The stolen woodland Ethan Campbell The stolen woodland “Feels like the world’s ending out there.” Ethan Campbell An Ovi eBooks Publication 2024 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book The stolen woodland The stolen woodland Ethan Campbell Ethan Campbell An Ovi eBooks Publication 2024 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The stolen woodland T he storm began with an unnatural silence. No wind stirred the lake’s surface; no crick- ets chirped in the forest. Then came the first crack of thunder, sharp as a whip and the heavens tore apart. Sheets of rain hammered the small lake town, drenching its narrow streets and shuttered homes. Lightning flickered across the sky, illuminating the dense woods bordering the town, casting fleeting, monstrous shadows. The forest seemed to writhe, as though something unnatural was waking within. At the edge of town, the Harris family huddled in their small kitchen, the windows rattling with each gust of wind. Ethan Campbell “Feels like the world’s ending out there,” muttered Tom Harris, tightening his grip on his coffee mug. His wife, Carol, didn’t reply, her eyes fixed on the window. She swore she’d seen movement in the for- est, something too large to be a deer, too fast to be human. “Mom, Dad, look!” ten-year-old Danny called from the living room, his voice high with a mix of excite- ment and fear. “There’s something in the backyard!” Tom shot up, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He exchanged a wary glance with Carol before they both moved to the living room window, where Danny pressed his face to the glass. At first, Tom saw nothing but rain slashing through the darkness. Then a flash of lightning revealed them: three figures stumbling out of the woods. “What in the...?” Tom whispered. The tallest of the three, a figure that resembled a centaur, staggered into the backyard. Its lower half was unmistakably horse-like, but its torso and head gleamed unnaturally in the lightning, its eyes glow- ing faintly. A smaller, hunched creature waddled be- hind it, its skin greenish and slick with rain, while a The stolen woodland wraith-like form hovered in the shadows, its edges blurring into the night. “Tom,” Carol whispered, gripping his arm. “Those aren’t...” “People. Yeah, I can see that,” Tom finished, his voice tight. Suddenly, the centaur collapsed onto the muddy grass, its legs folding awkwardly beneath it. The troll- like creature scurried to its side, letting out a series of guttural cries. The wraith hesitated, its form flicker- ing as though barely holding together. “What are they running from?” Danny asked, his voice trembling. Tom didn’t answer. He reached for the rifle above the fireplace and motioned for Carol to take Danny upstairs. “No way,” Carol said firmly. “If they wanted to hurt us, they’d have done it already. Look at them, Tom. They’re terrified.” Tom hesitated, then cursed under his breath. He opened the back door a crack, rain immediately pelt- ing his face. “Hey!” he called out, his voice barely au- dible over the storm. “What do you want?” Ethan Campbell The troll-like creature turned toward him, its wide, yellow eyes filled with desperation. “Shelter... please...” it croaked in broken English. Tom’s grip on the rifle tightened. “What are you?” “Not... enemy,” the centaur rasped, struggling to lift its head. “Danger... coming. Evil... everywhere.” The wraith drifted closer, its form solidifying just enough to reveal a vaguely humanoid shape. Its voice was a whisper carried by the wind. “We... fled. It will... come for you, too.” “What’s coming?” Carol demanded from the door- way, holding Danny protectively behind her. The wraith didn’t answer. Instead, it pointed back toward the forest, where another flash of lightning il- luminated the trees. For a moment, the Harris family saw what the creatures had fled from. Massive shapes moved among the trees, hulk- ing, misshapen things with glowing red eyes. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, as if controlled by invisible strings. One of them let out a guttural roar that rattled the windows. “Oh my God,” Carol breathed. The stolen woodland “Inside, now!” Tom barked, waving the creatures toward the house. The centaur stumbled to its feet, the troll helping to steady it, while the wraith float- ed in after them, its form dimming to avoid scaring Danny. As soon as they were inside, Tom bolted the door and drew the curtains. “Start talking,” he demand- ed, pointing the rifle at the centaur. “What are those things out there?” The centaur leaned heavily against the wall, its breathing labored. “The forest... cursed,” it said. “An ancient evil... awakened.” The troll nodded, its voice high and frantic. “It twists... everything. Corrupts. Destroys.” The wraith hovered near the window, peering through the curtains. “We ran. Many did not.” Carol knelt beside the centaur, her fear giving way to