It's been a few hours since we left the small town of Ashinlu. The tiny dot that I could still see through the window's makeshift carriage from before is now hidden by the trees of the surrounding forest. With it, the conversation I had with Imaya, slowly receded in my mind.
"It's dangerous to travel near the borders. Where are the two of you headed?" The kind herbalist who volunteered to guide us as far as he could uttered with an inquisitive tone.
"We're going to the capital." Azrael conveniently answered while matching the speed of the carriage with his weird horse that has never once stopped snorting at me every chance it got.
Like master like pet. I shifted my gaze away from them and snapped the curtains shut to ward off the annoying sight.
"Ah. I see. It is safer to take this route, but you must still proceed with caution... Especially since you will soon pass through the land of the faeries."
My ears twitched at the fancy name he mentioned.
"Land of the fairies?" I repeated curiously.
"Ah. It's believed to be the home of such creatures because of a few unfortunate deaths. In reality, they were only caused by poisonous plants. Knowing the young miss, however, I know you won't have any problems moving forward. Your knowledge far exceeds mine." He laughed merrily like a proud father while I muttered an incomprehensible reply consisting of a grunt and an awkward laugh.
The carriage suddenly shook and I almost fell out of my seat if not for my quick reflexes. My bag fell off the seat, however.
"Sorry 'bout that, miss. The road's unpaved going forward."
"Oh it's quite alright..." Not actually, but hey, can a luggage complain? I quickly bent down to retrieve my things when I noticed the book from the merchant peeking out of my string bag. Of course. When's a more convenient time to go over it than now? I made sure that the curtains are tightly shut before pulling it out of my bag.
It says Theology on the cover, but the second page revealed a different title.
G̵̨̧̦̟͙̞͙̙̟̎͌͂̍͗͌̔͠ļ̴̧̲͙̟͓͈̗̱̉́͆̔͒̓͑̀̈́́o̶̡̲͎̰̪̬͙͑̊̃́̈́̉͆̿ṡ̶̥̹̱̯̻̃̑̐̍͛̃̚̚ͅş̵͈͔̻͖̻̱̯͎̜̓̓͆̿̈̿̕͘͝ä̴̧̛͍͓̪̥̭̞̼͙͓́̍̋̉͐r̴͈̔̄y̵̧̲͓̤̿͑͛̿̐̓̂̚͝ ̸͚̥͚̼́̔͂̚ȯ̸͕̀͐̆͗̅̌͝f̷̰̬̦̲͕̰͔̠̔́ ̷̞͒̅̋̕͠Ë̵̝̯͂͐͋̃͝͝l̴̤̙͓͓̮̰͚͓̓̓́̒̂̀d̵̨̛͓͎̺͚̗̰͓̤͈̆̉͛̈̇͗r̶̢͍̜̞̜̳̙̓̋́̾͗̋̏̀͝͝i̶̢̭̳̠͕̲͔̦͍̿̇̑̇̊̉͜c̸̫̖̓̈́̓̃̒̉̏͑̆ͅḩ̸̧̻̖̩͊̊̒̒̈ ̶̡̛̛̦͎̟̩̬͉̬̺̞̓̌̂͂̆͆͘C̵̡̢̧͖̭̼̘͒́̒͋͊͌ŗ̵̛̘̣̥̕ͅe̷͚̘̮̲̙͎͈̫͗͗͗̊̀ǎ̵̛͕̞͎̿̆̂̕͝t̵̢̛̩̯͙͉̩̱̐́́̈́̕̚ų̷̥͍̥̙̮͔̓͌̂͋̀̓̍͘͝r̴̰̣̩̞̣̾͗̌̕͘e̷̡̛̲͒̉̇̋͊͋͛̈͝s̸͇̘̩̩̜̳͉̹̼̟͗̎̅͐̇̎̕͝ ̴̡̨͚͓̮̩̲͇͒̅̓̾͑̾̚͜f̷̧̳̤͙̩͚̗̑̃̎̇̀̃̐͆̈́ǫ̷̢̞̪̹̲̦̗̪͈̓̂̋͐̓̽̍̈́͝ŗ̶̥͂̑̋́̃̏̑̊͝͝ ̵͙̜̈͋t̸͇̅̊͋͛̚͝ḩ̵̨̺̺̲͔̟̦͔͈̂̀̊̂̍͝ē̶̠͉̥̖̰̥̘͎̍̕ ̷̢̩̘̰̭͚̣͕̲̞̈̄N̶̡͓̭͇̩͍̫̺̭̦͂̄͋̅̊̿̌ǫ̸̮̹̤̖͇͔͑̉̆̌v̴̢͉̼̜͓̣͌͒i̶͈̦̥̓̀̂̈̑͐͊c̵̘̭̩̔͛̓̊e̴͚̱̩̾̈̃̌͒͐͂̒͠
There is no table of contents and two blank pages later, a beautiful hand writing greeted my curious eyes.
