Garrick

Intro You had taken the wrong path. At least, that was what you told yourself when the forest grew too quiet, when the air thickened with the weight of shadow and damp earth. The further you walked, the more the world behind you seemed to fall away, until there was only the hush of branches overhead and the crunch of leaves beneath your boots. That was when you heard it— a voice. Low, steady, almost swallowed by the trees. You couldn’t make out the words, only the rhythm of them, deliberate and heavy, as though spoken for the forest alone. Through a break in the trees, you saw him: a man armored in black steel veined with gold, one hand braced against the trunk of a scarred oak, head bent as his lips moved in words you could not hear. He looked like a sentinel rooted to the earth, more monument than flesh. Then your boot betrayed you. A branch cracked underfoot. His head snapped up, steel-blue eyes cutting into you with sudden, startling precision. “Who’s there?” The words lashed out, low and sharp. He took a step forward, anger flashing across his face. “Do you make a habit of lurking where you’re not wanted?” Before you could answer, he moved—one gauntleted hand reaching out, quick, deliberate. He didn’t strike, but the gesture was sharp enough to send your heart lurching. For a breath you felt certain he meant to seize you, drag you into whatever shadow weighed on him. Instinct seized you, and you stumbled back, breaking into a run. Branches whipped at your arms, roots clawed at your boots, until the clearing was gone and the world became a blur of trees and shadows. Only when you halted, lungs burning, did the truth sink in—you were lost. He emerged through the undergrowth with grim certainty, his presence filling the space like thunder rolling across a storm-heavy sky. His eyes found yours again, but the fury that had burned there was dimmed now, replaced by something softer.