Sweat built up on Autumn’s aching back as she ran. Her lungs burned as she heaved in desperate lungfuls of chill air. Her legs cramped and throbbed as she clambered over towering roots and rotten logs. Neither burrow nor nest would hide her from the Wild Hunt, so her only option was to run. Run and hope she could outrun her hunters.
She didn’t know where she was going, only that it was away. It was a mad, mad world that she had fallen into, and there was no succor or sanity to be found. She had no white rabbit to lead her to safety. No tea party to attend. Well, she’d fled the only party around and she wasn’t keen to return.
Acrid pain filled her as she fell into a rhythm. Foot after foot. Step after step. The practice track called her, urging the burn of her limbs to lull her into a runner’s high. She was all alone. Alone in a world of herself and her feet. All that mattered was for her to keep moving.
The pain became a background noise. Every strangled breath she took was another she did so free. She filled her lungs with the air of an unknown world.
She ran and ran and ran.
Autumn ignored the lakes nestled between the sprawling roots that were filled with glowing, hungry eyes. She ignored the gigantic spiderwebs stretched between the titanic trees. She ignored the strange creatures pretending to be branches and small trees as she passed beneath their lumbering swings and blows.
She ignored the surprised ents, panicking boggles, startled sprites, and cowering dryads and just kept running.
The only music she heard in her flight was the steady, rapid beat of her heart and the heave of her lungs. How long had it been since her life was truly bereft of music and melody? Only now, in its absence, did Autumn realize just how oppressively loud silence was. It sang the dearth of culture.
Her moody introspection was broken by the baying of hounds sounding behind her. The Wild Hunt comes! It was impossibly close, echoing off the trees surrounding her, sounding as if the dogs were already nipping at her heels.
Both her pace and heartbeat quickened at the grim sound.
Autumn’s wide eyes whipped from side to side as she ran with hurried desperation, searching for any gaps or tunnels in the maze of roots to lose her pursuers within. Monstrous shapes loomed in the gloom, towering over her. In her haste, she couldn’t determine if they were real or simply products of her terrified mind.
Was that cluster of branches a house-sized spider gazing upon her hungerily or just a normal twisted group of brambles?
Was that a train-sized python lying in wait for prey larger than she, or just another massive root?
Her mind flinched away from each phantom all the same as she struggled through the shadowed twilight forest. Who knew what was possible in this haunted, fairytale place? She’d been curled up in her bed only moments ago, after all, and now she was here. Or had it been years since she’d seen her home?
This place wasn’t real, her mind insisted. Just a tale told to frighten naughty children. Yet, if it wasn’t real, then why were the thorns tearing at her skin? Why were fey hounds chasing her with baying calls? Why didn’t her mind believe she was safe?
She ran.
Autumn came to a skidding halt. A fallen tree blocked her way. The gigantic obstacle was the same impossible size as those around it, and would take days to scale or weeks to travel around. Time she didn’t have. Flipping a coin in her mind, she went left, racing along the titan’s form to seek a way over or under its bulk.
Right might’ve led to her safety. Or it could’ve spelled her doom. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay put with the hunt coming.
The path alongside the felled oak was mostly clear of any massive roots or other trees, as the titan had crushed them flat upon its mighty descent. What a cacophony it must’ve made when it fell!
Autumn picked her way through bushes and over branches, stumbling through the dark as the moonlight waxed and waned. Looking up, she saw clouds lingering around the grim moon. They looked unnatural in design, if anything could be called natural in this strange realm. Likely, some fey lord was spinning the cloud cover to rob her of its guidance.
The forest dimmed to an almost black, lit only by strange lantern fruits and buzzing fireflies. A somber gloom descended on the Feywild woods. Even the usual fauna that’d been croaking, cawing, bellowing, and roaring fell silent as the thunder of hooves rocked the ground.
Trumpeting warhorns heralded the Wild Hunt’s approach.
Suddenly, the forest exploded into a riot of sound as both predators and prey alike fled the oncoming host. Beasts tore through the underbrush while millions of birds took to the sky in a deafening discordance. Stones clattered and shook across the quaking earth.
Autumn fled. Her bloody feet slapped painfully across the dirt, leaving a crimson trail behind her as she stumbled over sharp twigs and rocks. She rushed further in the direction that the native fauna fled, which thankfully took her further along the fallen tree.
Ahead of her lay a miraculous sight. The grand tree had fallen long ago atop a large root of another titan, and while it practically pulverised the root flat like all the rest it’d crashed upon, a small tunnel had formed at their joining, just large enough for someone her size to squeeze through. Likely, the land dwelling beasts of the area used it as a thoroughfare to get to the other side of the massive blockage rather than tire themselves out climbing over it.
A journey Autumn herself wished to make.
Hopefully, the massive warhost would be delayed having to find a way around, buying her more time to run and seek out safety somewhere, anywhere else.
