The Sanctum of Stillness - Part 1

                Albert hissed, dropping the oar as he felt his bones ache in pain.  He had lost track of how long he had been in the River Phlegethon for – days, weeks, months? – time seemed to blend together under the blood red skies of the Everafter. A hand, flesh burned red, lunged at him from the river, blindly flailing about in an attempt to grab him. Albert quickly grabbed his oar and swatted the hand, wincing at the sickening crunch sound the bones made as the hand retreated. His muscles ached and his eyelids felt like steel, but he couldn’t rest – even a small lapse in focus would mean being dragged into the boiling blood below, never to resurface. He couldn’t afford to waver now, not when he was so close to his destination. Legend has it that the gate to the Tomb of Sloth would open only to travelers who towed the border of life and dream – and he was nearly there.

                As if on cue, Albert saw a lush island emerge through the red mist. He let out a sight of relief at the sight of dry land. He knew it was foolish – each layer of Everafter was grander and deadlier than the last, and he had no doubt that whatever was awaiting him would follow suit. But after the stiflingly hot air and the endless screams of the Caldera of Wrath, any change in scenery was welcome. 

                After some rowing, Albert had reached the shore of the island. He hadn’t noticed it before, on account of the blood red light of Phlegethon, but the island seemed to be devoid of any color or texture. Everything from the sand on the shore to the leaves of the trees were painted in the same monotone shade of grey. His discomfort only deepened when he stepped foot on the island. He tried to take a step, only to trip over his own feet and plunk onto the sand below.  He remembered hating the texture of sand back on Earth, the way it rubbed against his skin – but the complete lack of sensation he felt right now was so much more unsettling. It felt like he was falling infinitely, not moving yet not staying still either. A small insidious part of him was tempted to stay there, letting the waves consume him… before snapping out of it. He grabbed his oar, using it as a makeshift cane to guide him off of the shore. Lying before him was a vast, intimidating forest - the trees seemed less like individual organisms and more like a collective. Their branches and roots were tightly intertwined, forming a canopy too dense for any light to breach through.

                He opened his backpack, searching for anything which could help him navigate the dark woods. The circles of Everafter were not bound by the laws of reality – so if he got lost, he could be stuck wandering the forest forever. Eventually, he pulled out a glowstick and a thread of red spool he had salvaged from the upper layers. He doubted he had enough supplies to last him more than a few hours – but he didn’t have room to go back for supplies. He would reach the end of this place or die trying. He cracked open the glowstick, the neon blue light standing out sharply against the grey backdrop, and unfurled the thread, hoping to create a trail so he wouldn’t get lost.

                As soon as he entered the forest, he was greeted by the sound of silence. The chirps of cicadas, the crunch of twigs, the rustle of leaves – all the sounds of the forest he’d grown accustomed to were absent. The air was unsettlingly dead, as well. Not a single scent wafted through the stale air. It felt less like a forest and more like… a graveyard. The stillness sent a jolt of unease down Albert’s spine.

He wandered for quite some time, his frustration building and building. He kept thinking that if he took just one more step he’d be able to leave – but the forest just continued looping, on and on. Eventually he began to hear a murmur in the back of his ear. At first, he brushed it off as nothing but a product of his own mind – his brain filling in the gaps for him – but the murmurs didn’t stop. In fact, more and more voices began to speak up from every direction, like some kind of twisted choir.

                “Stop taunting me already. I know you’re there, so drop the act.”

                Then, a figure darted across his peripheral vision, teeth bared in a wide grin.

                “Come on, don’t be such a sore loser, ȧ̵̛͔̼͖͈̻͈̘͓̱̜̼̅̂͆̽̄͛́̄̄̿̀͒̈̍̚͜ļ̴̨̡̢̱͓͔͚̝̙̻̮͙̬̦̝̪̙̲̞̙̭̍̀̇b̶̢̡̨̢͈̹̭̠̳̪̮̥͚̣͙͍͈̲͙̜̯͚̝̘̮̯̰̩̹̺̊̌̒̔̏̚͠ę̴̨͕̹̖͉̩̗̱̞͉͍̟̙̺͍̦̪̞͌̈́̌͒̀͑͝ͅȓ̵̢̡̡͓̗͉̬̤̞͙̜̤̖̖̲̞̜̰̼̬̠̽́͂͋̂̊̈́̐́͌͋̀̈́̔̈́͊̈̏͋̐̈́̒̏̀̃̐͐́̚̕͜͝͝t̴̻͎͈̭̠̪̯̫͓̺͇̮͈̣͖͕̲͕̟̏̽̔̽̇̈̾̈͂̀̂̀̌͜͝͝” The figure giggled. “You know I always win at hide and seek!”