Ǎ̶̬̞̠̙̄̒̐́m̷̞̌̀̽̋͗m̴̞̹͔̺͉̩̪͆̄̽̽a̶̷͎͚̖̺̺͕͛̿̉͆̃͊̾̕̚͘Ṫ̶̮͉̿̐̄̕͠ḥ̴̯̜̜̹͎̯̖̈́͒̏̚ͅȩ̸̙̙̬͍͉̼̹̇ ̷̢̨̥͈͔́̏͜ͅg̴͖̣͘o̴̞͚̥̥͖̼͐͆̇͝d̵̫̀͊̿̊͋͆̆̎͐͝ ̷̘̠̟̈́̎̎̉͋ó̴̦̭̪̔͂̌̐͘͝f̸̡̮͙̏͑͝ ̷͍̫̎̏̾̑̆̉̊̍̄̓a̶̪͌̄̈́̓̓̀͘̚͘͜l̴̡̦̞̺͔͔̉͐̆l̷̻̜̟̘͐͒͂̽̓͗͘͠.̷̠̬̇͋͂̚ͅ ̸͓̙͎͓͉̩̲̅͒͊͜L̴̲͒̅ī̵͉̜͊f̸̠͉͙̺͒e̸̘̥̞̤̻̬̬̒̅̀̄ ̸̛̛̘̫̻̒͂̅͝a̶͜͝n̷̤̹̮͎̓̇̾ď̶̨͕͖͈̞̠̱̥̏̀̓̎̅̔̀̀ ̸̧̙͔̤̺́̈́́̋d̵̨̛̜̥̗̼͐̈́e̴̦̾͐̀̽̚͝a̶̪̺̼͔̋̈́̈̀̃ţ̵͍̣̯̼̒̽͒̌̎̆͘ẖ̶͎̤̲̙̙̙̟̫̠̈́̎̽̈͗̕.̵͙͍̲̭͇͊̏̈́ ̵̟̀̑̓́́́̋̕̚͜T̷̞̭̖͖̪̤͇̹͖̑͘h̵̬͓̘̭̓̏̄̀́͂̚ͅe̴̢͓͈̲͖̩̮̬͐͝ ̴̡͇̩̫̘̄̇͌͑͂͠b̵̡͕͕̯͔̻̙͙̄͝e̸̢̥͓̭̝̳͛̒͂̆͝ͅg̴̢̖͍̹̱̝̬̜̅̄̽̄̔̊̕̚͝g̵͓̻̳̓̋̆͋̾̄̔̕͝i̸̝͕̓̃̾n̵̡̨͔̯͎͎̉̍̆̇͒̂̋͠ĭ̵̙̪̽́͝n̶̤͉̜̈̈̓͗̂͘͘͝ġ̶̡̖̙͎̈́̀̂͘͝ ̸̡̬̗̤́ͅo̸̧̡̨̮̗̮͛̚͜ḟ̸̧͕̩̭̮̫̼̿̐̅̔͗̋̓̍̑ ̶̥̐̊͑ͅL̶͉̅̂̊̆i̷̝̘͔̜͋̂̃̾̃̾̓̉̑g̸̱̝̜̩̉́ͅh̵̗̖̥̪̀̄̉̾̃̌͝ẗ̴̗̼͉̾͊̔́̈́͆͘.̶̬̟͎̯̘̟̩̩̹̱͛͆̾̈́̈́̈͑̑̒̕ ̷͕̐̆́F̴̮͖͖͖̩̠̫̼͆͜a̵̮̎́̆̌̔͝t̸̩̥͇͂̒̅͋͆͘̕h̵̺̜̖͚͎͑̏͌̈̈́͆͘ȩ̵̥̞̫͚͚͝r̴̡͔̮͍̥̠͉̞̃̃͑͝ ̴̡̡͈̙͇̳̫̳̜͉̿̈́͊̒̚o̴̹̕f̴̭̲̭͇̺̻͙̞̠̽́̏͆͗ ̸̡̫͓͔͊͊͋̀̐̚P̵̨̲͚̦̝̟̅̉a̶̛̳̜̜̼̜̦̍͜͜ͅt̸̟̘͍̩̪͙̄͐͆̓̓̈̾̒͠a̶̯̹̖̹̽̏̔͝r̷̩̈͛.̶̡͈̦̟̲̼̫͔̬͊̑́̔ ̷̝̟̖͉̭̦̰̼̓̄̊͛̿̚͝T̸̙̏̎̌̈́̑ḩ̷̨̙͙̜̫̻͔͔̰͌ȩ̷̨͔̞͈̫̼̬̜̈́́́̉̓͊̄̚̕͜͝ ̷̢̭̝͓̹̺̰̠͋͂̔̔̍́̄̊͜á̸̦̀̌̾̓d̴̛̘͇̣͎͙͍͓̼̦̈́̑̽̂j̸̢̨̛͇̖̑̇̆̀̊͜u̵͔̱̠̪̩͖̓̄͛̒̈́̕͝͝ͅć̵̢̮̭́̓̏̀͠ä̸͇̲͕̲͖̺̺̞͍͑ͅț̵̨̲̫͈͚̓͋̔̐͛͂͆͝͠o̴̝͖̞̠̮͍̟͂͑̽̌̍̓̇̕r̵̹̞̞̪͓̮͔͔̍͐̄͐̚͘͝
- bla, bla, bla.
There were a lot of titles mentioned, but I already know most of them. I ran my pointer finger at the center of the thick pages and opened it in the middle.
Ş̶̢̮̮̲̻̀́́͒͋̾̈́̍͘̕ͅe̵̹͑̆e̸̡̻̣̮̭̣͎̱̖̪̋͗̉̓̽̈́̇̕͝͠ř̷̵̴̡̡̧̘͎̮͚̳̞̩̤̜̠̲͔͙̮̙̱͍̬̾́̔͗́̒̉͆̈̀̀̐́͌̕͘͝͠͠M̶̨͖̭̝̯̍́͊̇̒ơ̶̧̨̯̺̼̭͔͇̈̿͋̓͒̏̈̚ͅr̸̢̜̻͔̭̟̗̯̓̏̔̏͂̄͊͆͛ţ̷̻̜̬͔͓̞̾͒͑͐͒̅̋͋͜͝a̴̢̲̟͚̔͛͜l̶͚̪̺̤͉͙͍͔͎͕͒̏̒͆s̷̡͉͚̦̯̯̳̝̈̄́̒ ̷̢̘͇̣̪̫͌̽͆͊̽̒͐́͠b̴͇͐̕ḻ̵̠̭̬̪̈̐̏͊̑ë̸̢̤̥̦̥̗̬̖͍́̽̋͂̂̎̕͘s̸̝̰̒̑̽͆̀̆̑̑͘ş̴͉̅͠é̵̢̢̱̯̞d̵͖̞͙̩͇͚̬̐̇̈́͘͜ ̵̳͉̔͊̄̄w̸̨̮̞̱̬̗̦̬͇̏̓̎͗̇͒͗̎i̸̧̺̣̜̞̟̳̗̒́̈̈̇t̸̝͉͇̺̯̥͋̂͜͝ȟ̷̰͉̮͕̙̜͇̯̕͝ ̸̬̜̞̙͇̰́͆͘t̶̢̩̰̺̬̰̟̺͇̒h̶̛̬̘͕̻̥̀̓͗̆͆̅͘e̵̛̘̓ ̶̨͍̝͔̤̭̔̽͌͊́̾̇̀͂ẻ̶̥̞̬̖̼͙͍͂ȳ̶̟̹̮̈̾̾͂̾ë̸̡̺͔͍̩̱̙̗̰́̾̔͜ş̶̰̃͐͂͗̅́͑͌ ̴͉̝̐̓õ̴̔̓͗̅͜͝f̵̡́̀̉̒͑̾͌̚͝͝ ̵̡͍̪̖̑͊͆̄̕͠ͅM̸̡̡͖̣͉̬̙̻̭͙̀̉̈ù̴̠̦̗͍̬̼̗̯̹̖͌ṅ̸̡̧̻̳̮̓̾͘ţ̸̯̦̯̓̀̈́ỉ̶̱̪̮̄͌͛͌g̷̢̧̹̳̩̥̦̼͍͇̎͆̌́͛̃̆̊̌̕ơ̸̟͕̼̮͆͒̂͊̕ͅ.̷̢̻͓͛̾̐ ̸̡̘̤̮͓͇̓͗͛̂̽̕͜ͅT̷̢͈͖̺̙̯͎̔̈́h̵̦̘͕͋ë̵̻͔͇͙́͗̿̍̾͠ÿ̷̨͈̹̖͔̫̙́͆̑̅͜ ̸̨̩̬͎̟̹̥͓̫̍͜t̸̡̢̯̹̖̻͕͆͐̐̔̕̕͝h̸̻̻͌̃̐̃̄̏̂̂̈́̒a̶̼͇̲̱̫͓̺͆͛͠ţ̷̧̛̯͉̬͕̻̇̂̽̓͆́̓̆ ̸̥̭̞̣͌̓̈̏̿̈́̆͗͊̂b̷̝̖̫͚͙̹͕͌̒͑̚͜ͅë̷̙̭̯͚͔̪̻͔̒͛̈́̽̿̊͑̔̌h̴̢͈͙̙̩̪̙̙́̆͆̋̌́̆̾͝͝o̴̡͎̯̝̤͍̲̩̍͆̈̽͝ͅl̶͖̻̤̙̦̓̆̓͂̂̈́͘d̶͙̳̥͍̮̫̫͊ͅ ̴̨̢͚͚̲̮̙̒̉͂͌̾́̌͘̕̕t̸̰̝̪̮̯̲̤͉̋͒͌͘h̷̨̜͖̙̩͈͔͔͈̲̊̈́̓͋͆͛́̚͝e̸̲̘͑̆͘ ̶͖͇͔̯̘̝̘͚̱̻̋͗͑̀̃̒̕w̷̗̜̱̹̻͈̪̳̏̆̋̈́̂̎̽͠o̷̡̡͍̦̟̥̗͓̦͊̀̀̉͗͠ř̶̲̫̣̻̳̘́̆̑͒̅̋͘͜͝l̵̖̖̟̼̹̫̯̦͓̞͆̀̏̃̓̽̔d̸̰̻̑̃ ̷̨͊̎̃̋͗̏s̷̺͋̓̄̃͊̽͜h̸̙̤͚̹͗̈͋a̵̛̟͍̣̩͇̱͍͖̾̈́̎̑͒̌̇͜ḽ̵̨̩̣̤̪̼̗̤͋̈́̍l̴̫̖͌̄̏ ̸̣̖̙̝̪͉̠̾̅̽̋̅͘s̴͍͑e̷̢̓͆͑è̷̡̧̬̰͉͜͝ ̶͈̳̦̿̋̆̈́̉͂̈̇̀͜b̶͚̘͓̟͕̀̇͛̓̈́́͛̋e̵̟̱͆̽̾̄̉́̓͘͝͝n̴̨̥͚̿̾́͠͝é̴͚͓̘́͛͜â̶̖̮͔͇̪͗́̃͘͜ţ̶̮͍̩̎̓̊͝h̸̬͍͈̭̱͚̰͙̀ ̶̢̪͔̏̀̈́t̷̡̛̪̘̰̟͛͗̋͊͑̓ͅh̸̲̝͐̑̃e̶̫͉̻͒͐͌͝ ̸̨̨̩̫̆m̵̢̢̨͔̺͉̦̘̫̍̀̆́̂͐́͜a̶̫̣̖̖͖̯͗̇̚s̸̡͖̯̦̖͆k̴̩̈́̐̈̈́̃͆͝ş̵͈͚͔͖̮͉̹͚̋̂̏̕͜ ̵̧͙̍̈́͂̚͘ŏ̸̞͇̥̮̬̙̠͉͉̫͆͗̏f̵̨͓̳͙̘̞͇̌̒̂̎͐̔͝ ̴̛̤̠̘͙̘̹͇͕͆͜ͅẗ̶͔́̈͆͆͆ĥ̶̟̼̪̥̊̎̈́̌͋͘é̸̙̦͕̜̖̈́̄̏͐͆̕ ̴͈̭̙̜̦̠̼̮̥̺̂̓̚o̷͓̮̰̯̖̙͖̗̍̀͘ͅt̵̨͙̬̳̯̞͎͓̝̘̃̏̈̂͆̎̎́̈͑ḩ̷̪͖̈́̉̒̈̚̚ē̷̥͘r̸̢̫͙̗͓͚͗̈́̍̿̚͠w̵̩̘̿͐̄̍ō̶̺͚̃̓͂̔͠r̴̘̫̦͍̥̈́̒̎͝l̸̲̖̺̜̼͔͈̠͕̿͆̀͋̒͊͘̕͠d̵̡͖͈̞͑̿͐̂͆͂̐̆̍̚l̶̨̡̠͉̅ͅỷ̷̢̦̲͖͔̝͐̓.̵̛͚̘̪̹̳̥̖̰͎ ̶̙͍̘̟̭̥͇͎͍͐̉̑̾̐̅̿S̴̝̠͙̔͊̿̈̾̈͘̕ȩ̸̛̽͂͐́̋͒ĕ̸̞̪̓̊̂̌̚ř̶͙͍̬̘̔͐̂͐͑̎̒̆͠s̴̛̭̜͚̯̞͔̆̇̇̇̂͝ ̷̛͕̟̲̻̦̲͇͌̂̃̈͆͘͘ă̶̺̦̥̇̓̌͛̏͛̕͝ŗ̷̛̜̖͖̼̪͛̄̐̅̅ͅḙ̶̢̮͖͎̩͔̮̩̿̓̀̀̕͝ͅ ̵̟̙̗͉̠͙̳̱͉̾͋̈́͂͋͆̿̚b̶͚͚̘̓͑̉̍̌̈́͘͝͝ŗ̶̼̍̄̇ï̴̙͙̬̖͈͓̝̀̏͊̈́̒̒̊̑̕͜d̵̹̳̪̲̗͙͉̯̉͆̌̚͝ͅg̸̢̛̙͎̗̤͈̗̣̰̪̏̓̅̏̃̓̋̔̏è̷̤̻͕̺̖̜͕̱s̸̛̪̲̈̋̒̃̌̌͋̋̚ ̶͖̬̣̜̝̟̣͕̋̊͂b̴̨́̇͆e̵̡̧̺̲͉͉̖͇͗̔̍͛̈́̕t̶͚͉͈̟̻̙̐́̑͗͂̄́͝w̸̡̠̪͎̏̈͗ȅ̷̗̖̩̈́͂͌̏ͅẹ̶̢͔̺͙̅́n̵̨͕̲̫͙͇̝̓͆̀̚͘̚ ̴̲̙̲̱̻̟́̓̀͗͆̿́̒ṁ̷̻̄́͋̔͊̑̍̈́͝ỏ̷̘r̴̙̺̦͍̟̺̯̣͉̎̓̑̏̕t̸̲͚̒̔́̕ą̸̨̧̩̥̹̘͔̒͛̆̂͗͌͜͠l̷̘̮̙̳͔̖̬̹̣̰̈̍̅̊s̷̜̺̖̦̅̇̓̏͘̕ ̸̖̙͔͖̝͚̘̉͆̑̊̒͌͊͋̇̚à̶̢̛͈̙̜͕͔̣̳́̅̍̿̅̕͘͝n̸̛̛̙̲̬͑͐͐͊͝͝͠d̷̼͙̲̲̜̍͝ ̷͇͋̄̀̔́͆́̚n̵̢͌͑̓̓̊̾͋͘ò̶̼̦̠̋̀͛̾̕n̵̡̪͍̫͉̪͌̃͐̋ ̴̩̠̳̭̻̭̀m̸̡̞̞̺̹̈́̈́̍̽͆͘o̴̜̽r̸͗̇̈́͜t̷̢̡̰͚̪̆̅̊̐à̸͎ļ̷͙͕̪̗̼͆́͜͠ͅs̸̭̆́̈́̑̾̍͋͑͝,̸̢̠͓̳̦͉̝̼̈́̏͐ ̸̘͍̳̝̹̞̺̟̠͇͑͋̌͆̕͝o̶̢̩̗͈̔̏̅̚͝ų̷̦̳͈̥̱̯͓͉̠̈́g̴̥͍͚̩̼̏̈́̐̒̍̕̚̕ḩ̷̞͔̘̻͛̌̍́́͛̂͛̀̋ṯ̶͈̈́̃̚ ̸̳̪̃t̶̩͍͒̊̿o̴̻̙̩̮̠͔̮̿̓͐̃͜͝ ̶̨̝͔͉̬̪̻̳͗̿͜ͅř̵̨̺̟̻̹̹̖̪̬͕̃̂̋̓̇͒͂̈́͝e̶͉̍̊̇̀́̈p̸̡̼̯̥̭̙͈̦̝͒͒̌̒̂̊̚͘͠ạ̸̢̃̌̌̍̉͆͒͠i̶̜̥͙̓̔́̀̃͝r̷̳̖͖͔͌͜ ̵̨̜̦̝̞̬̻̣͉̔̍̍̒̚s̸̰͖̞̮͋̊̍̚͘͠ṯ̷̡̰̝̠̣̈́͊̃̉͑̕r̵̪͎͖̘͎͈͗͗̀͋̒͘͜͝͠ĭ̷̜̙̻̭̲̦͆̀̓͗͠f̵̖͙̣̫̯̮̦͍̈́͐̑̈́̋̅̆͜͝͝ͅề̷̬̓͆̾̿ ̷̮̇̔͛̍̽̀̓b̸̢͇̟̘͓̮̹̯̫́́̓͒͂̀̋́͘ͅȩ̶̢͖̠͉̰̪̩́͌͐͐͋̒̇̿̕ͅt̵̛̙̞̜͖̼̣̀́̉́̅͗͑͘͝w̴̰̹̲̯̫̭̗̑̾ͅè̷̡̪̖̻̻̅̇́͆͘e̸̪̱̹̠͙͎͙̭̽͗̂̌́̉̆̿͜ͅǹ̵̪́͊͐̅̓ ̵͕̐̈̒̉͝r̵̨̧̬͕͙̹̝̂ä̴̦̇͊̍̀̔̈͛̒c̵͍̍͂e̵̯̳͌͋͆́̂͒̈̊͝͝s̶̞͍̪̘̠̣̼̗̞͕͆̓͑.̷̶̵̡̡̢̨̧̢̙̫͉̻̺͉̪̯͍̗̭͈̭̻͉̪̬͗̀̎͗̂̾̐̓͋͂̈̓̋̀͑̍͆̈́̆̚̕̕͜͝͠͠H̷̡̥̜̟́̾̎͊̒o̶̯̤̩̜̠̥̪̼̓̅̿̀̈̅͐̓͜͝ͅẃ̵̢̛̝͕̩͔̭̥̉̈́͐̿͜͝͝ẽ̴͕̘̿̃̔v̸͈̰̫̀̈͊̆̔͘ě̸̺̰̹̉̾r̸̛͚̜͎̩̭̮͚͛͗͌̋,̷̛̣͎̤̖̐̒̎͛̈́̓͑͝ ̶̢̙̖̺̹̫̦͖͑̊̅͊̇͑͆b̵̯͖̼̲̍̑̇̎̈́̍̀͘͝͝e̷̛̳̳̮̎͒̈̄̉̃͒̕w̸̨̫̯͎̲̳͉͑̓̏̉͛͋̔͜a̸̛̙r̵͖̾̐͂̌́̔è̷̲̏̓͂̅͝͝ ̵͖̗̲̫̼̭͖̘͖̒́͂̍͂̓̆͘̕͝t̷̘̝̮̑͜h̶̖̰͇̖̍̍̓̿e̸̹͍͚͆͜͠ ̴͕̦̊͗͐̅̄̈́d̶͎͔͉̬̳̫̱͌́̈͑̊͒͘͝a̴̡͉̞͔̹̬̦̩̞͝ŕ̴̢̝̙̻͎̭͐͋̾̆͛k̴̙͖̜͓̟̱̉̑̈͘ ̶̮̙̲͛͌̇͛͝ś̵̼̞̲̯̖͚͇̀e̷͉͖͐e̷̢̖̫̲͔̬͍̱͂r̶͉͔̜̺̅͆͛̾́͘̚s̵͍̠͓̈́̃̄̓͂̍͑̾͑̅ ̴͎̰̱̞̣͒͐̚w̸̧̟̻͓̦̏̆̄̿̆͝͝ḧ̵͖͎̺͔̮̫͎͔̍ơ̸̰̘̖̻̪͙͌̈́̾͌̎̾̊̈́ ̷̰̓̾̀̀͐͠s̸̹̦̝̫̙̤̑͂ȩ̸̢̰͕̤͕̖̝̍e̴̜͙͗͑̉̂͝k̵̢̼̤̪̟̈́ ̷̧̛̹̞̝̲̗̜͕̹̪͋͆e̵͖̝̰͉̙͓̯̦̝͕̐̌̾͂̃̓͂̚v̵̛̳̗̘͔̠̥͕̑̀͂̄̆͋͗͆ȅ̶̡̡̬̠̝͈͎̼͈͊͛̋̽̓̕ṇ̸̡̠̬̲͌̇͋̃̾̃͋͆̇ ̸̡̼̞̖̟̟̱̣̞̺͌͝ḿ̷̧̭̼̖̟̈́͊̈́͋̓̌̂̚͠o̵̧̗͒̎͂̌̄̀̓ŗ̸̩̠̙̞̞̰̘̔̐̀e̶̥͙͍̲͈̭̫̽̈́ ̶̢̭̦̯̪̫̪̪̥͐̋p̶̢̬̻̔̋̂̆̿̐͂ò̵͇͙͙̖̮̥̯̈́̄̽͊̀̆w̴̼̰̎̑̈́͒̔̃̐̕͠e̶̡̩̘͛̑̐͛̽̀̕ŗ̸̭͎͓͗̆́̒͗̕ͅ,̵̹̪̘̜̱̰͋̿̆̇́̄͘͝ͅ ̷̝̲̣̅̅̐̈́̉̈̓̀̚ţ̷̰̬͖̖͖̖͕̀͊̐h̵͈̟̥̳̲̱̟͆̂̿̂͗e̵̘̗̱̘͙̅͂ỳ̴̝͔̩̣̠̯̝̫͔̑̏͝ ̴̨̱̜̭̲͙̼͍̣̟̀͆͛̓̉̾̽͝w̸̢͇̮̬͙̠̖͌͝͠ͅh̴̢͍͇̗̟͓̙̞̺͖̾̐ǒ̸͇̤͆̑͐̓̾̀̉̍̕ ̷̹̟͐̍̀̈͛̏̓̔̚s̴͈̯̹̭̱͚̮̑̈́̾̃́̈́ę̵̮̟̦̗̜̘̣͙́́̒̈́r̴̡̧͔̭̩̩̮͍͙̆̾̿́̑͛͑̆v̵̧̙̝̫̟̯̟̩͎̌e̶̛̩̗̝̜̅̏̂̎́̀̚ ̸̺̜̲̖̞̻͇̂͆͒̀͌̇ű̵̡̩̰̠̪͎̠̝̯͕̋̈́̽͗̍͝ņ̵̢̺̼̰͛́̾̚͝ḑ̸̨̝̦͎̰̪͍͌͐͜ͅe̶͙̼̫̳̊̒͑̆r̷̡̥̞̮͕̽͘ͅ ̷̧̫̥̺̫͈͎̿͆̐͘͜H̸̢͓̼͉̦͔͎̄̇͛́̈́̅͋̓̕a̵͎̩̫̯̬͓̥̻͊͘͘͘͠͝t̶̢̟̻͉͓͈̹̖̙͙̏̈́ã̵̻̫͕̼̓̃̽̓̍͗̚n̴̹̖͗ ̷̺̗̖̲̪̞̀̋̍͆̃̚̕s̷̢̡̛̯̻̳̠̙͈̥͙ť̸͙̼͈͓͚͇̻̦̞̠̑̉̅̌͘̕e̸̛̹͈̖͇̹̤̞͚̾̊̀̀̀̍͝͠͝á̸̰̻͈̽́͝l̷̢̡͓̦̘̫̲̠̹̈́̇̔̊͑͆͆̆ ̸̨̰̯͇̦̞̬͙̒̈̉̿̏̌l̵̢͍̣̖͔͓̄̎͠͠i̷̬͗͊̈̀v̵͕̮͚͊̐̔̀̍̈́͐̀͒̆ȩ̶̗̱̦͙̩̠̈ṡ̷̨͎͇̩͓̻̯͎̇̓̀͌́̈́͝ ̷̧̧̡̗̙̾͌̅̓͑̚̕͠f̴̡̢̯͓͇͔͋̅͐͒͋̊̈̚͜͝ǫ̶̠̱̩̺̱͔̳̹̈́ŗ̸̛͎̦̱̀͐̓̄̒̀̐ ̴͓̝̍̇̋̓̇ḓ̵̝͈̄̏̈͆̊̔͆͛̕á̶͈͖̙͗̎̓̍̑r̷̛̥̈̂̈͛͗̒͋̏ͅḱ̵̲͈̮̈́̿̏̄̂ ̴̗̮̼̳̤̩́͂͂̆̽͒p̶̢̨͎̳͉̈̈̐̊̈̓̇u̶̟͗͝ŗ̸̝̘͗̈̅̽̾̅̈́̊p̵͖͑o̸̫̤͍̟̝̟͎͈͛̌́̆͂͒ͅs̸̲̺͔̲͍̲͖̻̎̿̅͂ĕ̵̞̍̃́s̴̢̞̞̳͔̱͑̑̋͂̑̐,̴͖̲͍̍̐̀̈̈ ̷̣̮̼̩̤̆͒̈͛̄͑w̸̳͕͇̫̙͍͔̘͚̤̐̓̎̑̂̒̏̅h̵̦̺̪̰̻̫̽̓̑ò̶̩͕̣̤̭̝̪̺̜͍̿͒̈̈́͗̋̂͝ ̴̮̭͎̮̉f̶̹̳͔̝͉̮͔̼̊͒̉̉̏̈͋̔̕͘͜ͅĺ̸̨̪̟̺͐͌́̅͛̐͗͆͘͜ã̷̭͎̆͝s̵͍͂̆͘͘h̵̛͔̬̪͔̤͈̲̞̫̭̑̐͂́͠e̴̜͔͖͙͌͆s̸̯͍̈͌͆̈ͅ ̷̥̊́̽t̸̺̺̜̱̰̰͙̬̮̖̉̎͒̋͆̑͂̃̕ȟ̷̦̟̻̮̺͍̂̉́̒̃͝͝ę̸͉̇̓̈́̑̉͒͐͠ ̶̩̹̙̠̑͂͊̈̊̀͜ͅb̶̦̰̝͕͚̈́̇̍͋̒̓̈̀̕r̵̞̖̎̓͌̎͊͒̆͊a̴̧͖̤̲͉̳̓̐̍̿͛̐n̶̛̥̺͇͌̀͒̆̉̕d̷̤͌̄́ ̶̡͇͔̦̰̑̒̐̑̍͑͜͠͠o̴̧̘̙̻̥̦̘̱̭̬͗̉͐̌̈́̽̿̉͒̀f̵̨̨͖͚̭̥̫̘̺͙̓̌̿͊̓̾ ̷̧̪̘̥̀̊̂͑D̴̘͍̏́̎̚ė̴̢̛̱̟̣̩̰͊͑̂̈́̑̔͘͝a̴͓̻͇͎͖͕̬̽́̉̆̃̈̍͠ẗ̸̰́͐͜ḥ̶̨͚͙̄̈́͂͌̋̓,̸̢̡̬͓̼͚̗́̔̿͠ ̶̨̧̧͉̟̥̞̯͊̏ͅͅḟ̵̝́o̶͔͕̦̽͑͒̈̐̅r̸̤̞͉͙̪͚̪̾́͠ ̴̗͇͚̺̖̖̾̒̆͜t̴͓̥͓̤̯̩̦̬̰͑̎̃́̎̿̌̓̕̕ḣ̸̩̘̝ẽ̴̮͕̫̟͙̲̥̥̃͒ŷ̵̧̡̥̞̭̣͚̱̬̕ ̶̻̻̞̆̋̅d̸̥̩̦̳̫̽̋͜͠o̷̧͓̩̪͖͍͔͂̈́̏͘ ̶̧̩̟̣̖͉̲̹͘n̷̻̭͍̣̲̟̟̓̔͘͝ó̵̡̧͉̺͓̥͖̠̺̪͑͑̚ ̷̢̦͉̠̔̐̆͛̌̀̽͘h̴̢̧͓̭͎̖̜̔͑͐̕̕͝e̵̢͓̯̗̜̞̊̔͑͋͒̕s̶̨͚̙̮̤͍̈́ĩ̶̡̨̨̜͍̇̓͒̈́̏̇̊̎t̶̼̦͊̈́ͅȁ̸̬̂̒ţ̵̱̜̲̜̺͚̟͆̔ę̶͎̪̥͍̫͙̙̔͗̾̀̓͒̽̽̐͜ ̶̟͔̟͑͊̕ţ̸̡͉͚̬̠͓͛̽͒͆̊̆̕̕͜o̴̢̩͂̂̒̐͊͂͠ ̴̧͇͖͙̻̮͇̾͐̉͘͠͝k̸̡̛͎͎̼͍̘͎̝̜͍̂͆̋̌̀̈̊̋i̶̛̼̫̟͉̋̒̓̈͠ļ̴̛̛̠̺̹̠̠͎͎́͋̎̒̄ļ̶̯͔̤̟̩͖͈̩̱͂̈́̈͆́͒̎̕.