The candle in my hands wouldn’t stop flickering. The light was faint, barely bright enough to illuminate the forest around me, but the small nub of wax was all I had. It was enough. It had to be. I couldn’t exactly turn back. I was too far in. Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t turn around. It wasn’t an option for me; I couldn't go back.

Wind whipped through the trees bringing the faint sound of hissing laughter, and I lifted my free hand to shield the small flame and silently whispered a prayer to whoever would listen. Someone had to be looking down on me and watching my journey. They needed to be. I clung to that hope as I watched the flame dance before falling still again.

They were watching. That was the only answer that made sense to me. The candle should have been snuffed, plunging me into darkness and forcing me to use my final match. I’d only brought three, but even that was too many. We were meant to bring one. Just one lone match, but there was no one enforcing it. No one stood under the ancient and twisted archway, making sure that we followed the rules that were passed down, whispered from child to child.

I should have brought more. I thought bringing three with me would be enough, but it wasn’t. I’d left so many more on the mantle, worried about bringing more than I should, but that was stupid. I was stupid to think it mattered or that anyone would know. It didn’t make sense anyway.

Why would we not be allowed to bring more than one match? I’d asked someone once. Everyone had, but the answer was never enough. It wouldn’t be fair. It went against the agreement the village leaders had with the creatures that resided in the forest. It wasn’t fair to them, apparently. I couldn’t believe that, though. None of the village elders so much as acknowledged the rumours. Only the people who came back did.

Confusion washed through me, and I looked around. I had no clue where I was. The realisation had taken me a few minutes, but once it hit me, I couldn’t shake it. I’d definitely not been standing in a forest a few moments ago. The last thing I could remember was lying down in my bed.

Was I dreaming? I could have been. The world had a strangely unreal feel to it, but there was no way for me to know. I might have accidentally journeyed to the world in my sleep. That happened sometimes. I couldn’t always remember it, but I was pretty sure it did.

I wasn’t dizzy, though, I realised as I looked around the woods again. Normally, when I first got to a new world, I was. So, did that mean I was dreaming? Or was I just not dizzy for some reason? Maybe it was a world I’d been to before.

There was no way for me to tell. I couldn’t see enough. The light from my candle didn’t reach far enough for me to see anything more than the path before me, and the trees on either side. The canopy was too thick, too. It blocked out most of the light from the full moon above me, letting in just enough to cast shadows on the trees, making me feel like I was being watched.

I was. I was sure of it. My skin crawled, the hair on my arms stood on end, and I fought the urge to look around again. It was dangerous. Too dangerous. I just needed to keep moving. I couldn’t stay in one place for too long. That was a bad idea. I had to get through the forest as quickly as possible. As soon as I got to the other side, I’d be safe. Or safer, at least.

Looking down at the ground, I started to walk again, following the path before me. It was faint, hard to discern and nothing more than trampled, compacted mud that had been formed by people following the same route often. But not that often. I knew that. People didn’t regularly go into the woods. Why would they? There were too many dangers there.

Then why was I there? The question came to my mind, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure how to answer it. There had to be a reason, but I couldn’t think of anything more than because I had to be. I was sixteen in that world, almost seventeen. I was running out of time and stupid enough to risk it.

That was the reason, I realised slowly as memories returned to me. The path through the woods was something every single person in our village knew of, even if they didn’t believe the rumours. I wasn’t sure why it existed or how it had started, but it was something all sixteen-year-olds had to face.

No, it wasn’t. I shook my head slightly, correcting my own thoughts. It was a decision we all needed to face, but we didn’t need to do it. We didn’t actually have to set foot on the path. We could choose to stay in the village, which was exactly what I had decided to do.

It wasn’t worth it. I was content enough there. I’d managed to convince myself that I could stay, continue living my life there and ignore the allure of the path. It would be fine. I didn’t need to face the unknown and take my chances in the woods, potentially earning fame, fortune and adventure. No. I could just stay in the village.

That wouldn't be too bad. I’d marry the farmer’s son. He was only a year or two older than me, and he seemed nice enough. Plus, I’d caught him looking at me more than once. He was bound to ask me before long. I could marry him, have a few kids and become a teacher. That could have been enough for me.

My parents had tried so hard to convince me that it would be. That I didn’t need anything more to be happy. They were wrong, though. I should have listened to them. I should have ignored it, averted my eyes when I walked by the arch and pretended that I couldn’t hear the singsong call of my name that seemed to dance through the air.

