The Path into the Unknown
Finn left the village before dawn. He said not a word to anyone. The forest greeted him with silence—predators had returned to their dens, and the daytime inhabitants were yet to awaken.
He walked quickly, confidently, not looking back. Behind him lay his home, the hunters, and the people who had once been his family. Now he had only one goal—the city.
Two months of travel through the woods.
The first day passed easily. The training from the hunters had not gone to waste—Finn knew where to find water, how to locate safe places to sleep, and how to avoid predators. But the shadows… They were everywhere. He could feel them.
On the third night of his rest, he noticed that someone was watching him.
Finn slowly lifted his head. The branches of the trees did not move, but something was among them.
A shadow.
Without moving, he placed his hand on the hilt of his knife. His heart beat steadily, but his muscles tensed.
The shadow watched him, as if studying him.
"What are you waiting for?" Finn muttered.
The creature emitted a low, hissing sound. It did not move, did not attack.
Finn tightened his grip on the knife's hilt.
Finn pretended not to notice the shadow. He continued to tend to a small fire, as if nothing had happened.
The creature remained still, but its presence pressed down on him, as if an invisible weight hung in the air. Finn could feel its gaze, its hunger, but he did not let on.
Minutes passed. The shadow did not attack.
Finn slowly lay on his side, placing his hand under his head and closing his eyes. He breathed evenly, as if truly falling asleep.
The wait dragged on.
A rustle.
A barely perceptible movement at the edge of his perception.
Finn did not flinch, but now he knew—the shadow was not merely watching. It was testing him.
Finn remained motionless. His breathing stayed steady, but his muscles were taut, ready for any movement.
The shadow took its time. It seemed to be evaluating him, approaching slowly, almost silently, blending into the night's darkness.
Finn felt a light gust of cold air—it was right beside him.
Then—pause.
The shadow halted just a few steps away. It was waiting, observing.
Time stretched infinitely.
And suddenly—a swift lunge!
The darkness surged forward, slicing through the air.
Finn instantly pivoted, and dark, metallic claws burst from his fingertips. They glimmered in the dim moonlight before slicing through the air with a horrifying screech.
The shadow did not expect this. It attempted to dodge, but it was too late—the claws ripped through its body, leaving a trail of black smoke behind. A horrific wail erupted, a mix of whispers and gasps, as if hundreds of voices were screaming at once.
But it did not vanish.
The shadow quivered, its form distorting, stretching as if trying to evade the inevitable. Finn gave it no chance—with wild fury, he lunged forward and delivered another blow, tearing its silhouette apart.
The clumps of darkness shattered, trembling remnants began to be drawn into his claws, disappearing within.
As the last particle of shadow dissolved, a chill coursed through Finn's body. His vision dimmed for a moment, but then he felt something new.
His body felt lighter. His hearing sharpened. He could hear the rustling of leaves on the trees, the breath of hidden creatures in the dark.
He was growing stronger.
But he knew he had drawn attention.
Other shadows were already sensing him.
Finn took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement. He felt his heart racing, and the blood still pulsing in his fingers, now covered in dark claws.
But right now—the main focus was not the fight.
He knew other shadows were already hunting. They sensed the smell of battle, sensed the disappearance of one of their own. If he remained here, he would face them head-on.
What if there were too many?
Finn slowly backed away, blending into the darkness. He walked silently, as the hunters had taught him. Shadows did not rely on sight, but keenly picked up movements and sounds.
He found a fallen tree with thick roots, forming a hiding place. Carefully, he climbed inside, covered himself with fallen leaves, and held his breath.
Now, he only had to wait.
Soon, the forest came alive.
From the depths of darkness, shadows slithered out—six, eight… ten. They made no sound, their silhouettes gliding smoothly among the trees, weaving like snakes in search of prey.
They moved restlessly, searching the area. One of them froze right in front of his hiding place, as if sniffing the air.
Finn did not move.
For several seconds, the shadow remained still. Then it abruptly jerked and disappeared into the darkness, following the others.
They were gone.
Finn exhaled, feeling his muscles tremble from tension. He waited a few more hours before slowly emerging from his hiding place.
Dawn was already breaking through the trees.
Another night had passed.
He survived.
Finn cautiously stepped out of his hiding spot, surveying his surroundings. The rays of dawn pierced through the thick canopies, painting the forest in muted golden hues.
The shadows had left, but their presence still lingered—a light chill in the air, an unnatural silence among the trees.
He moved on.
Two months of travel…
With each day, Finn grew more distant from familiar places. The forest thickened, darkened. Sometimes he noticed the tracks of wild beasts, and sometimes—strange markings on the trees, left by someone before him.
But more than anything else, he was troubled by something else.
He was changing.
The claws that appeared after consuming the essence of the shadow no longer vanished completely. He could retract them into his fingers, but the moment he lost control—there they were again, sharp, black, metallic.
His vision had become different. Now he could see in the dark, distinguishing even the faintest shades of black. And his hearing… he could hear a beast gnawing on a bone several hundred meters away, and the leaves rustling beneath the paws of small predators.
Sometimes he sensed the scent of shadows before he even spotted them.
Am I no longer human?
This thought troubled him, but he pushed it aside.
Right now, survival was more important.
On the sixth day of his journey, he encountered other people for the first time.