Ellie got up before dawn. The city was still asleep, and even the guild was silent – a rarity Ellie valued especially. Calmly and methodically, she checked her gear: two daggers, a flask, a pouch of chalk, a bundle of charcoal, a small pencil sharpener, and a journal – brand new, still smelling of printing ink and dry paper. She had bought it last night from that old woman in the riverside shop. The woman even asked, "Aren't you scared, girl, walking alone?" Ellie just smiled and shrugged, saying nothing.
She checked her map: eastern sector, almost empty. Just a few marks, old and faded. Nothing specific, not a single clear danger. Just what she needed.
She went through her provisions, carefully counting the portions. According to her calculations, if she walked calmly, without delays, stopping to write and make notes, the route would take four to five weeks. She never rushed, didn't like haste. Even now, with empty streets outside her window, a familiar feeling was already stirring inside – a calm, almost childlike joy in the face of the unknown. She loved that.
She packed her things into her backpack, checked the straps and buckles. Carefully laced her boots. Finally, she picked up her pencil and wrote a short note on the first page of the journal:
"First day of a new route. Eastern sector, area G-4. Almost no records.
I hope I won't be disappointed. No, not hope – I know. I like it when the map is empty.
I like the feeling that nobody knows, and I'm the first to go.
Whatever lies ahead, it'll be mine."
She tucked the journal into her jacket pocket and, taking a deep breath, stepped outside.
The city was waking slowly, lazily, as if it didn't want to let her go. She didn't linger, walking through familiar quiet alleys, past shops, the smithy, the guild's warehouse, and a sleepy guard who gave her a nod in response to her short wave.
The air was clear, slightly cold. By the time Ellie reached the eastern gate, the sun had fully risen. The guard looked at her token, noted something in the logbook, and waved her through.
- Good luck out there.
Ellie smiled, nodded lightly in return, and stepped beyond the gate. And as soon as the city was behind her, she felt like she had finally returned home, where there were no walls, no crowds, no voices. Just the road, the air, the smell of the forest, and something unknown ahead.
The first day passed smoothly and calmly. The route turned out to be easy: an old trade road, half-abandoned but still clearly visible. The trees on either side gradually grew taller and thicker until, by evening, they nearly formed a canopy overhead. Ellie stopped at a small clearing, lit a fire, checked her map, and calmly marked her first camp point.
She opened her journal by the firelight, writing quickly and freely her first impressions:
"Evening.
The road is comfortable. Old trade route. No oddities.
Actually no, that's a lie – the oddity is that there are none.
Usually, something pops up on the first day. So far it's peaceful. I like that. At least I can think clearly.
Need to remember to check the old streams tomorrow. It's strange that the maps are so empty.
Too empty, really."
Ellie closed the journal and sat for a while, watching the fire, listening to the night. No wind. No animals. The forest too seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for her to finally step a little further. It didn't scare her – on the contrary, it stirred her curiosity. Still, all in good time.
She curled up under her old cloak, looking into the dark, quiet canopy above. Just before sleep took her, she caught herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow everything would really begin. And that thought warmed her more than the neat little fire.
- Well, we'll see,- she whispered to herself.- Tomorrow.
And closed her eyes.
Second day
"Early morning? Or still night? The moon's strange, brighter than usual. Cold."
Woke up too early. Everything around was silent, like the forest had been told to shut up. Usually by the second day something creaks, sings, or rustles, but now – not a sound.
Actually, no. I lied to myself – there is a sound. So quiet it's almost not there, like someone slowly, barely audibly dragging claws across bark. And then it stops, the moment I try to listen more closely.
Maybe I just didn't sleep enough. Maybe it's just the wind playing with branches. I don't know. Marking it just in case.
"My dreams were empty, which is strange. After the first day of hiking, I usually dream all kinds of nonsense: the past, the guild, Rane.
By the way, why did I even think of him? No idea.
Today – nothing. No images, no faces.
That's weirdness number two this morning. Nothing special, but still worth noting.
Forest, what are you up to?"
Written a bit later:
"Just saw footprints. Small ones, almost childlike, around the tent. Not mine.
Definitely weren't there last night. I checked.
Could've thought it was an animal, but the prints are very clear. A foot, toes. Human-like, only too small. Too clean, like they were deliberately placed."
Later, by the old stream. Or what used to be one.