How they knew my name, I wasn’t sure. My parents were careful not to say it outside, just in case. We didn’t use names when we were outside. It was too dangerous. Once a person was seventeen, once they were no longer at risk, it was fine, but not before then. My parents weren’t even particularly superstitious. They told me the fae and creatures in the woods weren’t real, but they still didn’t risk it.

I wanted to believe them. I longed to believe that there were no monsters in the woods. That they didn’t come alive the moment the sun set. That the flickers and lights that I’d seen as I’d stared out the window on a long night when sleep refused to come to me were nothing more than… my imagination.

But I was wrong. I knew that. The forest was full of creatures just waiting for me to step off the path. It was safe, just like the village. Holy water had been sprinkled on the path by one of the people who’d returned to the village, and silver dust and salt had been tilled into the dirt. I could see specks of it even in the low light from my candle.

I’d thought that was a lie, once upon a time. I assumed it was something older kids told the younger ones to scare them or try to convince them they were safe, but that had changed recently. Ever since I’d turned sixteen almost a year ago, I’d been unable to sleep a full night. Staring out the window was the best way to pass the time, and on more than one occasion, I’d seen priests and venturers scattering a mixture of salt and silver onto the ground at the perimeter of our village.

My free hand, the one that wasn’t clutching my candlestick holder, reached for the pouch I’d tied to my waist. I’d hastily filled it with salt just a few hours ago as I prepared to leave the house, but I’d not taken enough. I should have filled it to the brim and not worried about leaving any for my parents. They could always get more.

It wasn’t particularly hard to obtain within the village. The venturers, the ones who had made it through the forest and chosen not to return, instead becoming travelling merchants, always brought some whenever they visited. That meant there was always a steady supply.

I was foolish. I should have been more prepared, I realised as I scattered a pinch of salt around me, trying to ignore the hurried footsteps that followed. People weren’t meant to prepare for their venture. They were meant to walk into the woods on the night of their sixteenth birthday, just after midnight, with just a single match and a candle. No weapons, no salt, and no way home.

If they returned, they were a hero. They’d been able to see the world, survived the horrors and the monsters, and they could choose whatever they wanted to do next. Most worked with the church. They helped protect the village from the unspeakable horrors, refusing to talk about what they’d seen, but not all.

Wind tore through the forest again, shaking the branches. I lifted my hand, trying desperately to shield the flame, but I was too slow. The wind was too strong. There was nothing I could do but watch as the candle died. I was plunged into darkness. The wind howled again shudder slipped down my back as I fumbled for my bag, searching for the final match as I silently told myself that I was safe.

I was on the path. They couldn’t set foot on it, and I refused to let myself be tempted away, so I would be okay. I repeated that in my head again and again as I struggled to light the match. My grip on the box was awkward. The silver candlestick holder I’d hurriedly grabbed on my way out the door was unwieldy, making it hard to hold and strike the match, but I managed it.

The flame flared to life, and the woods became alive with movement. Scurrying noises came from all around me. Trees and bushes shook as things, creatures, dove behind them hiding from view. I refused to look at them, trying desperately to convince myself that it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I was seeing things. Shadows. Nothing more than that.

Even so, my hands trembled, and I longed to turn around, go back to the village where I would be safe. I stared back along the path, wishing that I could go home. I couldn’t. I had taken too long. If I went back now, everyone would know. They would know that I was a coward. A turnback. The shame of that would drive me mad.

That was what normally happens. For the kids that made their way into the woods during their sixteenth year only to get scared and run home, there weren’t many options. People looked down on them. They judge them for being weak. They couldn’t resist the allure of the forest,but they also couldn’t follow through with their decision. They weren’t strong enough for that, and that meant they deserved nothing.

Almost all of the turnbacks returned to the forest. It never took them too long. Never more than a year or two. Some said the voices got too loud. That they didn’t stop after their seventeenth birthday, like we’d always been promised. They kept going, kept tempting. Others said they just gave up. They got sick of the looks and the pity, and walked willingly into trees, not caring about what happened next or that they’d been ripped to shreds by the very creatures they once ran from.

Despite telling myself that the creatures didn’t exist, I heard them sometimes. I heard the screams in the night. The sobs and the begging. They echoed over the houses, unnaturally loud. We ignored them and pretended we couldn’t hear them, but I knew everyone could. I saw it in the tightness of my parents’ brows, and the lines on their faces the next morning, and I knew they were trying to work out whose child had fallen prey to the monsters. I did the same, trying to work out which of my classmates would never be seen again.

“Graaaaccccee,” the whisper sounded, shaking the trees.

