Chapter 2: It all started with a *Bang*

Silence reigned once again in the bleak forest. Not a bird squeaked nor a wolf howled. It was quiet, eerily so, the previously loud place filled with the panicked sounds of a struggling and confused boy was no more, and in its place lay nothing.

Minutes passed like this, in blissful quiet, that was until something broke this peace. From the side of the river where the once ignorant child marched to his imminent death, tempted by the idea of light, came a sound, one that couldn't be replicated by any resident of the horrible place, one that only a human could produce.

*Cough, Cough* From the river bank emanated a vile, waterlogged cough, murky green water bubbled in the unconscious boy's closed mouth. He was alive, though whether he would remain that way was uncertain. His body, small in stature, jolted with the sudden movement, throwing itself into the air like a ballerina only to come crashing back down with all the grace of an untrained elephant. It hurt, but this pain was good. It woke him from his otherwise eternal slumber, gave him life, or rather gave him a second chance at it, for if he remained complacent, he would die.

The boy's soaked eyelids fluttered open, bashing away the vile green liquid plastered to every inch of his exposed skin. His eyelids felt heavy while the contents underneath, the object they were meant to shield, burnt. His hollow brown eyes were bloodshot, damaged by the exposure. They hurt him. They irritated him to no end, he wanted to cry, to rip them out and be done with the pain, but that wasn't the only thing that hurt the child. In fact, the pain in his eyes paled in comparison to the raging whirlwind of fire that brewed in his stomach. Water had managed to lodge its way down his every orifice, its scalding, illness-ridden body taking root down his trachea before finally finding lodgings in his lungs. It hurt to breathe, like fire; his lungs burnt. Every movement riddled the child with unbearable pain that he wished would end. Though he knew he would never be granted such a blessing by merely sitting around, he had to do something, and luckily for him, his body was already taking the necessary precautions to ensure his survival.

His body lurched upwards, propelled by a scalding sensation akin to acid, he was awake, and he was up. The only thing he had to do now was open his sealed lips. *gurgh* Like a dam had burst, nebulous green water spilt forth with all the force of a canon from the boy's open mouth. The water felt like knives against his respiratory tract. It scratched. It clawed at every piece of the boy's exposed innards as though it wanted to leave its mark upon the child's flesh, an engraving, a story about its fleeting existence one the boy would be forced to recount until his dying days.

Still, this wasn't the last of the water. In fact, it was only the beginning. With every cough, every failed gasp, more and more of the horrific liquid spilt from the child's open lips and onto the multicoloured flooring underneath. Minutes passed this way. It was torturous like the world had it out for the poor child. The water appeared endless, that was until it stopped. It didn't go out with a bang, but rather a whimper, a few meek coughs, and that was all. The boy was now free of this curse. Though whether this was a good thing remained a question to be debated for aeons to come.

His hollow brown eyes, highlighted with a bloodshot iris and filled with tears, shook at the final propulsion. It was only then, after clearing his system, that the boy began to question his circumstances. Had he not fallen into the river, had he not spent his final breath amongst the mass of murky green, how was he here, alive and for the better part, well. He should be dead. The boy knew that, yet he was breathing, and though his body felt wet and cold to the touch, he knew he wasn't dead. He couldn't comprehend the idea.

Where was he? How did he manage to flee from the strange creature that had it out for him, was he saved? Did he do this himself? If he did, he had no recollection of performing such an action, such questions may have filled the boy's mind if he was even the slightest bit more worldly or even human, yet in the child's befuddled brain, no such actions transpired. Instead, his body simply moved, to the nearest thing that attracted his interest, that being the odd cushion that pressed against his exposed body. It didn't feel like the hollow yet padded texture of grass. It was plumper, more springy to the touch. It rebelled against his body's relatively light weight like it was trying to push him away.

He just had to see what he lay upon, what his bed was made of, and like clockwork, his body responded to his heart's call. Immediately his head that previously hovered aimlessly directed itself down to the bedding underneath. That was when he saw it, colours that didn't belong in this monochrome world of greens and greys. They were simply beautiful. He felt his heart, cold and fragile, skip a beat at the sight. This was something new, like the light he had seen earlier. The new stimulus enraptured the child's empty mind. It filled it with delusions of warmth despite the chilling cold that nipped at his body. What the boy lay upon was not a field of grass but rather a lot of flowers. There were too many to count, not like the child would have counted them anyway, for he was too lost in their multi-colour brilliance. There were reds the colour of blood, yellows that filled both his body and soul with the warm radiance of the sun, purples and blues the likes of which the child couldn't even comprehend.

