I walked several kilometers at a slow pace. I had no trouble orienting myself; my eyes didn’t deceive me. After crossing to the other side of that natural wall, the terrain suddenly opened up, as if the forest were breathing after an invisible pressure. In front of me appeared scattered fruit trees, growing with no apparent order. Most of them bore pear-shaped fruits, hanging heavy among the leaves.

  I didn’t complain.

  I was still alive.

  And this time, no eating strange things.

  Dusk began to stain the forest with orange and reddish tones. The light filtered through the tall canopies, stretching the shadows until they became unrecognizable. The sun descended slowly, but I knew it wouldn’t take long to disappear. Night would be the most dangerous moment; without light, I would be completely at the mercy of whatever lurked in this place… and in this world, I was very far from being anything important in the food chain.

  I decided I needed to make a fire. Or at least something that would give light.

  I knew nothing real about surviving in the wild. Nothing useful. Just vague memories of a camp I went to once. They said they taught basic things there: how to make fire with whatever was around, how to put together an improvised shelter that almost always collapsed before dawn.

  Even if I managed something like that here, it wouldn’t be of much use. One hit, one strong gust… any creature could knock it down without effort.

  I searched the surroundings for a good while. Fatigue weighed on my legs, and the forest’s silence didn’t help. There were dry leaves on the ground—many of them—forming crunchy layers under my steps, but none seemed thin enough to catch easily.

  Firewood was another problem.

  I tried to tear branches and bark from the oldest trees, but they were like rock.

  When I touched them, the trunks felt as hard as steel. My nails barely managed to scratch the surface. Only a few withered trees gave way, shedding pieces of dry bark, as if skin were peeling from a sick body.

  It wasn’t much… but it was all I had.

  The sun finished hiding without asking permission.

  The light withdrew little by little, like a dark tide covering everything.

  First the green disappeared. Then the details. Then the shapes. Until the forest was reduced to vague silhouettes and black stains that could be trees… or something else.

  I piled dry leaves and pieces of bark beneath a withered tree. I arranged them carefully, forming something that could barely be called a nest. My hands trembled; I didn’t know if it was from the cold beginning to settle in or from the tension that hadn’t left my chest for hours.

  I took the only two stones I found. I didn’t know if they would work. I’d only seen it in movies and in some old book. I had no rope or any object to create friction, so I struck them together anyway.

  The first time, nothing happened.

  The second, a spark appeared… and died the very instant it was born, before touching the leaves.

  I tried again with more force, ignoring the pain building in my fingers after striking them dozens of times. My hands burned, my skin began to protest, but I couldn’t stop. A spark jumped toward the dry bark and, for a moment, I thought it wouldn’t work either.

  Then a tiny flame appeared.

  Small. Weak. Trembling.

  It reminded me of someone.

  I stayed perfectly still, holding my breath, as if any sudden movement might extinguish it. I blew gently—not to feed it, but to avoid killing it. The flame grew just enough to stay alive.

  It didn’t light the forest. It barely managed to push the darkness a few steps back.

  The wood didn’t catch the way I expected. Instead of that vivid red fire always gave off, the flame had a greenish, sickly hue. That color told me I was killing something more than simple dry logs… as if that fire were unnatural, as if it were consuming something that shouldn’t burn.

  There wasn’t even a breeze during the night. The air was still—too still. Sometimes I heard noises among the bushes, faint crunches, soft footsteps that stopped whenever I tried to look. I never saw anything. I felt my mind starting to play tricks on me.

  Now I have light in this infinite darkness, I thought. At least I won’t be cold.

  If something came for me… I hoped it would be quick. And while I was asleep.

  I didn’t want to feel that pain anymore.

  I curled up in front of the fire as close as I could, feeling the heat brush my skin. I closed my eyes only for a few seconds at a time, afraid that if I did it for longer, something would take advantage of the darkness to approach. But even if I saw it… I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Little by little, my eyelids gave in.

  Without letting go of that fear, I focused only on the warmth of the fire, the only thing sheltering me. In those seconds of uncertainty, amid the crunch of leaves being trampled by animals I couldn’t see…

  I fell asleep.

  The darkness closed in again.

  It wasn’t the forest’s.

  It was thicker. Heavier. As if air didn’t exist inside it.

  I tried to move and couldn’t. Something pressed against my chest—slow, constant. It didn’t hurt yet, but I knew it would. It always started like this. I opened my mouth to breathe and only a thin thread of air came in, insufficient.

  “No…” I tried to say, but my voice didn’t come out.

  There were hands.

  I couldn’t see them well, only feel them. Fingers tightening around my neck—not in anger, but with a calm that was even more terrifying. As if they already knew I wouldn’t escape. As if this were just a formality.

  I heard laughter. Not mocking. Familiar laughter. Voices that once called me friend.

