subtle singing of birds reached him from the distance. Following their lead, he continued his journey.
