Elayra cringed when Ghent finished, his voice piercing the quiet. But at least he was following. For once, she only shook her head instead of giving him a lecture on not needing his help. She glanced upward, then to the base of the trees, gauging which direction the sun rose by the positions of the shadows cast by the plant life, and headed south. She cast another glance behind her, matching her pace to Ghent’s so he was never far from her, and watching for Drust.
	Drust hesitated a long moment at the opening between the wall of trees, before following after the two teens. His neck twitched and he clenched his teeth when the wave of emotions flooded over him. His hands balled into fists, and he forced his breaths to come in a steady, calming rhythm. 
	As soon as he was clear, what looked like brown putty oozed from the ground, twisting its way upward. In no more than a couple seconds, it reached the height of the trees around it and solidified into a mirror image of them, completely blocking the path to the gate into Harrow Hollow Hill.
	No matter how hard any of them tried, the gentle rustle of their steps sounded loud as they hiked deeper into Hollow Forest, roots and vines threatening to catch their feet if they were not careful. Drust kept a cautious distance between himself and Ghent, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Leading the procession, Elayra cast frequent glances to Ghent and especially their guardian, worry and even nervousness gleaming in her eyes despite her best efforts to hide it. She struggled to fight off the despairing thoughts running through the back of her mind, trying to sink their roots deep enough to take full control.
	Quicker than seemed possible, the barricade disappeared from view, obscured by the forest’s plant life. If not for the subtle movement of occasional rustling leaves, the forest seemed almost frozen in time. 
	Not noticing Ghent had stopped, she went a couple more paces before glancing behind her at his question.
	“Keep. Moving. Boy!” Drust snarled, his head twitching and his voice tense as he halted well behind Ghent. The lines snaking from the corners of his eyes pulsated to their own rhythm, expanding and decreasing with a quick beat that made Elayra’s breath catch.
	“Walk and talk,” Elayra whispered. She reached back to once more take Ghent’s wrist, in part to make sure he kept moving, but partially to remind herself she was not alone, no matter what the spirits of the forest tried to make her believe.
	“It’s a defense of Hollow Hill,” Drust answered Ghent’s question, his words gruff. He offered no other insight, the Knight in no mood to explain anything.
	“According to legend,” Elayra began softly, eager to fill some of the eerie silence, “this forest was once a normal forest. But then, the portals appeared out of nowhere, taking the forms of hollows in trees that had grown overnight. The people living here devoted themselves to studying them, to figuring out how they worked and where they led. They became the first Jumpers. They tried to keep the portal’s existence a secret until they knew more about them, but word got out, and people began to flock to them.”
	Elayra shuddered and glanced around, the sensation that they were not alone, that something else lurked amidst the trees, invisible, creeping down her back. She licked her lips, and continued, keeping a diligent eye cast around them.
	“There were those who wanted to simply learn whatever they could, their intentions harmless enough. But there were also people who wanted to exploit the portals for selfish gain. Fights broke out regularly over how they should be used.
	“Then, a powerful sorcerer bypassed what little security the portals had back then. He snuck into other worlds and rallied an army to vanquish those who tried to keep the portals from him and his like. The war that ensued nearly brought Wonderland to its knees. The people feared this sorcerer and his magic companions.”
	She glanced back to Drust, trying to put as much sincerity into her next words as she could. “But there’s always a light in the dark.” Her gaze shifted to Ghent, then to the trees ahead of them. “Three people came together to put an end to the war: Absolem, who was said to be half of the physical realm, and half of the Spiritayum, as well as the first man to fully connect to portal magic; Edelia, the most powerful vinifcium the world has ever seen; and…” she paused and took a deep breath. “And Zandon Heart, a cunning thief and warrior who had never tasted defeat in battle.
	“Together, they formed their own army, even gaining support from a few of the denizens of the Spiritayum. Their final battle occurred in this forest.”
	She halted and spun to the side, pulling her sword a couple inches from her sheath, sure she had seen movement in the corner of her eye. Only the silent forest greeted her. She took a steadying breath and continued forward.
	“The trio met face-to-face with the sorcerer in battle. Together, they overpowered him and his men, but the number of lives lost was innumerable.
	“Because of the involvement of the Spiritayum, they say that battle created a tear here, where the realms of the physical and spiritual collided, trapping the souls of the dead, dooming them to an eternity haunting these woods. The emotions of war—fear, desperation, sorrow, pain—remained with them, soaking into the land, both souls and feelings providing another defense. Some spirits are helpful, and only ward off those meaning harm, while others...”
	She let the words trail off. She swallowed, the sensation of otherworldly presences tingling over her skin as if the tale of their fate had made them gather around to listen, invisible amidst the daylight spearing through the lush canopy.
	Perhaps now, surrounded by the haunted woods, was not quite the best time to share the tale. The shadows suddenly felt darker, more sinister. Even the glittering dust motes felt like they held malicious intent. A mysterious breeze blew through the trees, brushing by and toying with her and Ghent’s hair. Its whispered voice, somewhere between natural and supernatural, made a chill run down Elayra’s spine.
	They were out there, watching, waiting for them to let their guards down, and she knew she would be defenseless against them. As defenseless as she was against the Red Queen.
	Her free hand clenched, and her grip on Ghent tightened. She clenched her teeth and growled, trying to banish the thoughts, to push away the mental tricks the cursed forest and its dead inhabitants were trying to play.