Autumn slid to a stop at the dark tunnel’s entrance and scrambled into it. It was cold and dark, and smelled of rot and decaying wood. The inside was pitch black without a light in sight.
It couldn’t be understated just how large the trees in this wood were. An entire city block could fit inside a single one. And now she was crawling beneath one like a subterranean explorer. And like a cavern beneath the earth, this tunnel wasn’t uniform in its thickness. Sometimes Autumn could almost walk unhindered through long sections, other times she had to crawl on her belly like a worm for what seemed like miles, or squeeze through claustrophobic gaps that made her want to scream.
Yet she persevered. She persevered even as her pajamas tore, leaving her dressed in little more than dirty rags that did little to conceal her modesty. Even as the fey hounds hunting her reached the darksome portal she’d crawled into, baying furiously into the echoing dark.
The sound of them scrabbling inside spurred her to crawl faster. She pushed herself beyond her limits, beyond her flagging might to crawl arm over arm, hand over hand, over dirt and mud toward the end in the distance. Bugs bit her skin as she barged through their homes, sending fresh waves of pain through her body and hallucinations flickering into her blackened vision.
Autumn fell into her focused world once again, emptying her mind of everything but her intent to escape. Nothing could disturb her now. She couldn’t afford it.
The fey hounds inched closer, gaining on her.
An age-and-a-half must’ve passed before Autumn saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Both literal and metaphorical. A beam of silvery light pierced her private gloom. The raging moon had burned the cloud cover clean off itself and spitefully illuminated the tunnel’s exit for the fleeing mortal.
The heat of a hound’s breath stung the back of Autumn’s heels. It was practically upon her as she spilled out of the loamy tunnel. She scrambled free into the mud beyond as its snapping jaws barely missed her ankles.
The beast was caught in the tunnel, pawing at the dirt as it steadily freed itself.
Autumn cast about for something to defend herself with, and spied a large mossy stone resting innocently nearby. She dove toward it and quickly snatched it up, hefting its heavy weight to bring down upon the hound’s head with all her might backed by gravity. The stone struck the hound with a mighty crack, stilling it with a pained yelp.
With the first dog dead, it blocked the passage for those behind it. Autumn heard the angry barking, and decided to make tracks before those behind the dead dog decided to simply push it out or tear it apart to get to her. With a quickness, she turned and fled.
She still didn’t know where she was going.
After a dozen or so paces, her beleaguered top finally gave up the fight, and was torn from her chest by a grasping bush, leaving her running through the Feywild clad in only pajama bottoms and slim underpants. The chill in the air stung her raw skin. Squeezing through the narrow rotten tunnels had scrapped her body terribly, and the eternal night was doing little to nothing to alleviate her pain.
Still, despite the pain her aching body was in, crawling beneath the tunnel had been the right call. She’d put a considerable distance between herself and her hunters.
The earth no longer rumbled and shook, and the baying hounds sounded far behind her now, growing more and more distance the further she ran.
Her gamble had earned her some breathing room.
Keep running. Keep moving. Keep running. Keep moving. Autumn recited the mantra in her mind as she stumbled onwards atop her battered feet, pushing herself to keep going, running near naked through a gloaming forest far, far from home. She limped. She hopped and clambered. She crawled and climbed. Anything to put more distance between herself and the Wild Hunt.
Through the twisting woods, she ran without direction. A new sound caught her attention; the burble of rushing water. A river! It sounded like a distant memory. It was a balm on her weary soul. Turning sharply, almost spilling over, she changed her stumbling direction toward the source.
In her chest, the spark of hope flared. Where there was water, there might be a means for her to escape, even if that meant casting herself into the river’s pull to let it take her where fate would will her.
Autumn pushed herself through wild plants and strange clinging burs that hissed and growled at her intrusion until she caught sight of the river she sought.
Her hope died a bitter death. For what lay before her was no ordinary river that might see her to safety, but the river of the dead itself. The river Styx. Its blue waters wound through the Feywild as it pleased, full of grim souls screaming silently and clawing fitfully at the land. The dead pressed together so tightly in a desperate struggle toward the surface that Autumn couldn’t see any empty space on the surface.
Every race imaginable lay lost within the river of the dead. Just from a brief glance, Autumn saw humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin, demons, and many more she couldn’t name.
They were all united in death.
Each foul soul lost within its waters struggled and pulled each other down as they sought salvation from a fate they couldn’t escape. The river Styx was said to be a goddess in her own right. Only Charon could cross her unhindered. Those who couldn’t pay him his fee would wander its banks for a hundred years as a wraith.
Autumn stood dumbstruck upon the banks of the river of the dead.
Her living breath was a tantalizing lure for the drowned shades. They surged at the riverbank at her feet, full of desperate longing for her warmth or a furious rage at the remembrance of their plight. Their icy hands clawed at the dirt, buckling the ground beneath Autumn’s feet, and before she could scramble for safety, they pulled her body into the river.
