Abadon

You look surprised when I say this. Could it be that you don't know? Or do you think that I'm as crazed as everyone else I've told believes me to be? Go on and laugh--I've heard it all before. Laugh, and remember that you were the one who asked in the first place.

...Hmm... no... no, that look in your eye... it isn't one simply of surprise, is it? There's that trace of recognition in there--that distant spark. Could it be that you've--?

...Oh. Oh, no, dear. Have you seen those lights in the woods? Those gently glowing beacons that illuminate a path for you to follow? They only show up when you think you're lost, don't they? Perhaps you've followed them before and they guided you home. Perhaps you've tried to touch one before and it felt oddly like nothing to the touch. Does that sound accurate?

I do not mean this lightly: You should never follow those lights again.

...Why? I would think the 'why' is obvious: They simply aren't to be trusted. Do you not wonder where those lights come from? Why they suddenly appear before you, of all dragons, to guide you home? If the trail of light is so kind, then why have so many hatchlings gone missing in the woods?

Ah. Caught your attention, have I? Don't look at me like that--I know what you're about to say. 'A hatchling hasn't gone missing in those woods for twenty-three years', you want to say. 'A dragon hasn't gone missing in those woods for five.' And perhaps you're right--a dragon hasn't gone missing in those woods for five years, but twenty-three years ago, a hatchling who was not that much younger than you did.

I remember that hatchling well. She would be my age right now were she here right now, and she, too, was a mirror. The lights were bolder then, flickering on the edges of the forest, and she found herself wide-eyed and curious.

They lured her from her pack, guided her footfalls in the soft forest carpet in the middle of the night. She didn't know how long she was walking for, and eventually when she looked back, she wasn't able to trace the path back to her pack.

A small niggling of worry wormed its way around in her gut, her gaze flicking between temperature and visual, and a curious thing that she didn't notice at the time was that the lights didn't give off any heat or cold at all. She didn't notice that the forest ground beneath her was heavy and thick, either.

But what she did notice, as she slid her tongue out to taste the air, was that it smelled of rotting plants and little else more. And this was strange, and a little bit unnerving, and it made her worry and wonder just how far away she wandered. The lights continued to flicker, and the more her gaze followed their trail, the more she saw that she couldn't make much of anything out beyond their light.

She felt like things were watching her, but if they were, it was somewhere beyond what she could see. A choking darkness was pressing against her, and all that she had for company was the light that was slowly beginning to flicker and die out. The darkness was growing and it was pressing against her like a shrinking room, making it hard to breathe through the rise and fall of her chest.

She could either continue following the trail of lights in the air or she could turn away and flee into the darkness. Or she could stand stock-still and frozen, watching as light after light dimmed into nothing, and until the last one that she could see in the far-off distance disappeared.

It left her alone. She wasn't sure if she could hear the sounds of the world around her or if it was the sound of herself simply existing. The moon was supposed to be shining bright and full, the stars glimmering in the patchy sky, but when she looked up and around and everywhere, down the way she thought she came, all she could find was...

...All that was there was darkness. And it was terrifying and silent.

And then she heard a sound. The sound of a soft, gentle movement of air passing around her and through her. It was cool, and some part of her found some comfort in the coolness among the silence, in the noise that a gentle breeze could bring.

But then the air stopped, reversed, became warm. It sounded like the sigh of some creature she couldn't see, pressed up against her back.

And then, something heavy crashed through the woods behind her.

She ran, fleeing, desperate for breath. Thorns she didn't realize were there before dug into her claws, and she fell over more than once and very likely screamed, but if she did, she didn't remember. But she ran as fast as she could away from--away from whatever it was that lurked in the dark. Away from the anglerfish that was trying to lure her into her tomb of brambles.

She didn't know how long she'd been running, but when she finally slowed to a stop, it was eerily silent. There was no noise at all. Nothing. No footsteps, no birdcalls, no wind.

But there was light, shining down from the smiling full moon, the twinkling stars, and the air felt so cool and crisp that it burned.

When she turned around, the massive tangle of brambles at her back only showed a yawning darkness. And there were lights leading her back inside.

And for years, she was lost. But she was alive.

...Do you see now why you shouldn't follow those lights? ...I hope you understand. Whatever it is that lies within the darkness, I'm sure that it's hungry. Perhaps even starving. After all, it hasn't eaten in five years.

And with luck, I hope to make that six.