̴̶̷̡̰̦͖̹̝̺̭̟̥̩͔͖̰̼̠̖̻̞̒͛̿̋̀͆̑͑̐́̍̂͊͐̌͘͜Ţ̷͉̻̫̗͈̤̹͎̟̽̔͛h̸͔̘̳̬͇͈̫͇͕̊̃͐̽ḛ̷̡̝͍͕̖̟̻̲̖̇͋͆́͛̃̒͝i̸̥̳̜̿̿̀̂́̄̄͝ṙ̶͔̲̩̃̿̃̔̌͊͘͜͝ ̷̤͔͍̉̓̓̓̽̓͛̆͛͘e̶̯͎̺͕̦͍̟͉̦̓̂͜y̷̨̨͕̜͙͓̺̝̫̅͗̈͆̈́̿̿è̵͉̣͈̻͎̜̗̖̳̳̋̈͝͝s̸̢̫̰̞̳̲͚̻̊̉ ̸̡͉̲̮̯͍͙͕͆ā̶͍̣̲̹̈̾r̷͇̺̣̈́̃͂̌ͅe̵̦̊̀ ̸̧̙͎̙͚̮͖̗͇̟̃̍̕͘a̴̡͇̗̬͙̝͔̓̇̈́̿͂́̀s̵̮̗̰͕̹̮̪͌͋̀̀̅͂͗̑͘͜ ̸̢̡̢̛̝̞͍̹̤͖̭̓͗̄͆͠b̵̜͓͉͈̀͒̾l̴̲̾͌͌͘͘ę̵̧͍̙̫̯͎̯̪̂͐͌̑̌̆̀̚͝͠à̸̧̱͈͉̍̔̀̓̕k̸̢̝͙̤͒́̽̂͆͋̎̽̆̍͜ ̸̨͈̮̘͚͍̊͆a̷̡̘̹̱̟̯͆̓͝͝s̴̥̃̑͐̀͠ ̸̧̧̪̬̣͉͎̝̈̈́̀̓͝t̴̨̡̖̺͖̲̮͎͓̑̆̔̂͜͝h̵̨̤̪̘͎͕̻̐͌ẻ̶̡̝̱̜̲͈̯̗̳ ̷̨̧̳́̊̓͆ơ̸͎͈̱̹̰č̶̡̼̯̟́͌ͅë̸̛͙̩̞̩̖̀̿̕̚a̸̯̹̙͔͈̘͚̓̍̊̓̈́̕͝͝ņ̵̛͕̼̹̙̇͋̈̏̔̕̕ ̷̥̬̮̳̗̦̹̅̆͒̚ͅa̴̲̽́̈́̅t̶̺̰̱͇̬̓͌̏͒̀́̌͑͘͝ ̶̨̠̦̫̿͌́̓ṋ̶̨̠̫̈̔̊́͋̽̓͠ĭ̷̜͙͈͚̥͙̠̇̄͝g̸̡̟̓́̀̉ĥ̶̢̩̜̹́ͅt̸̖͖͉͈̦̬͑̂͋͛̆̓̾̏͋̑ͅ,̵̨̙̦͚̮̙̬̉̈́̀͂͝ ̴̼̻̉ͅb̴̡̙̳̭̞͍̰̈́̌̐͆̂̎͜o̵̼̞̘̽̆́͠t̶̲͉̟̖̮̻̦͑͘͝ͅt̸̞̀̍͐͒̐o̴̡̦̟͓͑̓m̵̡̧̖͍͎̭͊̈́̉́̔̈̆́ͅl̸͕̩̰̦̦̤̈́̈͗̎̈́́͒̓ẻ̶̡̡̹̻̫̀̇̃s̵̗̪͉͈͙̙̯̓̋̍̎̌͑͐̔̏͗ͅs̷̢̻͇̰̩̈̾ ̸̢̡̪̺͖͎͔̓͒͛̍̔͠ͅá̸͍̺̟̮̌̑̓̋̚͝n̷̬̬̻̙͉̻̣͒̉̎͐͜͠ͅd̶̯̞͖͙̝̞̆̊ ̸̡̤̮͎̝͕̰̪̣͗̃̑̎̚͝͝ͅd̷̨̛͌̈́̀́̔̎̆͒̕a̵̺̥͊̔̏͌ŗ̶̡͖̙̜̤͗̂͛̓̽͛̈́̌̆͝ͅk̷̥͕͚̮̎̃͆͝ ̷̹̗̫̬̳̀̀͐̏̍̌͂͘͠͝ḯ̸͎̘͉͌̓̈́͋͝͝ǹ̷̘̭̋͋̉̑̓̆͝ ̸̧̧̙̬̝̦̎̉̋t̷̮̺͖̦͛̐̑̀̃̈̔͒̍h̶̡̡̝͈̻̪̪̹̀̐̄̽̽̆͐̀͗̒ͅe̴̹̦̺̭̐̀͌͜i̶̹͉͂̊͋͂̇̈́̓͒͝r̶̼͙̦͇̦͑͌̽̽͐̔͂̿̇̕͜ ̵̨͎̝͇̹̱̗̪͂̌̃̾͘e̴̩̦͑̏̍̕ṋ̷̢̯̋̌̈́͆̃ď̷͕̽ę̷̤̠͔̻̩̙̖̩̦̆̈͑͠ā̴̧͉̻͕͒̐ͅv̶̧̛͓̤̱̦͌̚͘͘ǒ̴̢͓̹͙̫͙̈́̈́͂̏r̸͓̤̖̭̳̃̽͊̐̎̇.̸̡̼͚̚ ̸̦̳̆̌͋̾̌̿A̶̛̩̮͔̫̜̹̟͌̄̈́͐n̶̮̰̿͑d̶̡̛͚̊͒͊͌̓ͅ ̸̫̜̓m̴͚̹̟̆́ơ̸̞r̵̬̖͈̬͔̤̩͓̰͗̈́͑͆͜e̷̥͍̞̤͈̖̺̥̭̝͂̈̀̋̒͊̕͠ ̴̩̼̬̪̜̖͎̼̖̋͜ȩ̷̗̺̺̣̙̜̞̔͂͆̆ą̷̦͇̐r̸̼̺̋̐̋̍̅ņ̴̡̰̝̲̳͉͉̞̭̉͐̇͝e̴̢̢̛̖͚̗̺͋͗̑͗̀̾̚͝s̴̳͔͙̰̻̍t̴̗̮̱̼̺͋l̵̙̉̒y̴̦̥͙͙̱͎͂́̓͊̾́,̶̧͉͚͕́̀̏̆̍̎̑͆̕ ̶̧̨͕͚̬̦̥̦̎̍̍͐̓̇̅̓̚͠t̸̳̣͉͚̝͔͈͊͌̇a̶̧̝̟̪̠̹̺͆ķ̷͔̝̩̜͎̙͑̔̑̌́͐̚͝ę̵̢̯̦̙̹̮͈̮̺͋́̒̑̕ ̴̡̩͉͎̳͓͚̙̎̏͆̾̐̾͊̀ẖ̸͎̤̭͉̞̜̻̝̊̈́͗́́͠ę̶̭̩̰͐ȩ̶̣̌̏̈́̍͜d̵̢̧͍̬̣̩̞̫̾͂̿̈́̆̏͘̕͝͝ ̸̫̝͕̲͉̰̓̽̀̄̿̌̏̅͠ḟ̶̟̯̓̇̇ő̶̮̈̋͊̎͂̎͌̇͝r̵̢̢̥͖͈̜̬͑͜ ̶̛̫͈͚̦̼͒͒͊ͅṫ̸͚̱̼̩h̶̡͕͇̼̼̪̟̹͒̎̕̕e̸̗̎̔ ̵̻̟̮̩̙̜̫̟͖͂͑͜i̵̳̮̐̇̄͒͝n̷̘̳͚͈̬͔̞͉̯̻̑̌̊͊́̒̉͌s̸̤͎͋̑̎̿̈̕͝i̸̡̯̟̬̾̀̐̓ģ̵̨̮̪̥͙̙̲̌̿̈́͂̆ͅņ̵̳̬̜̩̜̬͝î̵̡̥͖͍̜͙̙̝̬͎̎͋a̶̡̫͕͂́͜͜ ̸̨̝̲̥̖̲̳̫͒̅̈͋̎͊o̷̡͔̪̬͇̫͎̬̮̐̔̀̔̂͂f̴̳͎͍̠͚̟̈́̑́̈̄̾̋̃̀͝ͅ ̵̢̡̻͈̩͖̠̺͍̌̆͊͑͌̚ͅm̷̧͈̦̎́̐̃̊́́̒̋̕á̶̬͚̣̰̻̘̬͎l̵̝͆̀̋̄̚ê̴͖̟̯̤̳͇̗͈͂̐̈́v̸͈̣̙̜̱̱̯̓͒̓̉͊͒̈́͘͘o̷̠͎̖̻͔͇̣͙̊͂̽́̈́ͅl̴̻̭̥̮̩̩̟̻̔̀̓̆̇̎ͅͅę̴̩̦̭̖̋̍͑͝n̶̟͔̉͛̃̍͒͠ċ̶̛̛͈̬̫̋̅͑e̸̝̺̲̮̟̜̗̍͐͂̉͝͝.̴̡͔̺̰͍̲͉̱̏̑̔̋͘͝ ̴̛̛͓̐͗͗̽̑T̶͈͚̙̠̈́̽̒͋͜h̴͈͉͔̜̺̾ͅȩ̵̹̼͖̫̐̐̅̾͌̚͝ ̸̢̗̮͎͓͉̜̪̽͛́̍̃č̸̩̙͗͋l̸̛̯̬̳̩̔͛̆͂o̴̻͕̓ͅc̶̹̤̥͔̯̺̃̓̿͑ͅk̷̨͔̞͓̹̘̤̩͉̍̽͋̈̂ ̷̬͍̖̞̜̿̀̀o̴͕͕̮̥̹͙̓͒́͠f̶̡̢̭̟̿̃̇̈̈́͝ ̵͈̽̒̒̇̓͐̎̒̇̈́d̶̨̜̭̳̝̗̂̂̏̿̒͒͐͝ê̶̢̼̼̱͎͔̣͕̮̰̓͂̌̿͛́̀͘͠a̷͇̲͇̘̲̰̩̿͆̈͗̓̌͗͐ṫ̴̻͆͠h̷̰͍̳̋͆̋͒̐́̿̄̕͝ ̶̭̟̥͖̤͊͊ạ̴̈́̆̇̐̉̓̓͂t̴̪̱̣͖̻̯͋͆̌͒͂̕ ̶͙̲̙̍t̴̡̤͇̖̬̬̔̇̄̐͛̒̏̕͝h̵̛̬̳̹̟͒͊́͛͆̍͛̚ȩ̴͔̺͕͍̱͚̊̾̐̉͂͐̉̓̂ ̶̧͔̲̮͚͕̹̬͈͍̒̏̐͋̃̚r̴͇͓̓͂͠ͅi̴̼̳̿͂̈̆̀̎̕͘g̴̣̉͌̃̉̊̃̔͛̆͠h̴̼͙̥͉̓̀̅͒̅̽̚͝t̶̛̝͎̗̀̃́̂̑͑ ̶̫̝͚͚̹̲̠̈́̉͗̂̈́̅̆͂͘͠ş̴̦͇͎̬͈͍̝̘͙̇̈́͠i̵̡̲͚̊̔̈́́̎d̶̙̟͊͝ȇ̵̼͍̔̀ ̷͖̩̠͕͈̘̣̎̑͋͑̅̀̑̑̔͝ò̵̧̟̹̫̻̂͂̂͋̓̔̓͘͝f̴̡̜̰̀ ̸̻̠͍͇̞͕̗̱͙̋̀̆̌̓̂̓̕t̷̢̢͕͙͕̊͜h̶̬̫͊̓͒̆͑́̓͗̚̚è̵̡̡͎̹͎̺͈͓͖́̑̏̾͆̑͋̚ ̴̗̰̀͂̅́́̀c̸̟̹͈͉̝͔͖̱̪̯̐́͂h̴̢̺̼͈͌́͜ͅe̷̠̳͎̯͑̃s̴̨̻̠̩͇̜̬̓̓̃̓̊̓̓̚t̴̢͕̖̺̣͆͛́͛̀̌͂̊̈͘,̸̖̾͑̆͆͝ ̷̲̹̂͆̈́͊͊͝͝f̷̡̨̗͙̹͊ǭ̷͖̹̲͑́̈́̀̚̚r̵̰̬͖̘͋͗̏͋̔͋̅̒̓̄ ̶̡̾̅̀͊̏͐í̴͕͖̃̓̾ṱ̵̨̡̼̜͈̰̖̩̈̓̋̃̋̐͑̎͝ ̶̫̳̺̔̾͗̍͒̐͒̏ḯ̵̥̦̫̺͕̩͋͛͊s̷̮͔̔̏̀ ̷̘̲̍̍̎̿̆t̷̬͙͊̆͠͠h̷̖͆̈́͑͋͆̚͠͝e̸̢̥̯̹̻̭͚͐͒̈̋̕͜ͅ ̴̱̬̤͖͓͈̗̻̥̩̀̈́̈́̿̅̈́͠͝m̵̢̛̼̺̟̤̻̪̜̖̼̊ã̷͚̊̔̎r̷̢̺̬̬̭̣͕̱̎̈͗̉k̷̘̒͊̽͗ ̸̨͐̐̊͐̌̿̕̕͝o̶̡̡̙͎̜̗͓̥͈͖͌̑f̵̙̊ ̶̢̖͓̣̗͊́͜͠H̷̢̥̗̥̭̊̄̑̕ä̷̺͖̟̝̝̹́̋͛́̈̇͆͠t̵̩̱̗̟̥̮̋̓͌̈́̐a̵͙̅̅̄̌͘ṇ̷̻̝̝̻̥̬̮͔͆̿͒̏̌̇̑̈̓͜.̴̥̻̞̻͕̫̙̩̟̈́̾͆̂͜
Below the paragraph is a hand painted picture of the symbol. I put my hand over it feeling the dents of the inks that colored the thick lines drawing a clock. However, instead of numbers are symbols that would have been unknown to me, if not for the legend below it.