Within moments, the young mortal girl slipped beneath the surface.
The warmth of her living body was quickly stolen away by the frigid waters as clammy hands clamped onto her shivering limbs and bore her deeper into its gloom. In the frigid depths, the dangerous waters dissolved the last of her threadbare clothing, leaving her nude as the searing cold invaded her spirit. Perhaps like Achilles before her, the kiss of the river Styx would leave her tempered beyond mortal limits. However, it was more likely that the only gift awaiting her was death.
A lonely girl sank.
Entombed by ghosts, Autumn couldn’t strive for the surface, ironically like all the other dead that’d been cast into this river. Unwanted touches groped her, harrowing her body as they sought to steal any semblance of life. Pale hands grasped her throat, her thighs and arms, her breasts and hips, her heart and lungs, even her eyes felt their icy touch. Ghostly hands slid through her flesh like wraiths to defile her innards.
Autumn thrashed in the waters, kicking and howling. She refused to let the waters claim her.
The blue waters churned at her thrashing, freeing her from the dead’s hold. She drifted along in the deep currents, eventually colliding with an ancient stone that’d rested in the river’s depths before the first god was born of a titan’s blood. Autumn's last breath bubbled up to the surface as she involuntarily gasped upon striking the stone.
In a moment of wild desperation, Autumn kicked off from the timeworn anchor, and swam for the river’s surface as her lungs urgently begged for air. Chill hands grasped desperately for her, but this time they were too slow.
Towards the surface, she fled, kicking for all she was worth.
Moaning ghosts parted before her blurry vision, wailing, begging, and raging for her to stop, for her to join them, or to save them. Their cries drowned out everything else, filling Autumn’s ears with a dire ringing. A blended cacophony of wordless agony.
Suddenly, Autumn broke the surface with a ragged gasp. She sucked in lungfuls of the sweetest air she’d ever tasted. It filled her lungs like honey.
However, her succor lasted only a fleeting moment.
Forlorn phantoms grasped her legs from below, and yanked her back down into the icy depths, swallowing her into the gloom. She kicked and punched, sending harmless blows sailing through ghostly forms as she fought against her drowning fate. At moments, she’d free herself and breach the river’s surface, taking a desperate breath of air, before she was yanked back down again.
Stirred from its slumber, a drowned dead rose from the slit. The undead looked up, drawn by the thrashing of the living soul above, and spied Autumn through its rotten senses. Her scent was irresistible to the river zombie. It swam towards her, casting the dead souls back as it sought to claim her alone.
Lashing out, it latched its bloated hand around Autumn’s ankle and pulled her down towards itself, seeking to drown her like it’d drowned. The sudden pain of its terrible grip broke through the frozen numbness plaguing Autumn, and she kicked out at the undead’s head.
Much to her surprise, the kick landed.
The undead burbled angrily and tightened its hold.
Autumn cried out in pain, almost filling her lungs with frigid water. Knowing now that she could harm, or at least strike, the creature trying to drown her unlike the ghosts of before, she kicked at the hand clasping her ankle with a desperate fury. Blow after blow landed. Some struck her own leg, bruising her, but more landed upon the undead. She kept it up until, finally, she freed herself.
Immediately, she swam for the surface, this time unbothered by the lurking dead.
The undead circled her from below, watching as she wavered in the cold water, waiting for the moment she’d falter in her vigilance so that it could drown her. And Autumn was flagging. The water was sapping her strength. She felt as warm as a block of ice bobbing in the arctic.
Glancing to the side, she saw the other shore far from herself. Even if she could make it, the undead below would hardly let her escape without resistance. But what other choice did she have?
Trying for the shore, Autumn found herself dipping below the surface as her kicks steadily became weaker and weaker. She snorted out a breath of water as her nose dipped. Her eyes felt as heavy as cinderblocks.
To the joy of the awaiting undead, she plunged under the water, unable to keep herself afloat any longer. It stretched out its rubbery hand and clasped it around her neck with a terrible, lipless grin. Down, she was dragged. Down to a watery grave.
However, before it could celebrate, a bony hand reached into the waters of the dead and poked the undead in its bloated eye. It stilled in an instant. Struck stone dead. The skeletal hand then reached out to Autumn and hauled her from the water and dumped her drenched body into a rickety boat.
Ancient wood cushioned her fall. From where she flopped, gasping like a caught fish, Autumn spied souls glaring up at her through parted planks. Shivering, she spat out a mouthful of water into the well of the boat, and looked up at her savor.
She froze as she stared up at a robed skeleton staring curiously down at her.
He went by many names, that lonesome caretaker of the dead. Charon, the Ferryman, the Grim Reaper, the Fourth Horseman, he’d even gone by female monikers at some point like Santa Muerte and the Mórrígan, but most knew the grandfather of all simply as…Death.
“Hello,”
he said.