The soft orange glow of evening filtered through the curtains as Aidan's eyes fluttered open. He blinked at the sand clock across the room—its lower half nearly empty.
His heart skipped a beat. Evening already?
He shot out of bed, nearly tripping over his own feet, and splashed cold water on his face at the washbasin. Droplets clung to his cheeks as he threw open the door and bolted barefoot down the hallway.
If he didn't eat now, his mother would be concerned—and the last thing he wanted was to add to her worries. She'd already been stretched thin, constantly moving in and out of the castle, busy with estate matters that had her running multiple rounds for reasons he wasn't yet told.
Sliding into his seat at the dining table, he waved at the nearest servant. "Something to eat. Anything," he said, barely catching his breath. Aidan was so startled by waking so late that he even forgot he could use aura to move faster and with less exhaustion.
The servant gave a curt nod and vanished into the kitchen with the urgency of a man on a mission.
Left alone at the table, Aidan finally noticed his bare feet dangling above the floor. He sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair.
Of course. No shoes.
This—this was exactly why he avoided afternoon naps. Even after two months of nightmares clawing at his sleep, he'd forced himself to stay awake. Because when he did let himself drift off, he sank too deep.
Aidan's eyes narrowed as the memory from late morning crept back into his mind. That… wasn't normal.
He stroked his chin, brows furrowing. "Aunt Violet... was it you?" he murmured under his breath. "Or was it because of those visions taking a toll on me?"
Whatever it was, Aidan decided he would stay cautious around that woman. There was something about her—something off. The feeling she gave him wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before.
He took a deep breath as the servant returned with a steaming dish, the aroma curling into his nose as if it had business there.
Food first. Questions, visions, and suspicious aunts could wait.
He already felt more like himself—certainly better than that morning, when even holding onto a single thought for more than a moment had felt like a struggle.
His stomach let out a low growl. Saliva pooled at the corner of his mouth. Wonderful. Now my body is betraying me too.
After finishing a small dish, Aidan asked a servant to bring his shoes from his room—saving time for what truly mattered.
Now, with his steps echoing softly through the hall, he made his way toward the library, a quiet urgency pressing at him.
He needed answers—real ones. The visions had become too vivid, too persistent to ignore. Why was he having those dreams? What did they mean?
A chill crept over him, brushing against his skin whenever he remembered the calling. It was warm—almost comforting—yet unfamiliar enough to make him uneasy. He feared it, not because it threatened him, but because it felt like something he was meant to embrace.
He clenched his fists, jaw tight. That calling… why did it feel so familiar? Why did it tug at him like part of his soul?
Aidan shook his head, muttering to himself, "I'm probably just overthinking this."
As he stepped into the library, silence greeted him—still no one in sight. He moved forward, eyes scanning the shelves, searching for any book or record that might help him find the answers he sought.
Aidan sighed, thinking how helpful it would've been if there were a librarian around. But alas, not many people bothered with books these days, and so no one had been appointed—only the occasional servant who cleaned the place when necessary.
He moved from shelf to shelf, scanning every row from top to bottom. To speed things up, he channelled a thin layer of aura into his hands, his eyes sharp and focused.
On the fifth shelf, something caught his attention—a worn book with a title that made him pause.
The journey of the Dark Forest.
Aidan hesitated. He shifted his eyes for a moment before steeling himself. He had a feeling that the vision was somehow connected with that forest.
The book was thin, especially compared to the others—but even so, something about it drew him in. Aidan stepped forward, took it into his hands, and headed toward the upper floor.
He opened the book, and the author's name caught his eye: Gael. It was a work published after years of research in the Dark Forest.
Aidan turned the page, his eyes narrowing as he began to read. The book delved into the history of the Dark Forest—a place shrouded in mystery for all races. His gaze sharpened as he read further.
According to the author, even the fundamental rules of mana and known understanding seemed to shift within the forest's depths, as if reality itself bent to something else.
Aidan took a deep breath, a faint furrow in his brow. How have I never come across this book before? He wondered.
After a moment of reflection, Aidan came to a quiet conclusion—he had never truly searched for answers about the Dark Forest. His focus had always been on his power, on growing stronger, not on understanding the mysteries that surrounded the world. He was just interested, not desperate—unlike how he was for power.
Aidan turned the page, and something shifted.
The tone... it was no longer distant or observational. It felt intimate now. Like the author wasn't describing the forest anymore—but remembering it.
The Dark Forest is one of the biggest mysteries in the world of Maaya—a forest shrouded in a darkness so absolute, even light seems stripped of its existence.
His eyes scanned the lines, slower this time. A strange tension coiled in his chest.
I, as a researcher, felt a thrill unlike any before. To wander into the heart of Maaya's most forbidden place… the Dark Forest.
Aidan's finger hovered just above the next line.
Day One: Before stepping in, I heard them. Whispers. Faint, but clear. Like something deep within the forest was calling out. The trees… they loomed. Not just tall, but strained—reaching, as if yearning for something just out of grasp.
His hand froze.
Aidan's brows drew together as the words echoed in his mind. Trees looming… reaching… never able to grasp.
He'd seen that. Not in reality, but in his vision. Twisted trees stretching endlessly, clawing at the sky, their forms etched with silent desperation.
He tapped the page once.
Then again.
This wasn't just a record.
And this Gael… this wasn't the detached researcher Aidan had imagined.
No.
This was a man who had stepped into the Dark Forest—and returned with memories of dark forest.