"Found the stream. Or what used to be one. Completely dried up, no bed – it collapsed into the ground. Like the earth just swallowed it. Feels cold to the touch. I don't know why, but it feels like there's a current coming from below. Not wind, but pressure from underground. If you stand still, you can almost hear something moving down there. Or breathing? Marked on the map.
Maybe that's why the guild left this sector empty?
Strange no one documented it before."
Evening, same day. Second night. This time I made a bigger fire.
Strange things are piling up. Or maybe I'm just making them up to stay entertained.
But someone left prints again. Same ones. Tiny, childlike. Around the tent and leading off into the trees. Again – foot, toes, even the curve of the sole is visible. Like someone's watching but not getting closer. Should I follow them?
No. Not yet. I don't like being baited.
Better to wait. Better to record and wait.
Or should I go now?
No-no-no. Not today. I'll just watch. But I'll take my dagger.
Added later, clearly in a hurry, handwriting a little shaky.
"Went to look. The prints stop abruptly. Like they were just… stopped.
You're standing there – they're visible. Step forward – nothing. Grass untouched.
Like the prints only existed so I could see them."
I hate games like this. Either show yourself or stop pacing around at night!
"Feel like an idiot. Talking to my journal like it might answer.
Though honestly, who else can I talk to when it's just trees around?
Enough. Sleep. Tomorrow I'll walk faster. I want to understand what's going on here.
Or I don't want to. But I have to. I'm too curious now. Rane would ask: are you sure you want to keep going?
And I'd say: of course not. But it's too late to stop."
Sleep. Really, sleep.
Way at the bottom, almost invisible:
"If the prints appear again tomorrow, I'll definitely follow them.
But breakfast first.
Because even if something wants to eat you – better not be hungry."
Third day
Morning, very early, sun barely up. Written quickly, crouching.
"The prints are back. Same ones. I'm not even surprised now.
Strange how quickly a person adapts to what seemed impossible yesterday.
There are more of them today. Or does it just seem that way?
No – there really are more. Steps are closer, denser, like someone stood by for a long time, watching me sleep.
Why didn't I hear anything?
I'm not afraid. Uneasy, yes. But not afraid.
Or maybe I just won't admit it to myself. Doesn't matter. I've decided.
I'm following them right now.
I'm writing this down so that if I do get eaten, the guild knows – I chose this myself."
Written later, after sunrise. Leaning against a tree.
"Didn't have to walk far. The tracks cut off abruptly again, like yesterday.
But this time I didn't stop. I stepped forward – and realized the grass ahead is thicker than on the sides. Like a line.
Another step – the grass changed. Darker. Colder. Felt wet to the touch, even though it hasn't rained in days.
Could it be some kind of hidden barrier? A boundary? But whose?
Note: at this spot the compass started spinning again, like it did yesterday.
This is not random. Magic? Probably."
I took another step and suddenly felt the air change. Heavy, damp. Almost hard to breathe. Like I'd stepped into invisible fog.
Then I heard water. A stream? No, more. Something like a small waterfall.
What's it doing here? No rivers are on the map. Definitely weren't.
What's going on?
I'm going further.
Midday, I think. Sunlight barely filters through. Written while walking, very hastily.
"Found the source of the sound. A waterfall. Small, quiet, but… wrong.
The water flows upward.
It runs up the rocks in reverse.
How is that even possible? (thought: is this an anomaly or an illusion? Or something worse?) Decided to stop here briefly. Need to take a look around.
Maybe the maps were wrong? Or maybe no one's ever come here – and now I see why."
The water is very strange. Almost motionless. Just flows upward.
I tried to touch it – it's icy, fingers went numb instantly. But nothing else happened.
"I think I shouldn't have done that. The water… is looking? No, I'm not crazy. It's as if it's started watching me. I move - it also changes direction. And the longer I'm here, the more clearly I feel that it knows more about me than I know about it. I guess I should move on. The sooner I leave, the better.
Evening of the same day, the tent is set up far away from the water. My hands are still cold.
I've walked a decent distance from that place. I'm sitting in the tent, trying to warm up, but my fingers are still barely moving. And in my head there's a strange feeling, as if I touched something I shouldn't have touched. As if the water was trying to take something. Or give something away?"
Hastily crossed out:
"Maybe this is a warning? Or a trap?"
Stop.
This is not my handwriting. I didn't write this. Who wrote this in my diary?
Written, already panicky fast, in the corner of the page:
"It wasn't me! Who's here?!"
Almost illegible, very low, as if someone was trying to calm down, but it didn't work:
"No, Ellie. You wrote it. You just don't remember. You don't remember yet."