My stomach squirms as if it wants to devour itself. My hands tingle, and it’s heat warms my head.

  “Up.” I say to myself. “Up!” I shout to the soldiers. Arlong follows my gaze, but observes nothing. He turns to me for a second and orders me to open fire.

  Fireballs pulse through the mist and explode next to the white, but nothing responds.

  “Attack!” I say.

  Arlong observes the movements next to me and raises his shield into the darkness. He moves his eyes from one place to another, but Arlong takes control and orders a cease fire with a signal. He stares at me.

  “What are you doing? Where is he?”

  My gaze wanders over the land and through the woods. The trees rustle like in a great storm, my hands sweat and my feet sink.

  The trees rustle.

  “Something's wrong. He-”

  Sank?

  I stare at my feet. They tingle as worms and insects spread inside my boots and then inside my skin. I clench my teeth as I notice the blood leaking and the sharp burning of my leg.

  Soldiers step up to avoid being pulled in. Elron is the first to break free, pulling some other soldiers off the edge and freeing them before the weight of the iron drowns them.

  At supernatural speed, the other soldiers are pulled under and conjure their spells to try to free themselves. Their voices are interrupted by the insects, their arms submerged by the muddy sand.

  Something rustles in the trees.

  That feeling-

  I inhale, conjure and stretch out my hand to the shade of a tree.

  “Umbra!” I shout.

  As if in a tug-of-war against Aldwyn's dominance, I pull the shadow of a tree towards me and feel the relief of carnage as it devours all the insects before they reach my thigh. I squeeze its composition, imagining every part of its structure solidifying, just as Morgana had taught me.

  I manipulate the iron-solid shadow so that it pulls me out of the quicksand, narrowly missing my feet, then I cling to the tree I've taken the shadows from and expel the wet earth from my body. I feel the sorcerers' mana and extend the shadows to pull them out of the mud before they drown.

  Arlong escapes from the sand, and together with sorcery and the strongest soldiers, they take out the rest of the soldiers while dispersing into the forest so as not to be dragged away.

  I inhale as I recover and help the nearby soldiers get back on their feet. They stare at me and walk away, so I let them remain in peace while I walk away and wander my gaze to check on the situation in the camp.

  Of the fifteen soldiers, twelve have entered the forest. Of those twelve, only seven are in my vision.

  I nod and wait for Arlong and Frederic's orders to be carried out and the soldiers to gather in the middle of the forest, careful to not lose sight of the pillar. Something beats in my heart as I realize the state of the soldiers.

  Dirty, they take deep breaths to catch their breath and cleanse themselves, their voices hoarse from the screams they've thrown up trying to outrun the storm. Exhausted by the use of magic to get through the forest, their spells begin to fail, and they lose their technique like a warrior who has been fighting for a long time.

  Mainly, however, their number. Of the twelve who entered the forest, only nine remain. Frederic frowns and looks around. “Where are Pietro, Magnus and Ortho?”

  Elron looks around for his companions. He turns to his father and shakes his head in the negative.

  “They must have gotten lost in the forest. We'll do a search.”

  “Now?” I say.

  Arlong frowns. “Do you have a problem with saving lives, Sieghart?”

  “The sun is almost down and the pillar is a few meters away. That could be a trick to throw us off.”

  “Trick or not, we'll lose them if we do nothing. We've come this far, Aldwyn's weakness won't stop us.” He says. “Get ready! We're going back!”

  “Back?” Elron says. “Which way?”

  Frederic observes the trees. A black tree stretches out from the path we came from and obstructs the passage alongside bushes and vines. Behind us, the forest fades to the horizon and the soil softens into worm-infested clay. The general hesitates; his doubt shows in his gaze, and he rages against the senselessness, but his reason understands that he doesn't have to do it.

  “What's that?”

  The trees rustle.

  Faced with the blindness of the fog, the fatigue of the struggle for survival and the annoyance of the worms, something dives into the quicksand that is approaching and shaking the surrounding ground.

  That feeling-

  The snapping wood rises like a bipedal beast, unaffected by the force pulling it into the depths. On the contrary, the beast anchors itself to the wet ground like a firm rock and towers over the soldiers as tall as three men. Its four long, thin arms of rotten wood are lodged in the decomposed body of a jaguar. A goat's head with four eyes is sewn onto its torso, half of its face in bone.

  Swords and spears dig into his skin, signs of the failed struggles of trying to stop fate; the faces of agony and the blood marks that have lodged serve as a reminder of despair. In each of his hands, a different instrument of death: two spears in each upper limb, an axe in his right claw and a club of jagged bones in his left.

  Arlong's hands tremble. For a moment, as the wet earth reveals the face of the inevitable, the warriors who shouted their glory have had their spirits killed and buried by the terror of the death of their comrades. Once gone, they are thrown like animals to rot in the ground below.

  Lugnir, the only magic sword in Dufae's possession, flashed against the general's face. Fear turns to anger. Rage into strength. A scream echoed as the monster advanced.

  “ALDWYN!”

  The warriors raise their shields and advance to protect the general. The beast smashes one of them to the side and throws him meters into the air before he falls and groans in pain. The iron of the weapon doesn't break, but it crumples around his arm.

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  Arlong counterattacks and slashes with his sword, but the creature retreats and spins to dodge the gunners' fireballs. It faces everyone on the field as it spins and throws mud through the mist to further obstruct the soldiers' view, then leaps at the southern soldiers the furthest apart. Screams echo through the mist as the spells fail and the warriors' vision is replaced by white blindness.

  How will you escape in one piece this time?

  A vision.

  “Ifrit,” I begin the incantation. The gunners, prevented from using their magic constantly, seek protection behind the scattered warriors and the observers, who are now trying to save themselves. Arlong draws the beast's attention and battles against it, his blade pulsing against the iron of the axe and withstanding its pressure.

  He strikes back, tearing the air horizontally and lacerating half the creature's hand. Elron sneaks up behind him, a yellow streak tearing the tendons in his knee and forcing him to falter in his step -- but the boy's efforts are not enough.

  “Maelstorm,” I say and draw the shapes around me as I move my body. The air heats up and concentrates, sparks bubble around me. Flames explode in the midst of the movements, the expression increasing in power.

  Soldiers die and are thrown into the air. I lose sight of Arlong and Elron as I concentrate not to let Chaos or Aldwyn's dominance affect me. I breathe in as I see blood flying through the air and, in a few minutes, five soldiers die.

  But we were trained together, and they knew my strength. I see the soldiers give up the attack and throw themselves to the ground in the face of danger to seek shelter. Like a mosquito ignored until it sucks all its blood, the creature finally turns to me and realizes my presence.

  “IGNITE!” The voice rips through my throat just as fire rips through the air. The fireball blazes through the forest and explodes in a flash that burns half of its body.

  Thrown against the trees and impaled on the forest itself, the creature loses its strength and writhes against the ground. I inhale and ignore the exhaustion to advance on the creature. Now that the surprise has been sprung, I'll soon have my head chopped off. Of course, I don't plan to let it survive for that.

  “Umbra!” I snatch the shadows from Aldwyn's hand and shape them into a spear. I take the spear and, together with the manipulation and intensification of my strength, I throw them at the fallen creatures. One, two, three, four.

  I expand its tips and intensify its weight until the shots that rip through the air seem to be powered by gunpowder. Pieces of the creature are torn off on impact and its body pierced, but without the sense of pain, it gets up and throws itself at me.

  The unstoppable roar comes closer, but the light of the magic blade intercepts it and makes it dodge Arlong's tear. From behind, the soldiers surround her and drive their weapons into her other tendon and make her bleed with a burst of arrows.

  The creature trembles. Not from pain or fear, but from the silver tips of the arrows and the cold iron of the blades. Its connection with Aldwyn is weakened and, for the first time, the courage of the soldiers overcomes its fear. She staggers as they advance with bursts of arrows. Elron cuts off her right arm, Arlong her left.

  Frederic drives a spear into its lung and prevents it from oxygenating its movements. Overloaded, the beast spins on its own axis and brings its club down on his right hand. The weapon collides with his shield and sends him spinning in the air before falling into the wet mud, where he screams for help and distracts his companions.

  I manipulate the shadow to grab it and throw it back into the field, then I shape it into chains and prepare to throw them at the beast, but I stop.

  Why did I stop?

  A feeling. Different from the others. The same one I've felt since I entered the forest. Blood flies through the air and hits the ground. Blood flies through the air and hits the ground. Blood flies through the air and hits the ground. Again, again, again and again.

  My arm—where's my arm?

  I look down. I turn the chain of shadows in my hand and see claws hacking away at flesh. Last time, he had been pulled to rebuild himself. My leg, stuck in the quicksand, had to be rebuilt from scratch.

  Nostalgia. This feeling is nostalgia.

  The sensations spread along with the memories, and the lucidity of the chaos reveals the truth I feared so much: I've been here before.