  I tried to remember when it all started, but the memory shattered every time I touched it—like cracked glass crumbling when you try to hold it. I only knew I hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

  That trusting had been enough to condemn me.

  The air was running out. My lungs burned. My body screamed, but my mind was still.

  That was the real terror: being conscious. Knowing exactly what was happening and being unable to do anything to stop it.

  Then I understood, as always.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I wasn’t afraid of pain.

  I was afraid of this exact moment.

  Of waiting.

  Of knowing the end was already decided.

  The hands loosened suddenly.

  I fell.

  The ground opened beneath my body and the sensation of falling tore the last bit of air from me.

  I woke up before hitting the bottom.

  I didn’t react immediately. I only opened my eyes when I felt reality settling back into my senses. I looked down at my body, watching my chest rise and fall in desperation. I took a deep breath, holding it for five seconds before exhaling. I had to repeat it several times before the trembling in my hands calmed.

  I looked up. The sky was clear, and sunlight filtered through the leaves of the tree above me.

  I was still alive.

  “I think that, of everything that’s happened to me here… that dream was the strangest.”

  It was curious to think that after having nearly died twice before. Even so, that feeling of a narrow escape didn’t make me feel lucky, but uneasy—as if luck had an expiration date.

  I took my time to steady myself. I breathed deeply several times, letting the tremor slowly leave my hands, forcing my mind out of that constant state of alarm. When I finally felt I could think clearly, I decided to continue.

  I no longer knew whether I should simply keep moving aimlessly or if it would be better to look for materials to build a shelter. There were still many fruit trees around, and there didn’t seem to be dangerous animals nearby. Far from calming me, that disappointed me a little. It made me feel like all I had to do was sit down and eat fruit for the rest of my life.

  And that idea was unbearable.

  So I decided to move on.

  “The world was made to be discovered.”

  The words left my mouth in a low voice, but they sounded firm, as if I needed to hear them to remind myself who I was… or who I wanted to keep being. I stood up and stretched my muscles, did some clumsy warm-ups to prepare my body for another long walk. Then I kicked dirt over the fire I’d made during the night, smothering the last trace of smoke, forcing that strange fire to stop “breathing” for good.

  Then I moved forward.

  In a straight line, like my entire path so far.

  As I ventured deeper into the unknown, I began to notice changes in the environment. At last, more diversity of flora started to appear. Flowers grew from the ground in an explosion of impossible colors and shapes, as if someone had mixed all the seasons of the year into a single place. Their aromas flooded the air—fresh, warm, sweet… almost intoxicating.

  Vines climbed the trees, intertwining with their trunks, and from some of them sprouted round fruits, similar to tomatoes… but a deep, almost glowing blue.

  I decided not to touch them.

  It was a total change of atmosphere. It was no longer just an endless corridor of trees; now there were more open stretches of grass, flowers, and strange plants growing without order, without limits. Hours passed as I walked, and I felt increasingly lost in that biodiversity expanding without control. There was nothing stopping it. There were no machines cutting down trees to turn everything into dead, empty zones.

  Nature here didn’t ask permission.

  As I entered denser trees again, a high slope began to rise in front of me. I could go around it, yes—but I needed to see beyond. I needed to know where I was headed.

  I had to climb.

  The incline was too steep. I slipped often, so I moved more slowly, watching every place I set my foot. Halfway up, I had to use hands and feet to climb. The earth crumbled under my fingers, but even so it wasn’t a real obstacle. It was tiring. Tedious. But my body responded better than I expected.

  I reached the top.

  And I was left breathless.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  There was life.

  It was no longer just an endless forest. Beyond stretched enormous open fields, like green seas moving with the wind. Birds traced wide circles across the sky, and in the distance I could make out small figures of animals running through the fields. They could be dogs, wolves… or something worse. They were too far away to know for sure. It might take an entire day to reach them if I ran.

  But that didn’t dim my excitement.

  Neither did the fact that they could be dangerous animals that, upon seeing me, would be eager to taste my flesh.

  Though… I was almost all bone.

  I ran.

  I couldn’t contain my happiness. I went down the slope as fast as I could, slipping several times, almost rolling in some stretches. I wanted to get there. I needed to get there.

  I tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the ground.

  I would’ve turned red with embarrassment… but there was no one there.

  Who cared?

  I didn’t.

  “Forward, danger!”

  I kept running, feeling how my endurance had increased since I arrived. I didn’t tire as quickly anymore. My breathing stayed steady; my legs responded without that constant burn.

  I jumped over rocks, pushed through thorny bushes, grabbed onto vines hanging from trees. Every time I did, I felt like Tarzan. It was stupidly fun.

  From time to time I stopped to rest, sitting on the ground, watching the sky through the leaves. I hadn’t had water since I arrived, but it didn’t seem to be a problem. The fruits had been enough… though, despite seeing many new ones, I only trusted those I had already tried.

  During one of those breaks, a doubt crept in.

  Was I rushing too much?

