《The False Summoned》Chapter 2

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"If I were you, I'd start moving right about now."

Silence blanketed the hill for a second as his words sunk in. Then, people moved. The Summoned gathered on the hill started running towards the forest in all directions. Some ran in groups, whilst others split up and ran by themselves. Lane hadn't expected that the ceremony would involve something this crazy right off the bat. But he couldn't afford to just throw his life away, so he too started running off towards the edge of the forest.

Because he didn't want to risk being found out by any of the Summoned, he didn't join any of the others. He didn't know much about devourers, but he was also hoping that they would prioritize hunting the groups of people first. The more people gathered together, the more prey for the devourers to feast upon. From what he'd heard, they weren't the kind of monsters that only hunted the weak. He didn't care too much if the Summoned died anyways. There were more than enough of them in this world as it was, and they couldn't die for real either. They'd just be sent back instead.

Better they than me.

There were a few other people who had run in the same direction as him. None of them paid any attention to him as they moved deeper into the forest. His main focus right now was getting as far away as possible from those devourers, so he kept running. He ran straight for what must have been at least twenty minutes before he had to stop to take a rest. As he bent over and wiped some of the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, he glanced about around him. He couldn't see any other people close by, nor any traces of the devourers.

They had to have been released by now, but he had no way of knowing if one was chasing him or not. He didn't even know what they looked like. All he had to go off of was what he'd heard from other people in town, and a few off-hand comments from Summoned when he worked at the inn. The devoured were grotesque-looking creatures that smelled horrible and ate people. He also knew that they were fast. But that was all. He looked around him one more time just to be safe before he started running again. He didn't have the time to rest for long.

And so, Lane kept moving deeper and deeper into the forest as the sun gradually crossed the sky and started disappearing behind the distant mountains. When the sun had disappeared completely, darkness blanketed the forest. If it weren't for a few of the moons' rays making it through the thicket of the treetops, he wouldn't even have been able to see his own hand.

Several small cuts and bruises covered his body as he rested against the trunk of a large tree. He hadn't been this exhausted and thirsty for a long time. Not since he and his father had escaped from a pack of gnolls several years back when they'd been out on a trip to a neighboring village.

The sound of leaves rustling caught his attention. His neck swung in the direction of the sound. Without letting out a single breath, he stared into the darkness for a whole minute before breathing out with relief when nothing appeared. Then, another sound. This time much closer.

Startled, Lane jumped up and looked around him. Another sound from behind him caused him to turn around. In the darkness, between the trees and underbrush, he saw the outlines of something. A long bent back with several large humps on it, and two long arm-like limbs that leaned on the ground.

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Lane didn't bother staying around. He had already seen enough to realize what it was. He whirled around instantly and started running with all the energy that he had left. Immediately following, something moved behind him. He didn't dare look back — fearing he might stumble and fall. Instead, he just kept running.

More movement in front of him caught his attention. Rays of moonlight shone through the coverage of the trees and revealed a disgusting-looking creature a dozen feet ahead. Just like the other creature, its back was bent and it supported itself on its long forearms. Its rotten skin was an obnoxious grey color, and it looked like it would drip off its limbs any minute now. Instead of a face, it had one large, bloodshot eye and a long thick tongue hung from its throat. Startled, Lane let out a small scream and immediately changed directions.

Running through the dark forest, the branches and brambles cutting up his skin, the sound of rustling leaves and branches being broken followed him. He wasn't stupid. Being both thirsty and hungry, and having been on the move for most of the day, he couldn't outrun these monsters for much longer. It surprised him that he'd made it this far. But he was in no shape to fight those monsters either. He had no real experience with fighting. His father was a soldier in the duchy's army, and so he'd learned the basics of how to handle a sword from him, but that was of no use to Lane now. His father had always been overprotective of his children, going against the idea of him joining the army, even with the world being how it was.

This left him with not much choice other than to keep running and pray to the gods that the monsters chasing him would somehow lose their interest. But any last traces of hope disappeared when a loud screech rang out further ahead. Despair grew in his heart as another devourer emerged in front of him, its long tongue-like appendage frantically moving about in the pale moonlight.

He hurriedly changed directions again and ran for all he was worth to widen the distance between him and the new devourer. But he soon found himself in even deeper trouble. The devourers were hunting him like a pack of wolves. One was closely following him from behind, while he spotted signs of the other two through the trees both to his right and left. It almost felt like they were herding him. Any second now, another devourer might appear, spelling his end.

Why was he this unlucky? He'd infiltrated the summoning ceremony because he hoped that—against all odds—he could find a way to gain the same power that the Summoned enjoyed. With it, not only would he be able to earn an income to support his mother and sister, but he could also help make a difference. In a world where those with power could hardly be trusted more than your local hoodlums, that felt all the more significant. Yet here he was, being hunted by three of these hideous monsters at the first test. There were many other people in this forest, yet they chose him as their prey. How was that fair? How was anything in this damn world fair? His father had been missing for half a year and his family had almost been starving for several months, and now this?

Lane lost his footing. His left foot made contact with the ground and, instead of stopping, it sunk deeper into the dirt. He fell. The world seemed to slow down almost to a halt.

