UNITY

Chase had not slept that night, or the night after, or even the night after that. He had been awake for the last three nights when he realized something was wrong.

He had been walking without rest—from the moment the sun rose above the tree line until the moon threatened to show itself over the horizon.

His legs felt like lead, his thoughts sluggish and fragmented, but he forced them into coherence.

He had gotten quite used to the slithering of serpent-like beasts, the cawing of terrible bird-like monsters, and the terrible voices that spoke rarely at the back of his mind.

However, the forest had grown deafeningly quiet in recent hours. Chase had noticed that even the rare streams and rivers of the Dark Forest had ceased to let out even the slightest noise.

That night, Chase used his fourth match—out of the twenty that had been in the crushed box residing in the pocket of his backpack.

He sat on the lowest branch of a much smaller tree than the one he had spent the night on during his first night.

Chase also pulled out a handful of small lime-green berries. As the boy lit the match against his own arm, he ate a small berry and recoiled from the terrible taste.

The berries were not good at all; however, they were also one of the only non-poisonous foods in the Dark Forest that wasn't monster meat.

The forest, Chase had found out, was not only full of monsters and illusions but was also one big non-flammable object.

At least, everything that was considered part of the forest was unable to catch fire.

Because of this, he had started the flames against his own skin and used his own items as firewood.

Currently, one of Chase's books that he had already read was silently burning away atop the tree branch.

As he ate the vile berries, he heard a slight whisper in the shadows behind him, where the trunk of the tree resided.

He did not turn. In fact, he just ignored the voice and continued to eat.

...

The next day, Chase walked under the dark roof of the towering forest. Once again, he had not slept at all that night.

He silently stepped over a large root inside the forest.

Suddenly, Chase heard the faint whisper once again.

"Do it…"

The voice sounded as if it came from a young woman. It was a soft voice but had a strange tone that reminded Chase of the very definition of bloodlust.

"You can escape so much, Chase. Just use the dagger."

He struggled to ignore the voice, which continued to grow louder and louder. He continued to walk in the direction he could only hope was northeast.

He recalled the beautiful phoenix dagger that sat at the bottom of his backpack.

Chase shook the terrible thought away and continued to walk.

...

After about thirty minutes of walking, the voices returned.

This time, it was the voice of a young man, full of sadness. It was a higher-pitched voice and somehow seemed familiar.

"Turn back, Chase. There is still time…"

Chase stopped and quickly pulled the small dagger from his bag.

He hurled the dagger in the direction of the voice.

A loud noise erupted through the silent air as the dagger stuck into the trunk of a nearby tree.

Chase waited patiently in the silence, watching the small spot on the tree.

"Hey! I finally found you."

An exhausted yet eerily familiar voice could be heard from behind the boy.

Chase's tired expression cracked as he flinched from the man's voice.

He turned slowly.

What stood hunched over against a tree with a soft smile on his face was Chase's own father.

The orange-haired man smiled at Chase as he wiped sweat from his sickly forehead.

"You made it. I'm proud."

His father said this while stretching his arms.

Chase quickly walked over to his dagger, still impaled in the tree, and removed it carefully.

He looked down at the dagger, only to notice that his own hands were trembling violently as he refused to loosen his grip on the small blade.

"Come, Chase. West is the way—the academy waits for you," Blaze said, scratching the back of his head.

A tiny grin crept onto the boy's face as he continued to watch the sweat from his own forehead drip onto the topaz dagger.

It was really the monster's fault for choosing that man, of all people, to turn into.

Chase walked over to his father and smiled.

"Let's go, Father."

Blaze nodded and began walking west.

Chase trailed slightly behind the brightly colored man.

The dagger twisted in his grip, a thousand doubts screaming in his mind. But as "Blaze" turned with that too-perfect smile, Chase's hands moved of their own accord. The dagger flew true, embedding itself with a sickening thud.

As his father was about to speak, the topaz dagger had ripped straight through the man's chest.