Still, though the bed of flowers appeared glorious, its existence left more to be explained, for it did not occupy an entire field but rather a human-shaped patch. This outline perfectly matched the dainty body of the boy who now observed the area with a weird distance. Even he knew the flower bed's creation was odd. It wasn't here originally. He was still by the lakeside. He could still see that devilish beam of light that brought him oh so close to death. He would have seen it before. The boy was sure of it. He had no doubt the areas' many colours would have freed him from the light's temptations, and yet, it didn't. This land, not even half an hour earlier, had been part of the same monochrome world in which the rest of the forest resided.

It was strange. The boy wanted to know more, though he had no idea how he'd manage to get an answer in this vast and desolate land, so instead, he simply moved on. With one sluggish movement, he pressed his hands against the springlike flowers, and before he knew it, he was up on his feet. His steps were shaky at first, filled with all the grace of a new toddler though he quickly regained his prior composure. Step after step, rustle after rustle, no wind blew through the eerily quiet forest, the only sound that existed belonged to the sluggish motions of the boy who so fool-heartedly marched towards the body of water that had come oh so close to taking his life. Why he wanted to head there, in particular, remained an unknown. Perhaps he wished to welcome death now, to find an escape from the biting cold that nipped at every millimetre of his exposed skin. Maybe his mind had fractured like an ice sculpture, or maybe, just perhaps, he had seen something in the murky green liquid. Something that made him move towards the land he would rather avoid, a gripping discovery the likes of which the boy had never known.

Soon the quiet rustling of grass and the soft pitter-patter of footsteps changed to an abhorrent squelch, and the chilling feel of mud gripped at the boy's pale white flesh. Now that he wasn't so focused on the light, he could feel the earth's signals, the lake's warning to stay clear. He had been an idiot. His prior situation was something he could have easily avoided if not for his overwhelming childish fascination with the holy light. Not even seconds later, the sound of squelching would be silenced, for the boy had stopped, his relatively short figure now loomed by the lakeside, his feet half submerged in the eerie mud that wished to consume him entirely. He stared at the lake's surface, clearly fascinated by something that lingered atop the murky green liquid.

What reflected back into the child's apathetic hollow brown eyes was not the horrific view of a Grindylow, nor the illusory form of what should have been, but rather an off-hue image of himself, a reflection. One that the child couldn't help but be enchanted by. The body of a boy no older than ten, whose appearance could only be described as extraordinarily average, his face possessed no defining features, no oddities that would separate him from the crowd, nor did his eyes shine in a valued colour. No, he was completely normal. Possessing a head of shaggy brown hair that hung loosely by his pale white collarbone, the child, or rather the ten-year-old, couldn't help but marvel at his image. Sure, to many, he would appear forgettable, someone you could easily lose track of in a crowd, but for some reason, the child couldn't help but feel exhilarated at his own form. He was human. He knew that now, well and truly, and like a human, now, for some reason, he began to feel their emotions, from joy to sadness. He experienced them in the brief amount of time one would consider less than a moment.

Yet that wasn't the only change that occurred in the child's vicinity, for from a distance, the many eyes that found themselves latched upon the moving piece of flesh began to reconsider their decisions. The irrational hatred they held for the child appeared to simmer and cool. Now he was truly like any other fool that wandered into their domain, though whether this change would ultimately sway their decision remained unknown.

The boy remained enraptured by his own visage for what appeared to be minutes. His mind, a complicated mass of thoughts, cut off any outside interference to solely focus on the reality in front of him, a poor decision in hindsight, for if he had been even the slightest bit more observant, he might have picked up on the horrific creature that floated upon the murky green lakes surface, with a head like the shape of an apple, sickly green skin and a chubby gut the creature lay lifeless floating upon its stomach, surrounded by a pool of green blood courtesy of the massive puncture wound that pressed through the creatures bloated belly. It was dead. The Grindylow that had so readily bared its fangs at the lost boy was now without life, whereas the boy breathed freely, unbothered by the actions of the past, with his attention solely focused upon the present.

