[Book]Whispers in the Woods

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Fran
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[Book]Whispers in the Woods

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Whispers in the Woods

by Iona Stone-Shield, Witchhunter

Part 1

I pen this account with trembling hands and a racing heart. What we were led to believe was a noble cause has swiftly turned into a horrific nightmare that haunts me still. The village of Riverwood sent word of strange happenings - livestock been slaughtered, people plagued by nightmares, children gone missing and rumors of an enigmatic witch residing deep in the woods. 

A band of stout-hearted witch hunters, including my brother Agnar and myself, set forth to rid the land of this evil. I had always known the woods could be treacherous, but we had trained for this. How naive we were. Our leader, famed crusader, Ser Alric, was convinced it would be an easy task. The tales were exaggerated, he said, urging us to see the task through. "Witches are guile, smart and deceitful," he insisted. "But they are not invincible." 

We entered the woods at dawn, with the morning’s light breaking over the snow-capped peaks. There were six of us. All driven by a shared purpose. We were bound by the desire to protect the innocent and avenge lives cut short by dark magic. I felt valor course through my veins, particularly beside Alric, whose charisma and strength inspired us all. 

Yet, from the moment we entered the forest, I began to feel wrongness in the air. The trees stood twisted and ancient, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers, covering the path in shadow. It felt suffocating, as if the forest itself sought to swallow us whole. But we pressed on, motivated by the resolve to avenge the broken lives and shattered communities and hope that one day bards would sing songs about us.

The first night was uneventful, but by the second day, the forest grew thicker, the sunlight dimmed, and shadows danced at the edges of our vision.  As we trekked deeper, the whispers began. At first, we dismissed them as the rustling of the wind, but they became clearer, shaped by an unseen voices, like a fragment of a forgotten song echoing through the trees. The further we walked, the more disoriented we became. Even the sun’s path seemed to betray us, sinking low as we wandered endlessly through the woods. 

By the end of the third day, panic rippled through the group. We had lost our way - this fact haunted us like a specter. We took turns trying to navigate, hoping to catch a glimpse of the stars or the sun, but each time we attempted to retrace our steps, the forest shifted. Every turn led us to the same disorienting paths, like the forest conspired against us. We began to lose morale. Tensions rose; we were not alone. The witch was somewhere among us.

The first to vanish was Sa-Keepa, Argonian hunter and skilled tracker. He disappeared without trace from his tent during the night. A wave of unease washed over us, but as witch hunters, we pressed onward, determined not to let fear gain ground. Snow began to fall heavier, muffling our cries for Sa-Keepa.

The deeper we ventured, the more disoriented we became. Each tree looked eerily similar. "Didn’t we just pass this one?" Zara, skilled Redgurad archeress, asked. My heart began to race as I stopped in my tracks to peer at a particularly twisted trunk that seemed all too familiar. "I swear we’ve walked in circles," Elara, our healer and priestess, murmured, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and frustration. The trees whispered doubts that echoed in our minds, intertwining with our breaths as we began to question not just our sense of direction but also the very fabric of our reality.

Soon, the next to go was Elara. I heard her cry, and as I turned to comfort her, she was gone, swallowed by the shadows. "What do you mean she’s gone?" Agnar blurted out, his voice rising with panic. "She was right behind us! She wouldn’t just-" "Focus! We can’t panic,” Alric urged, "Stay close together!" he commanded, the tone of authority returning as he rallied us. But the air felt thick with fear.

The group clustered together, heads turning and eyes darting. With every rustle of branches, the forest felt larger, more menacing - an impenetrable labyrinth conspiring to keep us apart. We exchanged glances, the fear still coating our hearts but also igniting a flicker of determination. As we gathered in a tight circle, actionable hope glimmered in Alric’s unwavering gaze. "One… two… three. Elara!" Our voices rang out into the eerie silence, but it was met with nothing but the whispers from the wind through the trees. The woods felt impossibly vast, our calls swallowed whole in the endless expanse.

The true horror began that night. It was just after twilight when the first madness struck. Alric came to us, speaking of strange visions that danced in the fog - figure draped in tattered robes beckoning him farther into the woods. We tried to dismiss it, chalking it up to fatigue, but even I could feel a gnawing presence and awareness hovering just beyond our periphery.

Then Agnar turned on Zara, rage building in his eyes. “You think you can lead us out? You’re the one who brought us here!” It was unlike him - his optimism and bravery were long gone, replaced by fear and wrath. With a single swing of his axe, he lunged at her, missing just by inches as she dodged, a scream escaping her lips that betrayed her disbelief. 

From that moment on, we started to turn against one another - drawn apart like leaves in autumn, the witch's presence manipulating our minds. Confusion morphed into paranoia. We struggled to remember who had said what, who had brought us here, and what our original purpose was. Follow the witch. Find her. We convinced ourselves that the witch toyed with our minds. Was it a spell? Or were we simply unraveling in the face of our imminent doom?

