text: Drakaith stared at his brothers lifeless corpse. It had been seventeen days since he drank the Unicorn blood and since then so much had changed. He felt alive for the very first time, he could feel the wind on every tree leaf, the earth groan as it moves, the insects and animals voices clear and loud. If he wanted them to be. Everything was as he wanted. Silence could be created in a heartbeat. A heartbeat. He’d felt his brothers. It was the last movement he made. A shuddered breath, followed by a last weak, tiny beat. Drakaith turned away. There was no need to kill him. Drakaith had felt hungry. So hungry. But not for food. He couldn’t place it, until he stoped and listened. That heartbeat was like a drum calling to him. Making his hunger dance. But then so did all the animals of the forest. Their hearts were as strong as his. But there was something about his brothers. It was like a sweetcake when you could have oatmeal. The oatmeal would suffice, but the sweetcake... It was so tempting. He’d never liked his brother anyway he tried to pretend as he stalked away through the forest. A year younger he’d always looked up to Drakaith, always been mothers favourite. He had a lucky smile. It always brought good cheer. Drakaith knew his crooked teeth always made people uncomfortable. Even when he spoke it caused others to avert their eyes. A problem solved. Since drinking the blood, he barely opened his mouth. No need. His voice could be heard in their minds and seemingly life itself bent to his will. The Soothsayers story was true. The Unicorn blood really did hold power. Now it was his power. His gaze shifted back to the corpse. It had felt so good to feel his siblings pain and anguish as he realised his fate. Ecstasy. His soul breaking, emotions running wild. Pathetic, but delicious. As blood drained from his arteries, gushing on the floor beneath the broken branch that had been thrust into his neck, his soul seemed to float above the child. Then Drakaith devoured it. The first soul he had consumed. He wanted more. The forest was alive and he could feel it. Plenty of heartbeats. From mice to owls to... humans. Rain drops fell. He looked up at the branches of the trees above him. The Black Forest was known for its tall trees. Drakaith willed them to bunch together and form a canopy. And it was so. Sitting on a rock, he closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to cross into the sprit world. The colours changed all around him, but instead of the living, there were now the dead. Could he control them too? He saw an old man in the distance. He focused on him. Willed him to turn. And he did! A thrill went through him. “You must obey me. Walk towards me.” The man stared at him blankly. Drakaith growled again, “You must obey me. Walk towards me.” The man turned and walked away. Drakaith opened his eyes, sweat along his brow, his limbs heavy and aching. “The shadow world is no place to stay for long, especially for those of such small stature and strength.” Drakaith looked up, fifty paces away a giant stag stared at him. It slowly shook its head. “You killed my friend. The unicorn. The last of his line in this forest.” The words echoed in Drakaith’s head. The creature was communicating through thought. “His blood tasted heavenly.” Drakaith said grinning. The stag took a couple of steps forward. “Stay back.” The stag stopped and laughed. Drakaith’s mouth dropped open in surprise. A laughing stag? The stag cocked its head and glared at him. “You have stolen power, power that does not belong to you. You can talk to the plants, move trees, hide paths, make grass grow. But do not think you are the only one here with power.” Drakaith stepped across to a fallen tree. If the stag charged, he would be able to dodge to safety. “I will not harm you little one. You have done enough of that to yourself already.” Drakaith froze. “Yes, I am in your thoughts. All of them.” And with that, the stag turned and started to stride away. “I will find another unicorn and become even more powerful.” The stag stopped. Drakaith grinned at the poison of his own words. “Did you not hear me boy? You killed the last one. Its spirit was one with nature. This nature. This place. You are cursed to stay here, such is the price for ending a line.” The stag continued walking away. Drakaith watched and then, his voice trembling, called out; “what if I do leave?” But the stag was gone. Its powerful legs striding through the trees with ease and grace. Drakaith slumped down on a log. He couldn’t leave? What nonsense was this? He had ambitions, great and terrible ambitions. His new found power would wage war on all those around him, bringing him riches and unforetold wealth. He was only a few years from being a man and had yet to explore the lands beyond the forest borders. Once he almost went with Father to the Iron City, but sickness struck him down, a winter flu, causing him to stay home to recover. The Iron City is where he would go first. With no one to stop him. His eyes stared around at the forest. This was his. The stupid stag was wrong. Fearmongering, antlered creep, he thought. Seven hours later, he was close to the forest edge. Clothes drenched in sweat and his body weary, but he was there. Three days from here he would see the Iron City. Watch the sailors leaving at the dock, hear rowdy tales in the notorious ale houses, maybe even venture down to the night ladies walk. Just to see it. See who was there. He wasn’t thirsty, but hunger was taking hold. He sat on a log and closed his eyes, listening for a heart beat nearby. A young doe was closest. But he couldn’t. The stag may object and he needed no enemies now. Not yet. A squirrel? Yes. Much better. He concentrated his mind. Come to me little one, he thought. The squirrel stood up straight and marched toward him, coming into view behind a gnarled birch tree. Now how to kill him? Claw out his own heart? Could it do that? That would be impressive to see. Next time. Something prosaic for I’m hungry and don’t want to attract attention, he decided. The squirrel darted up the birch tree, he appeared at the very top most branch. His tail fluttering in the wind. Drakaith smiled and nodded. The squirrel tensed and fell. Dropping. Faster and faster. With a piercing crack it thudded into a rock on the floor. Dead. Drakaith shuddered. His eyes closed, his mind in the spirit world. The squirrels soul screamed as it was dragged towards him, ending in a piercing wail as it was absorbed by Drakaith. Other spirits nearby had stopped and stared. Drakaith opened his eyes. Feeling much refreshed. It was like eating a delicious meal, but not feeling too full, just perfectly satisfied. With renewed vigour he jumped to his feet and marched towards the final few trees of the forest. Twenty more paces and he would be out of the wood, proving the old stag wrong. fifteen more paces. Twelve. Twelve. Twelve. He couldn’t take another step. The feeling of fire leapt up his arms. He screamed at the pain. He closed his eyes. The spirit world instantly appearing and a mighty blanket of fog rushed towards him. Gasping he staggered back. The pain subsided a little. He staggered back further, until his body only ached and his head throbbed. He sat back down on the same log as before. The curse was real. His mind swam. Perhaps he could find another way out? Perhaps if he was stronger? Anger coursed through him. This was not part of the deal. But there never had been a deal. There had only been a moment of violence, followed by more of the same. Actions leading to a consequence. Deep down Drakaith knew this. Just considering it, sent a small shiver down his spine and for a split second he felt alone. Very alone. Just a boy, nearly a man. Alone forever. Alone in the Black Forest. Forever. He strangled the emotions. If the world would not know his power, the forest would. A grim satisfaction rippled over him.