  I face the pillar, and then the creature. Sensing my intention, the beast exchanges glances with me for a single second before giving up on its targets and launching itself at me. Instead of advancing, I invest against the bright horizon and go deep into the woods.

  The warriors are after her. Binding him with chains would make him use them against me. Instead, I drill through the formation past the artillerists and observers here and there. I use the shadows to grab their bodies and reposition them through the woods so they don't get caught by the monster, then I group them together so they're not alone. Finally, I lure the beast into the clearing in the center of the forest.

  Elron is thrown against a log and his back snaps as if it were breaking on the wood. Arlong stands firm in his advance, Lugnir repels the bone club and strikes back with the axe, but the spear penetrates through the shield and pierces his shoulder in a lethal advance.

  Instead of ripping its head off, the creature pushes and cuts other soldiers to try to get closer to me. The formation takes advantage of the distraction, but its size doesn't match its agility. The creature dances through the forest as if bewitched, its animal-like presence twirling, leaping and swinging through the trees.

  Close. So close. So-

  A figure passes over my head and narrowly misses me. Collapsing in a thud, the creature roars and explodes its club against the shadow that - just barely - protects me. I feel the pressure pass from the dark layer that surrounds me to my flesh and blind me for an instant. My knees weaken and fall to the ground as my ears close to anything other than static.

  The sun is almost down.

  Last time, my limbs were severed. Without the moon to rebuild my body, the Charon reaper watches me from the edge of the horizon. Iron moves through the woods to intercept the creature, but it raises its axe once more.

  Ah. I had forgotten.

  Clear as day, the memories of my death come back to me. No, the complete opposite. Firstly, they don't come back, because they were already here, stored away in the mind I couldn't clear, hidden by the secrets I struggled to obtain.

  The small drop of Chaos that resides within Aldwyn's mana is exposure enough. The more I fight, the more I understand what lies in the depths.

  Yes, a preparation for what is to come. Now, after years of suffering through sleepless nights, I realize that the Unknown was not only made for what was, but also for what is to come.

  An attack. The creature forces its axe through the red aura that protects my hand, but its pulse weakens. Blood falls, but I don't care. Energy runs through my arm like fire, but it doesn't burn.

  Chaos applies its effect to everything that touches my mana, and if I master it, I also choose what it will be. Whether through inexperience or the innate paradox that is the domain of randomness, a “group” of effects is the most I can filter.

  “Chaos,” I say. “Disorder.”

  The aura that surrounds me leaks out into the environment and expands. Plants wither, trees turn to dust, the sand solidifies and writhes as if screaming for life. Above all, the axe blade liquefies and falls to the ground.

  Aldwyn's beast staggers—but I wouldn't let it get away. I walk up to the creature while letting the environment—now free of soldiers—wither to death. Unable to keep control of his mana, the power that held the chimera's parts together, Aldwyn lets the creature perish on the ground.

  I inhale, then look back while—unfortunately—I stop channeling. Arlong observes his surroundings before chanting his victory, pointing his blade at every shape and sound he hears behind the mist. He approaches Frederic and asks how many have lost, then they discuss the next step as I make my way to the obelisk.

  He calls me. He begs me. I let the men look after their own affairs. People like me rarely have anything to do with peasant rules, after all.

  White pillars bear the paintings and warnings of men who lived before the forest was a forest. Seals of creatures that have gone before, animals I've never seen outside of dreams; treasures from a lost world of yesteryear.

  “You turned the forest, didn't you?” I say to the monolith as I walk. The soldiers' voices trail off and orders become whispers. “You wanted to get us lost. Invading the Unknown was your method of preventing me from controlling myself that day, wasn't it? Did you know that I would win? Were you also able to predict what happens?”

  In front of me, at the end of the labyrinth, the monolith rises above the earth. An ancient amber pillar surrounded by black vines and thorns holds the silhouette of what once looked like a man.

  “Why?” I say. “Why do we see the future, Aldwyn? What does this have to do with Chaos? Unless it doesn't have to do with Chaos, but with what Chaos wants us to think? You promised to join me in a hand gesture, didn't you? Is this the representation of my answers? Did you know I'd come this far? I memorized your labyrinth. I survived. So many doubts. So many answers.”

  “So many…”

  Something shines in my eyes. For a moment, I thought it was the blue of Arlong's sword and that his betrayal had finally been completed. But it wasn't the warrior who had betrayed me. On the contrary, the light reflects silver on the ground.

  The warriors rush towards me, their voices finally breaking through my deafness. War cries. Cries of danger.

  The night has come.