  I had nothing to defend myself with. Could I have made an improvised spear? I doubted it. The stones didn’t damage that strange wood, and any homemade weapon would shatter on first impact.

  I was moving too fast.

  I had been running for hours… but the sun still seemed to be at its highest point.

  “Is it noon?”

  Maybe the day here lasted thirty hours. Maybe more. If so, I shouldn’t waste time. But if I reached the fields right at nightfall… I’d be exposed. Even more now that I knew there were large animals out there.

  I continued.

  This time at a more moderate pace.

  I still played as I moved, “practicing.” If I had no weapons, maybe my agility would be the only thing that could save me from a predator. The ground grew drier, paler, but the trees kept growing without difficulty.

  Then I saw another vine.

  Bright green, coiled around a sturdy branch. I smiled without thinking and sped up to swing one more time.

  I jumped.

  I grabbed it with both hands.

  The branch snapped.

  I fell to the ground still holding the vine, which began to unravel, and the broken branch struck my face. I felt nothing at that moment.

  Until the ground disappeared.

  The earth opened beneath me, swallowing me. I fell into a massive hole, and as I descended, the outside light grew weaker and weaker. The vine suddenly went taut and yanked me back, making me fall onto my back.

  I slammed into the hard ground.

  “Aaaaah!”

  The scream tore my throat. Something sharp had pierced my shoulder. The pain was immediate. Brutal. It knocked the air out of me. I couldn’t move; I just stared upward, seeing the vine hanging from the opening, far too high.

  I cried without realizing it. I groaned, grinding my teeth, trying not to pass out. Little by little I managed to endure it enough to think.

  I looked at my shoulder.

  A fragment, like broken glass, sharp as a blade, jutted out of the ground… and had impaled me.

  I swallowed.

  I had to do it.

  I had to get up, free my body from it, use my shirt to bind the wound and not bleed out.

  I counted.

  “O-one… two… and—”

  I pushed with all the strength I had left.

  The pain didn’t lessen; on the contrary, it exploded. When I managed to pull my body free from the earth’s teeth, blood gushed from my shoulder—hot, thick, impossible to ignore. I tried to stifle the screams, but they still escaped between my clenched teeth, turning into broken, desperate sounds.

  I tore part of my shirt along with the sleeve and, as fast as I could, tried to tie a knot around the wound.

  I used my teeth to rip the fabric into strips. Every movement made white flashes burst in front of my eyes. The pain spread down my arm, climbed my neck, throbbed inside my skull. The effort of trying to make a tourniquet with one hand pressed even harder against the wound, forcing the blood to pour out faster.

  I screamed again.

  I failed.

  The fabric slipped, badly fitted, soaked through, and ended up tearing. Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stay there waiting for life to drain out of my body. With trembling hands, I tore off the other sleeve of my shirt.

  My determination grew at the same pace as the adrenaline. The pain was still there, but it became distant, as if it belonged to another body.

  This time I tightened with everything I had.

  I wrapped the fabric, pulled the knot tight with my teeth, securing it until my hands began to tingle. I felt the pressure—brutal, but necessary.

  I did it.

  I could still see blood seeping through the torn skin the fabric didn’t fully cover, but the main flow had stopped. I wouldn’t bleed out. Not yet.

  I stayed still for a few seconds, breathing with difficulty, waiting for the trembling to ease a little. The world seemed to tilt from side to side, as if I were on a ship in the middle of a storm.

  Then I noticed the branch that had hit my head. It had fallen beside me. I carefully turned to push it away… and that was when I saw them better.

  Those fragments.

  There were several embedded in the ground, jutting out at irregular angles. They glimmered faintly in the little light coming from above. They looked like glass. Or crystal. Natural formations, perhaps. Since I knew nothing about this world, I didn’t give them any more importance.

  Mistake.

  I took the branch and used it as support to stand up. The simple act of rising made my vision darken for a moment.

  And then I noticed it.

  There were holes in the walls.

  Many.

  Small tunnels perforating the earth in all directions. They weren’t natural cracks. They were too round. Too uniform.

  Strange noises came from them.

  Wet sounds. Viscous sliding. Something moving against the earth, against the walls, producing soft echoes that reverberated inside the hole where I was. The place wasn’t wide—just deep, like a vertical trap.

  I had to get out.

  Now.

  My blood ran cold when, suddenly, the sounds stopped.

  The silence was worse.

  My heartbeat thundered in my head, loud, uncontrolled. But there was another sound… a rhythmic, pulsing one, and I didn’t know where it was coming from.

  I didn’t look up.

  Something held me still.

  Hypnotized.

  That was when I saw them.

  Small red points began to appear inside the tunnels, one by one, lighting up in the darkness like embers.

  They weren’t reflections.

  They weren’t crystals.

  They were eyes.

  Dozens of them.

  Watching me.

  The same eyes that always appear when death makes itself present…