Part 2

We were down to four: Ser Alric, Zara, Agnar and myself, trying to find our way out of the forest, out of the snare from which we were afraid none of us would return. We trudged in silence, the sound of our footsteps muted by the thick underbrush. The sunlight struggled to penetrate the fog, casting an eerie gloom over our path. We walked for hours and with each step, exhaustion clawed at us. The weight of fear hung heavy in the air, settling on our shoulders like a damp cloak. The whispers grew louder, haunting melodies entwining with the rustling leaves.

The night fell heavy, suffocating, and just as we were about to raise our tents, we stumbled upon a clearing bathed in a ghostly light. A crude cabin stood before us, its walls adorned with twisted roots and bones, pulsating with dark energy. This was the witch’s lair, the dwelling of all our fears made manifest. 

Panic coursed through us. What horrors awaited inside? But then Alric stepped forward, his voice cutting through the fear like a blade. "The only way out of this forest is to kill the witch! We must go in!" His refound courage ignited a spark within us, a flicker of hope that pushed us toward the threshold of that shadowed door. We entered the hut, our hearts pounding, prepared to confront the darkness lurking within.

Inside, the space felt small and suffocating, the walls lined with rough-hewn timber that bore the scars of time and neglect. The walls were adorned with shelves filled with bizarre trinkets and oddities: skulls from creatures I had never seen, twisted roots that seemed to writhe in the dim light, glistening jars filled with unnatural substances and totems bound in hair and bone. Yet, to our dismay, no witch awaited us.

Fueled by a mix of fear and desperation, we set fire to the hut, with every torch raised high and every accusatory shout, we had channeled our anger and fear into the roaring fire, watching as the flames consumed the structure that had haunted us. Believing we were destroying a piece of her power. Ashes danced in the air as we turned away, convinced that we had taken a step toward our freedom.

With the weight of victory instilling new energy in us, we set about making camp for the night. 
We thought we had done something brave, something noble and we raised our tents full of optimism.
"Tonight, we can finally rest easy," Agnar declared, raising a mug of homemade ale for all to see. "To freedom from the witch’s curse!" "To freedom!" we echoed, voices ringing out in cheer.

Hearts light and spirits high, we went in our tents to sleep. But as I closed my eyes, letting that warmth seep through me, I could still hear the whispers in the wind, the echoes of laughter that seem to weave through the forest like a dark melody. Tomorrow will be different, I reassured myself. Tomorrow we will emerge to Riverwood victorious.

The sun climbed slowly through the sky as we set off for home. We walked in loose formation, laughter spilling from our lips. “We did it, didn’t we?” I heard Zara say, voice laced with disbelief and exhilaration. "Of course we did! No more shadows! No more curses!" Alric shouted, punctuating the declaration with a triumphant punch to the air.

However, the farther we journeyed, the more I noticed the subtle shift in the atmosphere. The laughter began to fade, replaced by an inexplicable tension that ebbed at the edges of my mind.
We had been walking for hours, and yet, as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the trail suddenly shifted. With a jolt, a wave of unease washed over me as we rounded a bend, my heart sinking as the clearing came into view. There it stood, the witch's cabin - remarkably intact, looming against the dusk sky, its silhouette cast sharply as if mocking our earlier victory. Its windows seemingly glimmering with an internal light, inviting yet sinister.

"What happened?" Zala whispered, breaking the tense silence.
"This is the wrong path." Agnar said, eyes darting from the hut to the surrounding trees, their branches now appearing sinister in the fading light.
"No, we took the path back and never left it," Alric replied, though desperation crept into his voice, dispersing his confidence like smoke in the night.
"What if... what if we never left?" I murmured, a shiver creeping down my spine. The idea dug into my mind, intertwining with my thoughts. 
"But how is cabin intact?" Zara asked.

We stood there as darkness began to weave through the trees. Whispers from the woods became more intense and laughter echoed from every direction, leaving behind a chill that seeped into our bones.
"We must leave," Alric finally said, his voice shaking slightly, and I could sense the urgency in his tone.  But where would we go? The path had led us back here, and the witch’s hut.


Part 3

As we trekked back, an uneasy silence enveloped our group. The oppressive air thickened around us, the trees closing in like shadowy sentinels. "I can feel it," Alric murmured,"We're being watched. The witch has sent her spirits after us," glancing nervously over his shoulder.
"It’s just the woods, Alric!” Zara snapped, her voice tightly coiled. But as we pressed on, he began to stumble over his words, insisting he saw shapes flitting between the trees - a specter here, a shadow there. 

