He Died alone.
Deep in the Forest Of Silence, he lay in a puddle of his own blood. Here, among the petrified branches and still-watered streams, is where he died.
Alone.
Death didn't come hard for him, in fact, is was far too easy. The wound on his chest throbbed and a steady stream of maroon poured out onto the cold forest floor. But soon the pain faded, giving way to a dull numbness that overpowered him. There came a point when he simply stopped struggling, when even breathing seemed pointless.
He let go.
And he was gone.
Just like that.
It is true that he let himself die. He never screamed, nor did he fight. He simply stopped running, turned around, and yelped only slightly as the knife was plunged into his chest. So at last, he could have peace. At last, he could be free.
And so, at one hour before dusk, he died alone.
Author's Note: Yes, it's very short, but I assure you the next chapters are not. This is just the prologue.
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