concern. “You’re hurt,” she said, examining a deep gash on its flank. “What did this to you?” The centaur winced as it spoke. “The Shadow King. He... feeds on fear. On life. He will not stop until... all is his.” Ethan Campbell Tom lowered the rifle slightly, his face pale. “And you’re saying he’s coming here?” The wraith turned to him, its glowing eyes piercing through the dim light. “He... already... is.” At that moment, a deafening crash shook the house. Something large had slammed against the back door. Danny screamed, and Carol pulled him close as Tom raised the rifle again. Through the window, they saw the twisted silhou- ette of a monstrous wolf, its skeletal face pressed against the glass, its glowing red eyes staring hun- grily inside. Behind it, more shadows gathered, their guttural growls reverberating through the storm. The centaur struggled to stand. “We... must fight. Or... all will fall.” Tom clenched his jaw, his hands trembling on the rifle. “Fight? Against that?” “Dad...” Danny’s voice was small, but steady. “If we don’t, they’ll destroy everything.” Carol placed a hand on Tom’s arm. “We can’t let them take the town.” The stolen woodland For a long moment, Tom stared at the creatures, then at his family. Finally, he nodded. “Alright,” he said, his voice grim. “We fight.” The troll grinned, baring its sharp teeth. “Good. We... fight together.” The house shook again as the monstrous wolf howled, its pack joining in a symphony of terror. The creatures and humans exchanged a determined glance, the flickering light of the storm casting their shadows against the wall, a strange and unlikely alli- ance forged on the edge of darkness. Ethan Campbell I. The town hall was crammed to capacity, its wooden beams groaning under the weight of both the people and their anxieties. Rain lashed against the windows, a relentless reminder of the strange storm that had ravaged the night. At the front of the room, Sheriff Lucas banged his gavel against the podium, trying in vain to restore order. “Quiet down, folks! Quiet down!” But his demands were drowned out by the clamor of voices. “Did you see the thing by old Miller’s barn? Had horns like the devil himself!” “Why are we even talking to them? They’re mon- sters!” The stolen woodland “What if they’re here to lure us into some kind of trap?” In the middle of the chaos, Margaret Lively, the town’s oldest resident and self-proclaimed keeper of local lore, stood with arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the room. “Enough!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the noise like a whip. “Sit down and listen!” The townsfolk reluctantly obeyed, grumbling as they found their seats. At the back of the room, Emma, the town’s young mechanic, leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. Beside her, Ben, the forest ranger, adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, his face unreadable. “They’re scared,” Emma murmured to him. “They should be,” Ben replied grimly. At the center of the room stood the creatures them- selves, a motley group of beings that seemed plucked straight from the pages of a fairy tale or a nightmare. Kael, the centaur, stood with a quiet dignity despite the gash across his flank. Beside him, the troll, Murg, towered over everyone, his rocky skin glistening with moisture. The wraith hovered silently, its translucent form flickering like a candle in the wind. Ethan Campbell “They look like they’ve been through hell,” Emma said under her breath. “Maybe they brought hell with them,” Ben replied. Sheriff Lucas stepped forward, eyeing the creatures warily. “Alright, you’ve got the floor. Start talking.” Kael stepped forward, his hooves clopping against the wooden floorboards. His voice was deep and res- onant, with an accent that made the English words sound foreign. “We come not to harm, but to plead for aid.” “Plead for aid?” Lucas repeated, his tone skeptical. “Yes,” Kael said. “Our home, the forest ...has been overrun by a great darkness. It corrupts everything it touches, twisting life into abominations. Many of our kind have already fallen to its power.” Murg growled low in agreement, his deep-set eyes glimmering with pain. “It eats. Everything. Land. Life. Soul.” The wraith drifted forward, its voice a chilling whisper. “If it is not stopped, your town will be next.” A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. The stolen woodland “Why should we believe you?” called out Roger, the town butcher. “For all we know, you’re the ones who brought this darkness with you!” Murmurs of agreement followed, growing louder by the second. Margaret stepped forward, raising her hand for si- lence. “I’ve seen these creatures before,” she said, her voice firm. “Not in the flesh, mind you, but in the old stories my grandmother used to tell. The centaur, the troll, the wraith—they’re part of our lore. Guardians of the forest, protectors of balance.” “Stories,” Roger