I felt myself step forward, moving towards the edge of the path, before tightening my grip on the candlestick holder. The sharp edge cut into my fingers, bringing me back to my senses. I quickly stepped away, moving back into the centre of the path where I knew I was safe.

A disappointed sigh seemed to echo through the woods, and I swallowed, forcing myself to stare straight ahead and not look at the ghostly hand that quickly withdrew from the corner of my vision. I needed to be more careful. I couldn’t let them enter my mind again. I had to be more aware, keep my attention on the path and keep moving no matter how much I wanted to stop and wait until the sun rose.

The forest was less dangerous during the day. The creatures had less power then. That’s what the venturers had said, at least. But other monsters came out then, another venturer, one that was missing an eye and half of her fingers, had added that. The others had nodded at that, seeming to agree that, no matter the time, the forest was always dangerous.

Keep moving. That’s what I had to do. If I stayed in one space for too long, more creatures would find me. They’d be able to tempt me off the path, but if I kept moving, I had more of a chance of getting to the other side before anything too powerful came. The venturers hadn’t said what else was in the forest. They never mentioned any specifics, they weren’t allowed, but I made sure to listen whenever they gave general advice even though I’d told myself I wasn’t going to set foot in the woods.

Always keep moving was the main thing. Then, they said not to step off the path. Some winced when they said that, their gaze becoming distant. They’d fall silent for a few seconds before continuing as if nothing had happened. Don’t listen to the voices. They said that a lot too. They’d whisper things, try and make you want to walk towards them. It would be hard to resist, they warned us, but if you went to them, death was the only outcome.

What else did they tell us? I wracked my brain, trying to remember. There was more. There had to be more. I was sure of it. There was something about flowers. One of the venturers, the woman who hadn’t stayed in the village for long after she came back, had mentioned them. Avoid the flowers. The woods were full of them, according to her, but they needed to be avoided. I wasn’t sure why, but she’d insisted that they were dangerous. How dangerous could some flowers be, though?

Mushroom circles were another one that someone had mentioned at some point. We were told to never set foot in one. If we did… the venturer didn’t finish their sentence. They just shuddered, falling silent and pulling a glass bottle from their bag before taking a long drink. I didn’t know what was in the bottle, but the fumes managed to reach me, and I wasn’t even sitting at his table.

I swept the candle low, my eyes fixed on the path. I needed to check and make sure that I wasn’t veering too close to the edges. I wasn’t. Not yet. I straightened up again, my eyes staying low as I continued to repeat their advice in my mind. Avoid ponds and streams. Anything deeper than my finger could be deadly. If I couldn’t see the bottom, anything could be lurking there.

I hadn’t come across any streams since I’d left the village, not heard so much as a distant tinkle of water, but I was still cautious. I’d drown before, in another world, and I didn’t want it to happen ever again. But it wouldn’t. I was strong. I could make it through the forest without allowing myself to be tempted away.

I had to be almost through it. I’d been walking for hours, and the sun was beginning to rise. The brief glimpses of sky that I’d caught through the gaps in the canopy were definitely starting to brighten. That had to be a good thing. It had to mean I was almost safe. Either that or I needed to move much quicker. Just in case, I started moving faster, my eyes darting back and forth between the candle and the path.

“Are you getting tired?” a voice whispered right in my ear.

I jumped, causing the flame to flicker, and pressed my lips together. Don’t engage, I told myself. I wasn’t meant to speak to them or give them my voice. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I’d been warned not to.

A peel of laughter sounded, the noise echoing through the trees, as I continued to walk, my steps quicker. There was someone or something walking beside me, keeping pace. I couldn’t see them, wasn’t brave or stupid enough to look, but I could hear them.

“Bad luck,” I heard another voice say from far too close to me. “Maybe you’ll get the next one?”

I swallowed, the candlestick holder becoming slick in my grip. I didn’t know what to do. There was a monster right beside me, and I had to do something. Salt. I was running low, but I still had some.

My fingers grazed the bottom of the pouch as I grabbed as much as I could. I didn’t know what the creature beside me was, but the footsteps were too heavy, too sure. It felt dangerous. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and with every beat of my heart, it begged me to run. It tried to warn me.

Without turning fully, without looking at the creature directly, I threw the salt at it. Footsteps sounded, but not enough. The creatures running weren’t big enough. They weren’t the one that terrified me most.

A low grumbling noise started, coming from all around me. Laughter. Someone was laughing, chuckling. The noise was bouncing off the trees and attacking me from all directions. The candle flame fluttered again, being buffeted by the laughter. I lifted a hand, trying to protect it, but I was too late. There was nothing I could do but watch as the light, my only way to know I was staying on the path and therefore safe, died.