As we reached a thick thicket, Alric suddenly broke from the group. “I can’t! I can’t stay here! We have to go back!” he shouted, his voice trembling with terror. Before we could reason with him, he dashed into the trees, his form swallowed by the underbrush. “Alric!” Zara called after him, but the forest seemed to consume his screams, leaving only silence in his wake. "He’s lost,” Agnar said, a chill creeping into his tone. "We can't go back looking for him in the dark. We have to keep moving."

What came next was surreal as we walked blindly through the darkness. True madness struck as Agnar again turned on Zara, accusing her of being a witch in disguise, the darkness of suspicion bending his mind. "What are you talking about?" she spluttered, disbelief lacing her voice. "I’m not a witch! I helped burn that hut down! We went through so much together over the years!" 

“Agnar, Enough!” I shouted. But before I could intervene, Agnar reached for the dagger at his belt, his hand trembling with rage and fear. "I won’t let you control us anymore! You’re a monster in our midst!"
Agnar, blinded by his accusations, lunged at her, aiming the dagger straight at her heart. She screamed horribly before she fell to the ground dead.

I cradled her in my arms and cried while cursing my brother. "What did you do?" I cried out in disbelief. Agnar stepped back, panting, his face pale in the half-light. "She… she was going to curse us," he muttered, half to himself, as he tried to justify the horror he had just committed. He took a step closer, his expression darkening. "Better her than us! We can’t afford to be soft in the face of real danger," he spat, his voice low but seething with fury. I could see the darkness creeping into his eyes, twisting his thoughts.

Before I could process the nightmare, Agnar shouted at me, "You think I can’t see it? You’ve influenced us, Iona! Lured us into that hut! You led us to the very source of our doom! You’re witch!" his voice echoing through the forest. "Agnar, please! I would never do that! You know me! I’m your sister!" I pleaded.

But Agnar’s fury had taken hold, his face twisted with an unmistakable rage. "You think you can play innocent? You’ve always been different! Always hiding secrets! I knew I couldn’t trust you!" He yelled while he grabbed his axe. My sword was on the ground, just out of reach. The adrenaline coursed through me as I felt the rush of wind from his swing brush against me. In a panic, I turned to run, darting into the shadows of the forest, desperately searching for any glimmer of safety. Agnar’s furious shouts echoed behind me.

For hours I ran. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow that danced through the dense canopy of the forest. My heart raced as I stumbled over twisted roots and underbrush. Whispers loud all around me. Each breath was a sharp reminder of the fear that clawed my mind - the vision of my brother Agnar, his face twisted with rage and betrayal. As I broke through a thicket, the forest opened into a small clearing, moonlight spilling across the snow in the ground.
 
In the center of the clearing stood a figure, seemingly untouched by the chaos that had enveloped me.
Elara - the priestess who had vanished at the beginning of this dark saga - stood completely naked, her long hair cascading around her like a veil. Her skin glistened under the moonlight, almost ethereal in its beauty, yet her expression was hauntingly vacant. She gazed into the distance, her eyes unfocused as if she were staring at something only she could see.

“Elara!” I called, "Elara, it’s me! Do you hear me?" But the priestess remained unmoved, her expression indifferent to my presence. It was as if the world around her had faded away. I felt a chill run down my spine; the air was thick with an unnameable tension, something that felt unnatural, almost reverent in its silence. "Please, Elara!" I cried in desperation while trying to shake her from her trance. Elara’s silence felt like a mirror reflecting my fears - the fear of being abandoned, of losing the connections that had once grounded me. With a heavy heart, I stepped back, leaving the priestess to her empty reverie, my mind swirling in a chaotic blend of fear and resolve.

When dawn broke, I still ran, the sounds of the forest overtaking me. The trees thrashed like spirits in fury, and shadows leapt from branch to branch. I followed no path, borne only by instinct and sheer terror, convinced the witch would reach out and claim me too. By sheer luck - or perhaps the mercy of the Divines - I stumbled upon the edge of the forest, collapsing at the foot of a hill overlooking the valley below. I breathed in the fresh air, freedom coursing through my veins as the horror of the last few days crashed over me. I was a fool, stumbling into the unknown in search of a monster, only to become one of its victims. 

Now the only survivor, I am tormented by the faces of my fallen friends and my brother, who is maybe somehow still alive. My dreams are filled with the echo of Zara’s scream, the madness in Agnar’s eyes, Alric’s unwavering resolve turned to despair and Elara's horrifying empty gaze. I hear the whispers still, creeping into the corners of my mind, reminding me that I escaped by mere chance, while the woods are still haunted by the witch.

I write this now not as a reverent witchhunter, but as a frightened survivor.
Witches are more than they appear, and the forests of Skyrim hold more secrets than anyone can fathom. I will tell this story in hopes that others will heed our warning: some evils cannot be vanquished. A darkness has taken root in the hearts of those who pursue it, and it is the fearful whispers that echo eternally in the night.

I hope this book finds its way into the hands of a wise soul who will remember us.
May the Divines have mercy upon us all.

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