Work Text:
There were many tales of the Elderwoods. Some came from the creatures living in that fantastical forest, and others from the humans who dared to cross these woods. The story could be of wonder or horror, depending on who you ask. One thing was sure: the Elderwood creatures' tales should not be taken lightly, for they are the only warning you will receive.
Among the favorites circulating through the villages were the stories of how the forest came to be and how the two races came to coexist. There were even tales of how the season changed by the whim of a painter's brush. Then there were the darker stories, like how you should ignore the lady of the forest who would ask for help. She is no lady but a mischievous fox that would lead you astray only to feast on your soul. Though, that may be kinder than the Wolf. If you see him, do not run because that is what he wants you to do, for he loves to chase. Instead, go peacefully by Lamb's arrows. At least that way, your body could be recovered.
Yet, even if the Wolf is the one to end you, that is still much more merciful than The Artist. Nowadays, nobody referred him by that name anymore. Instead, the more common name for him is The Hunter.
He lurks deep in the forest, where the light barely passes through the outstretched branches, leaving the trails almost in complete darkness. Almost is the key word because the path is still visible for travelers, even in the darkest hours. All you have to do is stay on that even path. Do not stray, not even a step, because he is watching. He is always watching. If you should lose your way, look for orchids, especially ones shaped like faeries. They would lead you to safety.
Now, if it's that easy to avoid him, then why is he feared? Because there is always a reason for someone to stray from the path.
A scream tore through the forest, sending a cloud of birds to scatter as two figures raced the uneven grounds. Twigs snapped beneath their heavy boots, and branches slashed across their legs and faces, but that didn't slow their pace. They weaved through the forest without looking back, not wanting to sacrifice that precious second.
Bang!
The younger of the two threw himself onto the ground as a bullet took a chunk from a nearby tree. He scrambled behind it and peered back. "Evyn? Are you ok?"
Peeking from a nearby tree was a balding young man who nodded. His face was red from exertion. "Cyro." He looked at him sharply.
Cyro could only swallow as he looked around. "This way," He hissed and immediately bolted with his friend behind him. His eyes darted, trying to find any familiar signs, but it was dark, and the trees concealed almost everything.
Where the fuck are they!?
Bang!
"Argh!" Cyro looked back to see his friend stumble. He grabbed his arm and hauled him for cover behind another tree that seemed oddly similar to the one they left behind. It even carried the same chunk.
"Are you ok?" Cyro asked before being shoved to the ground.
"No! I am not ok!" Evyn snarled. "None of this is ok! You saw what it did to Arno! Lyla! What it did to her–" Evyn's face paled from the memory. "The flowers–" His eyes flashed as he staggered forward. The back of his left leg oozed from the gaping wound. "If it wasn't for you–"
"You wanted it too–!" Cyro shouted before a hard kick met his ribs. "Fuck!" He curled into a ball and looked up at his former friend.
"Because you knew we would. You went to us because you knew we would take the risk. That we wanted a better life." Evyn growled. "We were fools to believe you and this cursed treasure." He staggered away. "I was a fool to believe you." He turned away and then stopped.
Cyro followed his eyes and felt his stomach drop to the floor as the path they came from was gone. The trees swallowed it up.
"No, no… god no.." Evyn backed away. "This shouldn't be happening. None of this should be happening. Where is the path? It should be here, right? Right!?" He looked at Cyro.
Cyro could only stare up at him. He didn't know the answer. He didn't know if there was an answer.
"No, I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die here." Evyn backed away. "I'm not going to die." He took another step back.
Click
The anger melted from his friend's face and warped into terror. His eyes tore away from his to look down to see a flower wrapped its petals around his uninjured leg in a vice. "No! No!" He tried to tear at it, but it refused to give despite how delicate it appeared. "Get it off of me!"
That snapped Cyro from his shock. He lunged forward, grabbing and tearing at the petals, trying to pull it apart, but it was slick and slippery, making it difficult to grasp.
"Aaaahh!!!"
Cyro looked up from the sudden cry before looking back at the flower. He fell back in shock and horror as vines and newly formed branches burst and weaved through Evyn's flesh. It showered him and the ground with his friend's blood.
Cyro scrambled back as far as he could as he watched in horror as the plant grew and grew, pushing out through his friend's fingertips, mouth, and eyes—
Cyro tore his gaze away and bolted, not caring where he was going now. He was trapped. What did it matter? He didn't want to see Evyn like that. Arno… and Lyla–
Bang!