                Albert grunted, eyes darting in every direction in an attempt to pin down the figure – but no matter where he looked, the shadow was stuck in his peripheral vision.

                “Fineeeee, we can share. But only because you asked nicely! Next time, I’m totally -”

                “ENOUGH!” Albert screamed, voice raw. “Who are you trying to fool? Do you think I got this far without knowing this place inside and out? I don’t care who or what you show to me to try and earn my trust – because I know what you are, and I didn’t come this far to die to some bastard with a voice changer.”

                ”PLEASE, WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT US, Á̶̡̨̧̧̨̧̨̨̧̢̨̗̪̬̲͉̮̜̟̞̹̮̜̗̹͉̟͖͇̳͔͙̣̟̞̼̭̝̘̬̖͈̝̻͙̣̫̱̱͈̖̤̤͓͖̰͚̠̟̟͓̲̝̼̥̥̠̗͉͎̼͍͚̳̰̬̮̻̱̩̥̩̦̜͉̙̙̲̜͖͙̲̬̖̣͉͓͔̪͓̻͓͚̙̱͎̬͔̞̪̟̹̞͔̙̠̖͐̅̄̉̂̅̉́́͗̌̄̅̔̇̾̒̃̏͒̀̈̾̀́͗̾͆͘͘̕̕͘͜͜͝ͅͅL̴̛̛͎̣̈́̔̏̊́̅͋̏̌́̎͐̓͆̃͌̃͛̈̀̔͊̈́̊͛̿̈̂̽̽̈͂͐̈́͐̔͋̄́̈́̽͋̊́̾́̈́̀͗́̔̂͌̈̎̿̓͗̂̓̂̍̄̓͊̈̏̆̋͗̇̎̈́̂̀̐̓̍̈́̓̊̓̔̓͂̌̆̀̒͑͛̃̄̓͌͒̍̈̔̕̕͘̚͘͘̕̕͝͝͝͝͝͠B̵̢̨̛̛̛̛̛͇͔͕͚̠̪͙̩̩̣͉͎̖̗̱̰̰̟̳͔̝̱͔̗̗̞̦̙̭̺̰͍͎͇̘͙̱̞͓̭͚͖̤̣̋̏̎̒̈́̈̈́̎͑̽̽̈́̋̍͋͑̅̈̊̎͒̑̎̏̓͆̆͐̌̅̅͊̀̽̃͑̾́́̄̑̌̎̈́̎̒̄̎̊̃̏̎͌̓̈́͛̏̐̕̕̚̚̚̕͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝É̴̡̢̢̨̧̢̧̨̨̡̨̝͙̥͙̝̜̝̲̜̼̰̪̳̹͙̖̲̤̞̻̫͙̳̩̼̠͈̖̣͕̭̘̫͔̗̭̣̯̹̣͕̰̞̼̱̩̠̰͔̥̘̮̞̘̘̭̮͔̥͕̱̙̮̮͎̳̺̗̜̟̤̬͔̘̬̠̋̿̍͂͌̄̌́̌̍̔̀͗̐͒̈́̓̓̃̍̀͂̋̊͂̕͜͜͜͜͠ͅͅͅͅṞ̴̡̨̡̢̨̢̡̢̧̗̦̣̱̥͇̯̭͙͇͕͍͚̥͚̫̟̝͚̣̫̹͉͍̪̱̝̠̖̮͓̻̜̹͙͕͍͚̯̮̰͎̘̩̦̭͍͙͎̝̠̖̦̼̬͍̬̰̭̮̉̉̓͐͐̑́͆̊̀͒͐̀̾̂̔̏̈́͑̒͑͑̍̄͒̓̑̅̽̄̇͊̄̒̓̓̊̅̓͌̿̄̀̈͛̇͒̍͑̃̕̚͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅT̶̨̧̛̛͈̥̟͈̭͎̺̻̱̮̾̅͗͆̇̔̏͗͆̋̇̇̊̆̅͌͑̎̇̇̀̓̇͂̓͋̎͐̎̓̕͘͜͜ͅ?” The voices cried in unison. We’re sorry if we lied to you. We’re sorry for leaving you behind. ALL WE WANT IS FOR Y̵̡̤̦̗͚̞̞̌̽͗̋͠͝O̶̹͕̰̟͛͌̑̚̚͠U̸͂͜ ̷̲̫̺̻̤̈́̏͝T̶̰̫̜̕͜Õ̷̫͍̚ ̶͖̖͍̬̤̹͗̌̈B̵̭͎̄͘Ẹ̶̰͈͂̑͜ ̶̭͙̑̾͋H̸̼̓̑͗̈̊̃̚A̷̯̟̟̓P̵͓̹̊P̴̣̥̲̄Y̶͙̜̝͈͉͚̓̎̓̾̿”  

                Albert bit his lip so hard it bled, but not even the pain could distract him from the throbbing in his head. He grabbed his oar, flailing it around in every direction to try and hit an invisible target, but all he did was reduce the oar to splinters.