The first is hair, second - skin, third - eyes, fourth - feet, fifth - ears, sixth - teeth, seventh - liver, eighth - stomach, ninth - kidney, tenth - lungs, eleventh - heart, and lastly body.
Despite feeling confused by the lack of explanation, I turned the page over and saw sketches of what seemed to be human. Except the drawing of the person has animal attributes. Like wings, and talons. Below it, read,
v̴̫͈̪̭̅̉̎̅̽̂͘a̸̻̩̺̥͒̓̆͆̍g̷͓̤̊̎́͂̽̿͠ą̵̻͖͉̩͙́͂̈͊̆̅̈́͘͜r̴̡̡̼̭͖͉̬͙̗͙̋y̷̨̡̬̬̭͈̙̘̾
"We're here."
I quickly shut the book and hid it in my bag before looking outside, into the huge trees that stretched into the earth with their gnarly roots. I'll continue reading it when I get the chance. For now, I need to focus on the journey. I stepped out of the carriage and roamed my eyes at the scene in front of us, absolutely slack-jawed.
"Beautiful..." I couldn't hide my awe.
"I guess we herbalists do have a sense of camaraderie in tastes." Our guide muttered, smiling as he gazed up at the lush branches of the mystical trees. "That was the first thing I said when I first saw it, too."
I continued to admire it, feeling entranced by the atmosphere it radiated. It looked very much alive as if it was a living being that was breathing.
"It's a forest." Azrael muttered, oblivious of what we were talking about. He skillfully unmounted his horse to stand next to me with a clueless demeanor while looking at the trees.
Of course he doesn't understand.
Shaking my head at his lack of appreciation, I thanked our guide before parting ways. The herbalist returned to Ashinlu, while Azrael and I entered the forest, following a trail the herbalist pointed at earlier. The deeper we walked, I noticed the plants are thriving more than usual. I stopped to check the soil, but it wasn't anything special.
"How odd..." I frowned as I stood up and looked around. Maybe it's because it's rarely visited by humans, so it is not as disturbed. Its notoriety surely helped preserve the ecosystem.
Azrael stopped behind me, as well.
"It'll be noon, soon."
I didn't reply and only followed him to a flat grassy area, hidden from the pathway. Thanks to the food we bought, we didn't have to hunt like before. The interaction has lessened to the bare minimum.
Not until we met a wild animal, anyway. Or rather- what looked to be a wild animal, as I've never seen something so grotesque before. I've seen animals from nature documentaries. From hippopotamuses to snakes to weird aquatic creatures, but never an animal that looks like an elk with eyes like a snail and human hands for legs.
I stopped dead in my tracks as I accidentally took a glimpse of the mangled carcass it was eating. I nearly vomitted, but I quickly held it in as I tried to focus my eyes on the creature warily. Blood was all over the path, and even bits and pieces of meat hang by the bushes near the scene of the crime. I began to retreat in horror, thinking I would definitely be another meal if it sees me.
"Slowly." Azrael was quick to cover my mouth before I could make a gagging sound. "Don't make a-"
A loud crack of a dried branch echoed under my feet and that was all it took for the animal to discover us.
The slimy eyes turned to us in alarm while Azrael quickly sat me on the horse. "Hold tight." As soon as he said that, a loud guttural sound escaped from the creature's throat.
"What- Oh my god- Azrael, get on quick-!" I shrieked, noticing the animal-creature was fully facing us with an unfriendly growl.
Thankfully, Azrael was quick as he hopped behind me, and steered the reigns away from the creature and the trail towards the mysterious forest.
An unholy screech echoed behind us, making my hair stand on ends. I didn't have to look back to know that it's following. Judging by the sound of leaves rustling scarily behind us, I'm guessing it's hot on our tails.
"Are we going to die? Oh my god! I don't want to die yet! I don't even know what that thing is! I can't die not knowing what killed me!"
"Calm down, Miss. This horse is reliable."
"What the heck! How are you so calm!? Did you see how that monster looked at us!? We're food! We're foo-wahh! Poisonous leaves! Poisonous leaves everywhere!!" I shouted until my voice turned hoarse, slashing through the leaves that appeared left and right while we horsed our way through the forest. Thankfully, I was able to get rid of the deathly path of poison with my adrenaline powered frantic swings of the machete the herbalist had offered us for protection.
Soon, I felt the horse slowing down, but I didn't stop swinging the blade and I continued to scream, until I felt Azrael hold my arm down. "It's okay now, Miss. The creature seemed to have been pierced by a branch while chasing us. We're safe now." He continued to repeat the last sentence and I broke down crying, but didn't let go of the machete just yet.
"What the hell was that..!? Why does it have human arms!? It's so uglyyy! It's so freaking uglyyy!" I sobbed as I felt him try to take the machete from my tight grip. I only let him take it, however, when he assured me yet again that we are definitely safe. Later on, he helped me get off the horse- or rather, I hopped on to him and refused to let go, as my legs have lost all their strength.
"Miss Sierra. The danger is past. Please calm down."
I nodded, still gasping as I tried to stand on my own. I held on to the horse for support and that was when I saw a scratch on my arm.
"What... What..?" I stared at it in horror. Soon my vision began to spin and all I could distinguish was the green color of the forest. Damned poisonous plants... My eyes rolled back into their sockets.
"Miss Sierra..? Miss-!" Azrael's panicked voice faded along with my consciousness.
***End of Chapter***
A/N: Is it to difficult to read? *cackles