//------------------------------//
// The Hunted 
// Story: Up Through the Roots 
// by RangerOfRhudaur 
//------------------------------//

The shrill music gored her as she entered the void, though the piper was still unseen. She looked around, the hairs on the back of her neck springing up in terror as she beheld the darkness.

And then she saw It.

There were no words to describe It; It was unspeakable, ineffable, beyond the realm of speech. It was the most beautiful and most horrifying thing she had ever seen, looking at it like looking into the Sun. Her eyes watered and her muscles screamed for her to turn away, but her brain was too stunned to give the command; all she could do was gape at the magnificent enormity before her, a praise to creation and a blasphemy against the same.

And It perceived her, too, perceived the puny mortal who had dared to wander into It's realm, who had fallen so easily into It's trap. It perceived her, and not just her appearance; It ripped that away, perceiving her thoughts, feelings, memories as effortlessly as she perceived the leaves of her garden. There was nothing she could do to stop It, all she could do was obey; fall down, roll over, and let It take what it wanted from her.

But then the tattoos Stumper had painted on her flared to life, flooding the abyss with green. It hissed in anger, covering its eyes, and its hold over Wallflower was broken, as well as the spell of darkness.

She gasped at what she saw; ranks upon ranks of crosslegged pipers, playing their dark flutes in an attempt to lure creatures like her to their doom, to an eternity imprisoned in the abyss with them. Filth-covered spirits and flaming demons clawed at the walls of their prison, futilely trying to force their way out. And It itself loomed at the center of it all, the bottom of a deep pit of misery and evil.

Wallflower needed no further prompting, and bolted away from that dreadful pit, that abyss of despair and malice. It stretched out its hand after her, trying to grab her, pull her back, trap her with it and flay her secrets from her soul.

Unfortunately for it, Wallflower's injuries had done nothing to her speed, and she escaped the darkness, It's hand snapping shut frustratedly behind her.

***

She gasped awake in a burning sweat, startling Stumper.

"I don't understand," she murmured. "Everfree's favour should have opened your eyes, let you see through the eyes of the forest, not-"

Wallflower waved her arms to cut her off, then scrambled over to the pool. Dipping her finger in the water, she used it to trace a message on the wall, not wanting to waste time trying to make herself understood through hand-speech. When she finished, Stumper's jaw dropped;

I SAW THE ENEMY

"Which," Stumper haltingly asked. "enemy, doe?"

Wallflower underscored "the" with ferocity.

"Planter have mercy," she whispered. "Did they hurt you?"

She frantically shook her head, pointed at her paint, then made a crossing motion with her arms while sternly turning her head from side to side.

"Everfree managed to protect you," Stumper sighed in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. If you had been lost...it bears not thinking about. Are you okay?"

Wallflower shook herself a bit, then waved her hand in a so-so manner; she was shaken, but nothing more.

"Excellent," Stumper smiled. "If you want, we can take a-"

She frantically shook her head; she couldn't rest, not after the scare she'd just received. More importantly, she couldn't let herself rest now; she'd seen the true enemy, and she would not allow anyone else to. Nobody deserved to witness the horrors she'd seen, and she would not let anyone else fall into that evil pit if she could help it.

"You want to keep going?" Stumper asked, before shrugging. "If that is what you wish, I shall not deny you. For now, let's focus on control..."

Wallflower's ear pricked; she heard something, something other than Stumper's voice.

Piping.

The shrill music that had almost led her to her doom.

She grit her teeth and forced it out of her mind; no one else would fall victim to those pipes. She would find a way to silence them, like those black-cloaked strangers had wanted to silence wherever the third vision had taken place.

Speaking of whom, who were they? Were they connected with the people from the first vision? What were hobgoblins, Trogs, and deep-lairds? Too many questions, no answers, and limited ways to ask them in the first place.

She silently sighed; she really did have a lot to learn.