Survivor's Curse

 Survivor's Curse

Chapter 2: The Wolf's Trial

'What the hell?!' His heart began to pound rapidly as he strained the sixth sense that he recently acquired to try and find whatever was left of the magical trail but of no use.

The labyrinth was a prison and he had just walked inside.

"No..no.. this can't be happening." I was supposed to go in, follow the trail, get a cool sword, or something. Not…this. His fingers clenched into fists, "I'm not turning back. I'll find a way out. I have to."

As he shuddered he forced his legs to move. As if the labyrinth was responding to him as if it were alive, it began to relish in the fact he was in the palm of its hands. The shadows whispered tugging away at what confidence and sanity was left.

With his palms profusely sweating he wiped them as he reminded himself:

'Focus, damn it.'

His hands trembled with sweat replacing whatever he had wiped away. The fear was consuming him just like the darkness was. All he wanted to do was just run away and leave but he couldn't. Not yet at least. He forced his feet to move. One step at a time.

Windows tinted black somehow only reflecting his features. The boy stared at the black-tinted window and his reflection stared back warped, as if space was separated from there as well. His gray hair that hung over his eyes seemed normally dull and unremarkable shimmered closely to silver through the black-tinted window. His brown eyes which were steady but upon closer look, looked more hollow consumed by the unnatural shade of his reflection. 

The tint stole some of his warmth causing him to not look like a boy but a shadow of one. A ghost in someone else's skin.

That face wasn't his. It was Alric's. He wasn't sure when that name had slipped from him, but it had. The weight of the body he possessed felt foreign. He was in someone else's flesh, someone else's bones. He stood there, fingers trembling to understand what he saw in the reflection.

No…he wasn't Alric. He was someone else instead. The body felt alien, the true possessor of the body lay dead on the Forgotten Plains. He had no memories of Alric, no ties to him, no claim to his past. Alric's body was lifeless, forgotten. And he? He was Kalen.

"I'm…Kalen." The name tasted so foreign on his lips, yet it was his name. His identity felt more real than Alric's. The boy who died. The boy who no longer existed.

He snapped out of his daze, parting away from the reflection of the black-tinted glass window. The cold air was infused with the thick scent of dust and decay. 

His steps quickened. Then- 

A bone snapped underneath his foot. 

He froze as his eyes darted downwards as he witnessed the ground littered with remains broken, some scattered or some even too big to even be a human's. His stomach felt queasy.

Then he saw it.

His eyes landed on a sword, buried at the hip of a fallen soldier. Yanking it from its sheath, revealed a sword that had been dulled by time but still intact. He wrapped his fingers around the sword with the weight sending chills down his arm. As he turned it over in his hand, his gaze fell upon the markings along the blade. Runic symbols were etched into the steel. 

"Lucian."

The name seemed to call out to him. He couldn't tell if it was because he was in the labyrinth or if the sword truly held significance but right now it didn't matter. He marveled at the opportunity that had been sent down to him. 

'A weapon. A chance to survive.'

The door creaked open, revealing a shadowed chamber beyond. As he entered, silence swallowed him whole. Before he could react, the door slammed shut, sealing him inside.

And that's when he heard it.

"Shit."

A low, husky growl.

From the darkness emerged an easily visible shape- hulking, unnatural and wrong. A wolf or whatever that thing was. Its fur was riddled with grime and something sinister and dark. Its fur was dark maybe due to the filth or just the energy that surrounded it. Its eyes burned like dying embers—filled, hollow, and famished. Worst of all, it had no sound. No dragging of its paws or any clicking sounds. It was like a born predator waiting for its hunt. 

It lunged. Its jaws snapped shut just inches from his arm as he rolled aside. He scrambled to his feet, sword raised high, breath ragged. The air grew oppressive as it pressed down on him. His breath grew heavy as he felt a crushing force weigh him down. It was like unseen hands holding him down draining his willpower and strength. 

"What…the..hell?"

His strength was draining with each second, his knees almost buckling, and Kalen realized something.

The realization had struck like ice in his veins.

Wait… this wasn't just weight. It was magic. It's pressing down on me. His fingered tighetned on the sword. "Oh, that's just great. Of course, I get stuck with a gravity-wielding nightmare."

The wolf had not just been stalking him. It was pressing down on him 

smothering him under the invisible yet tangible force. It moved deliberately slow and relaxed with its eyes gleaming with a deep, sinister light. It... it was controlling the space. The pressure was real. It was manipulating the space around me, forcing me down. 

'Just how did he do that..? I have to move. If I stop moving now, I will die.'

 With no more time to speculate, the wolf chased him, making him turn and navigate through stone pillars as he searched for a way out. But there was none. The walls loomed high, smooth and unscalable. 

He was cornered. 

The dreadful beast stalked forward with its head hung low, sniffing the air.

Kalen's eyes widened. 

'It's sniffing.'

That's when he realized. The beast was blind. It wasn't seeing him. It was sensing him through scent.

Desperation twisted into something else. He found himself letting out a small smile as he found the solution.

"Bingo."

His mind raced. If it couldn't see him then...

His hand darted down, wiping sweat from his neck. Without hesitation, he smeared the sweat on the loose piece of cloth torn from his shirt and tossed it to the side, landing behind a nearby pillar. 

The wolf's ears twitched. Its nostrils flared, its head snapping toward the fabric focusing solely on the false trail.

'That's right…follow the bait.'

The moment it lunged toward the scent, Kalen moved. Silent. Precise. Tightening his grip on the hilt, he gritted his teeth, positioning himself at the right angle. 

And then- 

He stabbed upwards.

The impact was almost immediate.

The beast shrieked out in pain and recoiled violently with its black putrid blood gushing from its ruined snout. Its only means of tracking him was now useless. 

Kalen gasped for air, muscles aching but he wasn't finished. Not yet. 

Now the hunter had become the hunted. 

The boy gritted his teeth as he tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword. With inky blood falling onto his arms, Kalens's muscles screamed yet he stood firm brimming with resolve. 

This time he wouldn't run.

He grinned, bloodied sword in hand.

"Your move."