“Yesssss,” another voice hissed as the laughing started again.

I couldn’t move. I was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but stare at the fading ember on the end of my once-lit candle wick. The sky was too cloudy, the leaves too dense. I couldn’t see the path. I couldn’t see where I was meant to go.

But I couldn’t stay still.

For a moment, it felt like nothing reacted despite the laughter. Nothing moved. The laughter continued all around me, but there was no movement. I foolishly found myself thinking, wishing, that nothing would happen. That I could stay where I was until sunrise and that no horrible monsters would find me, but I was wrong. I realised that as soon as the footsteps started.

Distant, pounding footsteps, faster than ever before, sounded from all around me. They raced through the woods, not caring about how much noise they were making, and aiming directly for me. Hooting started up, cheers and cries of excitement, of celebration. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t help what I did. I reacted without thinking and ran.

The path was straight. I was pretty sure that the path was straight. It didn’t really matter though. I couldn’t stick to it, couldn’t follow it. I squinted in the darkness, trying to pick out the silver specks that glittered on the path, but it was impossible. I couldn’t see anything. I had no clue where I was meant to be going or if I was running through patches of flowers, mushroom circles, or maybe directly towards my death.

Maybe I was about to step into a stream. A pond. I wouldn’t be able to hear the quiet sound of the water over my panting and seemingly deafening footsteps, but there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t move slower, couldn’t make my breathing more even. I was too out of breath, not used to running in this world.

A sharp stitch burnt in my side, and my chest ached as I pushed myself to keep moving. It would keep me safe. As long I kept moving, I would be safe. I could get out of the forest, away from the creatures that crashed through the woods behind me. Could they follow me? I’d not considered the question before, but it came to mind now. Could they cross the boundary of the forest? They couldn’t our village, but that was because of the priests and venturers. That was because of the salt and silver mixture they used. What if whoever lived on the other side of the forest didn’t do the same?

A flash of light appeared through the trees in front of me, and I felt my heart leap in hope. A light! Another person? Someone who left the village earlier in the evening, before I did? Or was that the end of the woods? Was I almost out of the forest? My head ached, I tasted blood, but it didn’t matter. I was almost safe. If it was another person, that meant I was still on the path and I’d be safe with them, but if it meant I was almost out of the forest, the nightmare was almost over. I would be safe. I could be a hero, a venturer.

Footsteps appeared from nowhere, a pale hand reached out towards me, and I reacted instinctively, throwing the silver candlestick holder I was still clutching at them. A howl of pain, so sharp it made my ears ring, exploded from the creature chasing me, and I heard them hit the forest floor hard. I didn’t let myself celebrate. Not yet. I was almost out of the woods. So close.

I darted around a tree that seemed to appear from nowhere, exploding out of the woods and into… a clearing. My steps slowed as I looked around, my still-racing heart sinking. I wasn’t out of the woods, not yet. I was in a meadow. I could see the lightening sky. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the tree in the centre like a spotlight.

There was someone standing under the tree, leaning back against it. A boy. I stepped towards him again, torn between wanting to keep moving and wanting to stop, lay down on the wildflowers that sprung from the grass, and rest forever. He looked about my age, maybe a year or two older. The purple and blue flowers grew over his bare feet, making it seem like he’d been there forever. Long enough for the plants to accept him as their own.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was moving, examining his pointed fingernails, I would have assumed he was a statute. He was too perfect not to be. His body was long and willowy, his perfectly white hair tumbled down his back, seeming to be made of moonlight itself. His skin gleamed, pale and flawless. His eyes were the only colour on his face, the only thing that was not a shade of glowing light. They were blue. The exact shade of the flowers at his feet.

“Hello, Grace,” he said, finally looking up and gracing me with his attention.

Even his voice was beautiful. It was low, reminiscent of the powerful rumble of thunder. But I’d heard it before. He had said my name before. It was one of the voices that had been calling out to me for the longest. Since before I even turned sixteen.

“How do you know my name?” I heard myself ask.

I needed to know. I had to know what that beautiful, ethereal creature wanted from me, to know why it had chosen me.

A smile stretched over his face, the expression making pride and happiness rush into my heart, but it died quickly. His teeth. His smile had revealed rows of long, needle-like teeth. Pointed and overlapping, almost like a shark. But much sharper. Fear suddenly started to pound within me, and I took a step back, horror making my stomach sink.

I had spoken. I’d given him my voice.

“Well, well. That was foolish, wasn’t it, little Gracie?” he said with another chuckle, lifting one hand into the air. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to speak to us?”