                “You look tired, ȧ̵̛͔̼͖͈̻͈̘͓̱̜̼̖̠̅̂͆̽̄͛́̄̄̿̀͒̈̍̚͜͜ļ̴̨̡̢̱͓͔͚̝̙̻̮͙̬̦̝̪̙̲̞̙̭̍̀̇b̶̢̡̨̢͈̹̭̠̳̪̮̥͚̣͙͍͈̲͙̜̯͚̝̘̮̯̰̩̹̺̊̌̒̔̏̚͠ę̴̨͕̹̖͉̩̗̱̞͉͍̟̙̺͍̦̪̞͌̈́̌͒̀͑͝ͅȓ̵̢̡̡͓̗͉̬̤̞͙̜̤̖̖̲̞̜̰̼̬̠̽́͂͋̂̊̈́̐́͌͋̀̈́̔̈́͊̈̏͋̐̈́̒̏̀̃̐͐́̚̕͜͝͝t̴̻͎͈̭̠̪̯̫͓̺͇̮͈̣͖͕̲͕̟̏̽̔̽̇̈̾̈͂̀̂̀̌͜͝͝. You’ve been hurting for a long, long time, haven’t you? Please, you don’t have to be strong anymore. Just take a rest, a̷̧̜͒̐͊n̵̛̪͖͒d̸̼͖̉ ̶̮̣̭̏̓y̶͙͉̱͑̉͝o̵̙͇͑̀u̷͕̖̾̔͘’̸͕͓̾̀̕͜l̶̨̛̬̮͋́ḻ̵̢̤͠ ̵̣̭́́n̴͚̣̳̈́̀e̶͚̙͂͠v̴̱̥̋è̷̡̼̚r̵̥͓̒ ̵̠͍̖͛h̵̩͆̈́͝a̷̰̞̺̎v̴̨̦̇̏̕e̸͎̫̻̽̀ ̴̛̖t̷̜͚̆͋ô̴̝̝ ̸̡̛̏͘s̵͙̣̰͊̇̇u̵̢̝͋̕f̶͚̒͗̄f̸̨͍͛͗̉ë̸̳r̷̞̮͘ ̷͎͓͌̀̉a̶̧͔̙͛ģ̵̜͒̍̃a̴̯̓î̷͇ņ̶̒̒͂.̸͎̼̻͛”

                The trees began to twist and bend in horrific, uncanny motions, branches and roots stretched out as if poised to embrace him. Hundreds of figures rotated around his vision like a twisted carousel. Their faces were contorted not of malice, but of pity, as if he was an injured stray cat. His eyes traced the red thread beneath him, but in the chaos it had been tangled and twisted into knots, leaving him with nowhere to run.

                Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his nerves. There was no use in panicking right now – not when panicking gotten him into this situation in the first place. If he was going to die anyways, he might as well die like a man. He looked through his bag again, grabbing a rusted Swiss army knife from the back pocket. It wasn’t much, but it’d at least let him stall for time. He took out the blade and started cutting at the branches, feeling a pang of satisfaction as the trees coiled back in on themselves – but also guilt. After some cutting, he eventually noticed a faint, sweet scent wafting through the air. Carefully weaving through the branches, Anton eventually discovered a trail of deep red poppies, which seemed to be his ticket out of the forest.  Heart pounding, he followed the trail, hurrying before his final glowstick ran out of light. As he followed the trail, the canopy began to clear up, and he felt his surroundings get brighter and brighter, before eventually…

                “I’m finally out of that place.”

                Feeling the warm light, Albert heaved a sigh of relief. He knew it wasn’t real sunlight -not even close – but after what felt like an eternity of darkness, he couldn’t bring himself to care. What had started as a small trail of poppies had exploded into an entire field, which stretched as far as the eye could see – yet despite how many of them there were, the scent remained faint. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, basking in the blissful silence, but eventually the gentle chime of a church bell snapped him from his stupor. He looked over at the horizon, noticing a steeple towering in the distance. Apprehensive, he trudged towards the church, eventually noticing a figure just outside the steps, gently cleaning the steps. They seemed to be no taller than him, but the was all he could make out, as a blood red veil covered the rest of their features. Then, they slowly turned in his direction, until he felt their gaze piercing him through the veil.

                “Albert. I have been waiting for your arrival for a… long time. I’m sure you are, so, so tired. But you don’t have to worry. Now, I would like to welcome you… to my Sanctum of Stillness.”