NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6: Shadow in the Forest
The forest had begun to feel like home, but its vastness still hid secrets we dared not fathom. Life had taken on a rhythm, and though we were wary of the unknown, the Avari found a measure of peace in Taur-im-Duinath. Until the day we lost Nárendil.
It began with a scream—a sharp, piercing cry that shattered the quiet of the evening. I was at the edge of the settlement, sharpening Raumo, when the sound tore through the air. My heart leapt, and without hesitation, I snatched the bow and ran toward the source, others close behind me.
We found Nárendil near a thicket, his body tangled in silken threads thicker than my fingers. The sight was horrifying—his face pale, his eyes wide with fear even in death. The threads clung to his skin like a predator's caress, glistening faintly in the moonlight.
"What could have done this?" Lárathir whispered, her voice trembling.
Before I could answer, a shadow moved in the trees. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but the sound it made—like the rustling of dry leaves—sent a chill down my spine. I nocked an arrow and drew Raumo, its thunderous hum echoing through the glade.
"Stay back," I commanded, scanning the darkness.
The shadow disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving only silence in its wake.
Fear swept through the settlement like a storm. The death of Nárendil shattered the fragile sense of safety we had built, and whispers of monsters in the dark grew with each passing hour. Families huddled together, their fires burning brighter and longer than ever before.
"We cannot stay here," Arahil said during a gathering of the elders. "Whatever killed Nárendil will come for us next."
"And where would we go?" I asked, my voice calm but firm. "This forest is vast. Do you think we will be safer wandering aimlessly through it?"
Silence followed, but the fear in their eyes remained.
"This is our home," I continued. "And if there is a threat here, we will face it—not run from it."
Lárathir stepped forward. "What do you propose?"
"We hunt it," I said. "Whatever killed Nárendil, whatever casts these shadows, we will find it—and we will end it."
The hunt began at dawn. I led a group of our strongest hunters, their resolve hardened by the weight of our task. We moved through the forest with Raumo at the ready, our senses attuned to every rustle, every flicker of movement.
The first day revealed little beyond the silken threads that clung to the trees and bushes, marking the paths of our enemy. But as we pressed deeper into the forest, the signs grew more frequent—and more disturbing.
Webs the size of a man stretched between the trees, their strands gleaming like steel in the faint light. The remains of animals—deer, boars, and smaller creatures—hung lifeless within them, drained of life. The forest itself seemed darker, its air thick with an oppressive weight.
By the third day, we encountered the spiders.
They came at us in the shadows, their forms grotesque and alien, their eyes gleaming like black glass. I counted at least a dozen, their legs moving with an eerie, unnatural grace.
"Hold your ground!" I shouted, drawing Raumo.
The first arrow struck true, and the sound of thunder rolled through the forest as the spider collapsed, its body twitching. The others hesitated for only a moment before surging forward.
The battle was fierce, but we fought with the desperation of those who had no choice. One by one, the spiders fell, their bodies crumpling into the underbrush. When the last was slain, we stood among the carnage, bloodied but alive.
"This is only the beginning," I said grimly, surveying the aftermath. "There are more."
For a week, we hunted them, moving deeper into the heart of the forest with each passing day. The spiders fought savagely, but Raumo's thunderous arrows and the unyielding determination of my hunters turned the tide.
On the seventh day, we reached their lair.
It was a vast clearing surrounded by trees so ancient they seemed to scrape the heavens. At its center was a mound of webs and debris, rising like a grotesque monument. And from it emerged the largest spider I had ever seen.
Her body was as black as night, her eyes glowing faintly like embers. She moved with a deliberate, terrifying grace, her legs clicking against the ground.
"I am Rhunare," she said, her voice a venomous whisper that seemed to seep into my very bones. "You dare trespass in my domain?"
Her words shocked me, for I had not expected such a creature to speak. But there was no time for hesitation.
"This is not your domain," I replied, drawing Raumo. "It belongs to the Avari."
She laughed—a low, hollow sound that echoed through the clearing. "You are fools to challenge me. I am daughter of the Void, born of Ungoliant, the Great Devourer."
I did not know this Ungoliant, nor did I care. Rhunare's very presence was an abomination, a threat to all we had fought to build.
The battle that followed was unlike any I had faced. Rhunare was faster and stronger than any of her offspring, her movements a blur of shadow and malice. But Raumo sang with each arrow, its thunder drowning out her shrieks.
At last, she faltered, her massive form collapsing under the weight of her wounds. I approached her cautiously, Raumo still drawn.
"You cannot kill the shadow," she hissed, her voice weaker now. "It will rise again."
"Then we will face it again," I said, releasing the final arrow.
The clearing fell silent as Rhunare's body slumped to the ground, lifeless.
We returned to the settlement weary but victorious. The Avari greeted us with relief and reverence, their fear replaced by a newfound strength.
"This place," I said, standing where Rhunare had fallen, "is where we make our stand. No more running, no more fear. This will be our home—and our stronghold."
The others nodded, their expressions resolute. Together, we began to build, using the clearing as the foundation for what would become our capital.
We named it Onymë Ennorë, the True Heart of the Land, a testament to the courage and sacrifice that had brought us here.
The forest was no longer a shadowed mystery—it was ours.