scoffed. “Fairy tales.” “Sometimes there’s truth in tales,” Margaret shot back. Kael lowered his head in gratitude. “Thank you, el- der.” Sheriff Lucas raised a hand. “Even if Margaret’s right, it doesn’t mean we should just throw our- selves into their fight. This ‘darkness’ they’re talking about—what is it? And why is it our problem?” “The Shadow King,” Kael said, his voice heavy with dread. “An ancient being of pure malice. He was Ethan Campbell sealed away centuries ago by magic long forgotten. But something—someone—has freed him.” The wraith flickered, its form trembling. “He grows stronger with each passing day. Soon, even this place will not be safe.” “Why us?” Emma’s voice rang out, clear and defi- ant. She stepped forward, fixing Kael with a steady gaze. “Why come to us? What makes you think we can help?” Kael met her eyes. “Because you are strong. And because you have no choice. If the Shadow King is not stopped, he will consume everything.” A tense silence fell over the room. “Emma’s right,” Ben said, his voice low but firm. “We don’t know anything about fighting magical darkness or whatever this is. We’re just regular peo- ple trying to get by.” “Regular people,” Margaret said sharply, “who are standing on land those creatures have protected for generations. Don’t think for a second that the forest ends where the trees stop. If this Shadow King takes over, our town will be nothing but ash.” The stolen woodland “And how do you propose we fight something like that?” Lucas demanded. “Together,” Kael said. “Your strength and our knowledge.” “You’re asking us to risk everything,” Lucas said, his voice tinged with anger. “For creatures we don’t know, for a forest that’s not ours.” “Sheriff,” Emma said, her tone cutting through the tension, “if this thing is as bad as they say, it’s going to come for us whether we help or not. Do you want to wait until it’s too late to fight back?” “She’s got a point,” Ben admitted, his jaw tighten- ing. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, a mix of fear, doubt, and reluctant agreement. Margaret stepped forward, her cane thudding against the floor. “This town has faced its share of hardships. We’ve rebuilt after fires, storms, and floods. We’ve survived because we stood together. This is no different. It’s time to decide: will we fight, or will we fall?” The room fell silent as her words sank in. Ethan Campbell Kael stepped forward, bowing his head. “We ask for your trust. In return, we will fight beside you un- til the end.” Emma turned to face the crowd, her voice steady and resolute. “I’m in.” Ben sighed, adjusting his hat. “Me too.” One by one, others began to step forward, their faces set with determination. Sheriff Lucas let out a long breath, gripping his shotgun tightly. “Alright,” he said. “But if this goes south, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The creatures exchanged glances, a flicker of hope passing between them. “Then we begin at dawn,” Kael said. Outside, the wind howled, carrying with it a faint, malevolent whisper. The Shadow King was watching. The stolen woodland II. The morning arrived cloaked in gray mist, the sun a faint suggestion beyond the clouds. The group gathered at the edge of the forest, its once-familiar outline now warped into something foreign and menacing. The towering trees seemed to lean toward them, their branches gnarled and claw-like. Sheriff Lucas adjusted the strap of his shotgun and glanced over his shoulder at the team. “Last chance to back out,” he said, his voice gruff. “No one’s backing out, Lucas,” Emma replied, tight- ening her grip on her flashlight. Her tool belt jangled softly, a mix of wrenches and improvised weapons. Ben, the forest ranger, patted the sheath of his hunting knife. “We’re wasting daylight. Let’s move.” Ethan Campbell Kael, the centaur, stepped forward, his hooves sinking slightly into the damp earth. “The forest is not what it once was. Stay close, and trust your in- stincts. If you feel something is wrong, it probably is.” Murg the troll let out a low growl, his rocky shoul- ders rolling like tectonic plates. “Stay quiet. Darkness likes noise.” The wraith hovered silently behind them, its trans- lucent form flickering faintly. Though it hadn’t spo- ken since their meeting in the town hall, its presence was both reassuring and unnerving. The group ventured into the forest, the air grow- ing heavier with each step. The vibrant greens and browns they remembered were gone, replaced by ashen bark and dead leaves that crumbled underfoot like brittle paper. An unnatural stillness surrounded them, broken only by the occasional distant rustle. “Smells wrong,” Ben muttered, wrinkling his nose. “It’s the rot,” Kael explained. “The Shadow King’s corruption spreads through the roots, poisoning the earth itself.” Emma stopped to examine a patch of ground where the grass had turned black and brittle. “Can it be reversed?”