Another tree splintered right next to his face, causing him to flinch in pain as part of it embedded into his left eye. He stumbled hard against another tree and held his face in pain. Tears and blood trickled between his fingertips as a harsh sob escaped him. He was going to die here, and for what? A fairy tale treasure? It was laughable and foolish, and he was going to die.
He sucked in a breath and slowly opened his remaining eye. The shadows seemed to sway, grow, and consume everything except a flower.
It stood gracefully from the base of one of the many trees. Its petals were of a pale pink, shining brightly despite the darkness. There was another one that was rich with a warm yellow hue. Then another of a brilliant red, and then–
White.
Cyro sucked in a breath as he stared at the white blossom that hung from the ground like a hovering faerie. His eye wandered from that one to another and the many more along the grounds, lighting the path with their ethereal glow. With nothing to lose, Cyro pushed off from the tree and followed the flowers, hoping the stories were true.
As Cyro ran for safety, a slight figure stepped out from the shadows, holding a paintbrush with slender, elegant fingers. He watched with eyes shifting colors from periwinkle to blue.
"Keep going," Hwei whispered as he watched the fleeting form. "You're almost out–"
Bang!
Hwei's eyes widened as the air whipped past his cheek and into the shadows. He saw the human lurched forward from the force of the bullet but didn't fall. He was still alive.
Hwei's attention turned away as the shifting trees cut off his view of the human. His jaws clenched and quickly moved as the forest around him voiced their displeasure. Vines and branches reached for him from all sides like grasping hands. He dances out of their reach, changing some to harmless blossoms and sending others ablaze. He cut through the paths and found himself in a clearing, in the heart of this maze.
He hurried for one of the exits, but the vines and branches weaved a wall that stood even as he smashed a fireball against it. He whipped around to see the other exits were closed off as well. His grip tightened around his brush.
"Now, now, now," A voice crooned from all directions. "What do we have here?"
Hwei shivered a little as he looked around. "A visitor."
"A visitor?" A tinge of amusement touched their voice. "I see no visitor here." It deepened to almost a growl. One of the exits shuddered as it unraveled its tangled vines just enough for a tall, lean figure armored in twisted wood and a coat made of fallen leaves to step through. A bone-white, gnarled wooden mask with a gleeful, permanent smile covered The Hunter's face. "I see a rare but invasive blossom in my garden. One who so boldly dared interfere with my masterpiece."
Hwei stepped back as The Hunter approached. "I beg to differ."
"Oh?" The amusement returned to The Hunter's voice as he closed in on him. "Because it seemed like you just let the final act escape."
"He did not escape," Hwei tried to sidestep him, but The Hunter quickly matched his step for step as if he knew this dance.
But, of course, he would know.
"Did he not?" The Hunter retorted.
"No, he didn't." Hwei retreated and felt the shifting vines against his back. Their slender tendrils slipped between his fingers, removing the brush from his grasp with hardly a fuss. Hwei never took his eyes off of The Hunter.
"How else would you describe what happened just now?" The Hunter asked.
The walls around them drew closer and closer, encapsulating them.
Hwei lowered his eyes when The Hunter was just a step away. "I merely ensured that your work will be seen by the broader audience–beyond the reaches of these woods." He said, "It may take time for your seed to sprout, but long enough for him to reach his village when it happens, where it could be admired and feared."
The Hunter paused before he trembled in laughter, making his coat rustle like leaves in the wind. "I see… How considerate of you."
Hwei shivered as a gloved hand brushed his cheek, and like a flower starving for the sun, he leaned against the touch. He didn't pull away as The Hunter leaned close to his ear.
"But I am still without prey." His voice was low and gravelly, sending excitement running through Hwei's veins as the hand down, over his jaw, to his thin neck.
"Let me be that prey," Hwei whispered, "Let me be your prey." He lifted his gaze to look at that mask. He swallowed hard as a finger hooked under his collar and yanked him closer.
The Hunter lowered his head to admire the collar, sliding his thumb over the lotus emblem. "You are already mine, my rare, sweet blossom." He canted his head, "But, I suppose I wouldn't be much of an artist if I weren't versatile."
A small smile grew on Hwei's face as he reached up quite boldly for the mask. "And you are versatile, my Artist," He pushed the mask up enough to see that devious smile. "My love," He whispered before pulling him close for that kiss.