Days pass. For a long time, our minds are robbed from us, and the world with it. We no longer know where we walk, with whom, or toward what end. We know only the shadows of the Wood, and horrors that haunt them.

Then… there is light. A thin, white light, blinking through leaves. At first we shudder to see it, thinking it another phantom. But when at last we stumble from the forest’s edge, it is into the glow of a warm, golden dawn. Sunlight dapples the landscape before us: a road, swelling with promise. We can scarcely believe our luck. We have walked the Wood and lived to tell the tale.

But even as we celebrate our good fortune, we notice that we are missing one of our number. One traveller no longer walks among us. As the stories warned, the Wood has claimed its due. We do not linger to grieve. Wordlessly, we set our boots to the road before us. It is best to let the dead remain so. And yet…

As we walk from the Wood, we cannot help but glance back. There, from the trees’ shadow, a pale figure watches us. For a moment, its features seem sharp — familiar, somehow. Then the sun crests the horizon, and the phantom is gone.

We walk on.