At the bottom of the lake, out of sight and mind from any possible witnesses, sat a stake, one comprised solely of wood. It was not carved, not whittled away by the hands of a craftsman. It still possessed bark, like it was newly formed, ripped straight off a tree, though the tip of the wooden weapon was stained. Even amongst the mass of murky green water, this stain could not be hidden. This vile green blob that dyed the weapon's tip could not be masked. Something had killed the Grindylow, and that "something" remained unknown.

The boy didn't know how long he spent enraptured by his own visage, his very own human form, but by the time he raised his gaze, the stray beam of devilish light that peaked through the umbral curtains that made up the forest's skyline was no more, replaced by dreary darkness. Had it moved or had hours passed, the child had no idea. Instead, for the first time, one particular question began to rise in his previously empty mind that was now filled with an endless amount of queries.

'Where am I?' The boy dazedly commented, his hollow gaze shifting from the lake's murky surface to peruse the nearby scenery. Everywhere he looked, he saw the same image, the same copy-pasted shrubbery spare for the bed of flowers that lingered behind him. Where did he come from, and more importantly, where was he going? He was lost, without hope the only thing he could do was wander aimlessly around the lake, not straying too far from the sole beacon that broke the endless monotone world of trees.

He couldn't see anything. He couldn't spot the many eyes that focused on his moving body, nor did he feel their blood-fueled lust. He was oblivious to their silent footsteps that marched ever closer, circling around him with the mannerisms befitting a hunter.

Three pairs of amber eyes poked through the thick shrubbery, their sole focus directed upon the bumbling boy who helplessly wandered dazedly by the lakeside. He was smaller than them. He had less meat on his body, though the creatures had no doubt he would still provide for a sufficient feast. At the idea of the boy's decimated corpse, the creatures' mouths began to water, saliva spilt from their hanging jaws revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth stained a vile orange from both blood and decay. They were ready. Their bodies tensed, the muscles in their legs prepared themselves to pounce. They were close enough now, hiding amongst the occasional bush. They watched the foolish child stumble ever closer to them, unaware of their presence and the threat they posed to his life.

He had escaped from one tortuous experience only to encounter another immediately after. It was like the world, no, like fate, life and death had it out for the poor boy who didn't even possess a name. He would die a nobody, a mere passing gust in the storm known as life.

That's how it should have been. For all intents and purposes, the boy's life should have ended here. No, it should have ended the moment he stumbled across this hallowed ground, when he fell into the murky abyss, there was no way he himself had managed to escape from those vile green hands that clutched and destroyed his body, someone else, something else had to have saved him, though the boy still had no idea what, he was useless, a walking meal for the occupants of this forbidden forest to take, and now, right in this very moment, a group had come to claim their free feast.

A palpable tension reigned in the land, though one the child remained utterly oblivious to. The creatures were ready. All they had to do was wait until the boy stumbled closer to them. Step after step, the boy marched closer to his doom. With each movement, a vile smile grew ever broader across the faces of the beasts. They wouldn't let his death be painless. That would be a waste. Food tasted better when flavoured with despair, the dying, crushed hopes of prey.

Seconds felt like hours to the trained creatures. It felt like it took an eternity for the boy to arrive at his final destination, his burial ground. Still, he eventually did, and now he was in their range. Their tensed muscles tightened even further, prepared to launch the hefty mass of muscle that was their rugged bodies at the unsuspecting child. Their open jaws released a low, dreadful how that finally alerted the boy as to his incoming fate.

Immediately the child's head that previously aimlessly perused the world around him shot to the nearby bushes. Something was there. He had heard the beast's low howl. Their false warning and his body, bare and unclothed, released an involuntary shiver of fear. He knew he couldn't run. He hadn't even tried such a feat yet. Would his body even allow it? No, it wouldn't. He couldn't move. He was frozen, paralysed with a mixture of fear and helplessness.