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This is it. I'm going to die.

Lane was sure that, the moment he landed, the monsters would be upon him and—just like their names implied—devour him alive. Imagining the fate about the befall him horrified him, and he wanted to shout out with anger at the world that treated him like this.

But what he feared never happened.

Rather, the dirt gave way under his weight, and he kept falling. A hole opened up in the ground, leading into a pit devoid of light. A small scream was all he managed to let out before the darkness swallowed him.

The three devourers that had been hunting Lane froze. After standing there completely still for a time with their heads turned upwards—as if they were listening to the whispers of the wind—they turned around and retreated into the of the murky forest.

Lane woke up in a world of complete and utter darkness. His shoulder was pulsating from the pain of having cushioned his fall and his head felt groggy. The ground beneath him consisted of jagged stone and his body was covered with dirt. It took him a few moments before he remembered that he'd been running from the three devourers a moment ago. With a start, he jumped up and looked around him. But there was nothing but darkness. There were no monsters, nor was he dead.

What happened?

His foot had sunken into the ground and he had fallen. That should have been it. He should have hit the ground and been killed then and there. But instead, he kept falling and ended up here. He looked up. The contour of a hole could be seen a few feet above, together with what he presumed to be the branches of trees. But it was too dark to tell for sure. And sadly, it was also too high up for him to be able to climb out again. Not that he wanted to right now. Before he fell he had been hunted by three devourers. But for some reason, they hadn't followed him down here. Not leaving this place was the wisest decision at the moment. If he's lucky, they might eventually forget all about him.

Nodding to himself, Lane looked around him once again. While he couldn't see the area around him, it felt odd. The hair on his neck stood up and he was left with a feeling like he didn't belong. That feeling only grew larger as he kept looking around and took a careful step forward.

Then, he saw it.

A chilling blue glow a few feet away from him. At first, he thought he was imagining it. It wasn't there a moment ago. But no matter how many times he blinked his eyes, it didn't disappear. Instead, the glow grew stronger, more distinct.

There were two small lights. Like a pair of eyes, the lights coldly observed him in the darkness. Merely looking at them made Lane feel like his entire body had turned into ice — like the chilling winds of a blizzard were targeting him, and him alone. In front of this chilling frost, he was nothing. A speck of dust; barely worth a passing thought.

Yet despite this, the lights were calling him. Demanding for him to approach. For him to venture forward into the chilling abyss that hid behind those cold lights. The fear Lane had felt when he thought he would be killed by the devourers was nothing compared to what he felt before this presence. It was like he had been scared of a little puppy, before meeting its master. Lane knew that—no matter what—he had to escape. This overwhelming existence wasn't anything he should interfere with. Instinctually, Lane knew this.

But he still took a step forward.

Even as all the warning bells in his mind screamed at him to run away; that even fighting three devourers was better than this — he still took another step forward. He'd lost all control over his legs. The call from this presence was like the undisputed order of a king. His body was moving of its own volition; in spite of its master's will. Darkness surrounded him — all he could see were those lights.

Fear.

There were others in the darkness now. Things he didn't recognize, because nothing so terrible could exist in the world of the living. Claws tore at his back, but he lacked the ability to scream. Eyes looked at him, and he couldn't stop himself from looking back.

Another step forward, and another after that.

Anger.

People died while screaming daily. People were mistreated daily. His father had been missing for months and his mother and sister were starving. The Summoned who were supposed to save them instead treated them like they were dogs, and there was nothing he could do about it. He just wanted to change things. He wanted to help his family. So why was the damned world treating them like this? Why was the Summoned given power? Why were those blasted monsters killing everyone? What was wrong with this godforsaken world? He just wanted to watch it all burn. He wanted to watch as all of them burned. The gods. The Summoned. The royals. All of the people that let this happen. They should all burn to death—no, they should all freeze to death.

Approaching the lights slowly, he now stood within arms reach of them. The lights that had begun as a mere glow had grown in strength and were more like blazing fires now. Fires so cold that frost had started forming on Lane's arms. They lit up the area surrounding it. The fires shone through the slits of a grey helmet shaped like a crown. Looking at it made Lane feel frozen down to the bone.

Regret.

Why had he thought he could make a difference? Why had he risked everything for something so stupid? He was no one special. He knew his plan was likely to fail, but he'd been too arrogant. He wanted to help his family, but what were they going to do now without him? Why hadn't he considered that before he threw his life away on an impossible dream? It was all too late now.

Slowly, his hands reached out and touched the helmet. The skin immediately went numb, yet outwardly he showed no signs of being affected. His expression was like that of a stone statue. He had to wear it. He didn't want to, but he had to. As he turned the helmet around in his hands, a part of him was screaming inwardly to stop. To throw the helmet away and escape right this second. But his arms didn't stop moving.

Peace.

For just a moment, he felt at peace. All the hopelessness, fear, anger, and regret — for just a moment it was all washed away by a sense of serenity of unknown origin.

Without a sound, Lane lowered the helmet unto his head and the chilling fires that served as eyes erupted into an uncontrollable blizzard, engulfing everything around him.

And then, darkness ensued.

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