However, just as the mighty beasts reared their muzzles, they froze, for from a distance echoed the roar, not of an animal nor monster, *BOOOM* but of fire, an explosion, one that sounded too close for comfort. A weird sweltering gust of air passed by the stunned child. It stuck to him like the perspiration against his skin, it felt disgusting, yet at the same time, it filled him with hope. Something was here, though whether they were friend or foe remained to be revealed.

Birds took to the sky, their beating wings sounding like the horrific call of a hunt. Time seemed to stop in the little area by the lake as both the boy nor the elusive beasts moved. Their every sense compelled them to stay, to wait, to listen, to strain themselves to the limit in wait for the encroaching being. Or at least that's what the hidden beasts believed; that's what they did, for the boy immediately took flight. His steps were slow at first. He didn't want to alert the hidden creatures to his retreat, though this venture, this fine dance, was ultimately useless.

The child could not even take five steps before the creatures shifted their attention back to the fleeing prey, their amber still hidden from the boy's view now more bloodshot than ever. They knew what was nearby, they could hear the odd gait of the encroaching being, and they did not fear it. Whatever was approaching them would only be dessert for their ferocious, insatiable appetite.

The beasts were done hiding. They knew that their prey wished to run, that their ambush proved to be nothing more than a fruitless effort, their time spent in vain. Now they simply wanted to kill, and nothing would stop them.

*Rustle, Rustle* The bushes around the retreating child began to rustle, not thanks to the passing of wind, but from movement. The creatures were stirring. They were finally going to reveal their true form to the worrisome child.

First came a paw, silver in colour. It shone like the moon. Its silver radiance in any other situation would be something to be admired, but right now, the colour that so effortlessly filled people with kindness, solemn loneliness and compassion terrified the retreating boy. It was furry. The paw was large, easily matching up to the boy's frail thigh in length. It didn't belong to a normal creature. It couldn't have. This was something bigger, something that shouldn't exist among normal humans.

From the brushes next appeared a snout bearing row upon row of stained orange teeth. The creature snarled. It howled at the poor child like it wanted him to feel fear, to know true despair in his final moments. And finally came the big reveal, the creature's true form, shrouded in shadow, marched out into the little light that managed to peek through the thick curtains above.

It was large. That was the only reasonable way to describe the beast. With claws the size of the boy's foot and horrific amber eyes that swirled with unmistakable bloodlust, the child had no idea what he was up against. A wolf, though not any normal wolf, this was one that was forced to survive amidst this horrific land, one that knew of the oddities this world possessed. It towered over the boy, its height easily reaching up to the shoulders of a fully grown man. There was no way he would be able to run from it nor fight it. He was doomed.

Still, that wasn't all it couldn't be. This was only one wolf of the many that circled around the boy, the only one who had revealed itself while the rest waited for the child to retreat further into the land they called home.

'Am I going to die?' The boy helplessly questioned, his hollow brown eyes forced to lock with the horrific amber of the wolf. His thoughts were an unreadable mass of dread and self-pity; he had been put in this world to die. He had never experienced life, yet strangely he did not feel sad. Instead, he felt content. Though his life had been short, at least he had been able to experience human emotions. He could still feel the elation in his heart upon seeing his own reflection in the murky green of the lake. He had been happy then, well and truly happy.

No, he couldn't die. He didn't want to die. He wanted to experience more. He wanted to live as a human for longer. He wanted to meet people, to escape from this endless monochrome forest. The happiness in his heart quickly shifted into an emotion more akin to defiance, his hollow brown eyes that previously trembled upon contact with the wolf's violent amber now burned with resolve. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know why his body refused to run away from such a puny creature, why he stood tall in the face of certain death, but he did, and that was when he saw it, from behind the bulky creature that was in the midst of lunging at the child, he saw the figure of a human, like him, a slender body, and colours that broke away from the green of the forest, they appeared to be mid-motion, their right arm seemed to flail against the empty air with something held tightly within their grasp, though what it was eluded the poor child who could only tense his body in preparation for what was to come.

It was then that something miraculous happened. From the tip of the item the human held erupted a ball of flame, one that cleanly soared through the air like a hot knife through butter. It was fast, amazingly so. It moved with a speed the wolf could only envy, for by the time the creature's claws managed to enter the child's general vicinity, it had already caught up to it, and it collided squarely with the creature's body.

*BANG*