The eyes, all six of them, shot through the darkness of the forest shrubbery, each one locked onto Jackson with a piercing gaze. They blinked infrequently, the dots vanishing asynchronously and asymmetrically, seemingly at random. He couldn't move. Every muscle in his body was locked up, even as the rest of his being screamed at him to run, or cower, or just do anything to get away from this thing. He couldn't see the thing's Tincture anymore—it had only been visible for a flash—but in that moment, he had made out a vague outline of the creature.

  Multiple limbs, misshapen and with too many joints that sprouted unevenly across the thing's hunched back. The creature was at least twelve feet tall, and it was hunched. From the placement of the eyes, Jackson figured its head must have been vaguely triangular, elongating outward in front of it before finishing in a long, sharp point. It was dead silent, like how crickets quieted when an apex predator was nearby. Jackson could just hear his breathing, short and panicked as he attempted to keep it hushed. Not that it would matter—the creature had already seen him.

  "Child," a high-pitched, raspy voice spoke from the thing. It seemed to crack and deepen at unset syllables, like it was constantly breaking and reforming its voice. "Why must you reek of fear?"

  Jackson couldn't reply.

  "You are most unfortunate, child," the thing's voice echoed, sounding like its vocal cords were being shredded and replaced every time it spoke, "most unlucky indeed."

  The creature stopped speaking, as if waiting for a response. Jackson only managed a squeak in reply.

  "I bring a gift. You need not be scared. It's the one you wanted."

  Jackson felt confusion mixing in with his fear. What did this thing have for him? Was this just a trap to get him to come closer? At least he managed to say something.

  "W-what... are you?"

  "It is a good gift," the creature continued, seeming to ignore Jackson's question, "a good one."

  "W-what i-is it?"

  He only saw a flash of teeth, broadening into a triangular smile that stretched far past where the last set of eyes was. Slowly, the thing began to shrink back, its eyes fading as it retreated deeper into the woods before it seemed to disappear altogether.

  Jackson stood still for over ten minutes. His body still wouldn't move. Eventually, he mustered the strength to take a step, then another, toward where the creature had been. Perhaps it had left its gift there. When he came to that spot, the only thing he saw was ruptured branches and busted tree trunks where it had been standing. Some branches as high up as twenty feet had been damaged.

  Whatever this thing was, it was big, and its gift was nowhere in sight. If it weren’t for the evidence around him, he'd assume he'd simply gone mad. He didn't want to stick around for the creature to return, leaving the woods in a hurry, flying at a quickened pace back to his home.

  Ulric was waiting in a deck chair outside, a metal jug filled with water and sliced lemons resting by his side. He smiled as he saw Jackson.

  "Lad, how'd your trainin' go?"

  Jackson tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Would his dad believe him? Maybe he wouldn't, but Jackson was more worried about what Ulric would do if he did.

  "Good. I think I've just worn myself out. Made a lot of progress, though."

  "'At's good to hear, lad," Ulric said, patting Jackson on the back as they went inside. "All prepped for 'at exam then?"

  "About as much as I can be." He could still see the eyes. He wasn't much in the mood to talk.

  "Are you alright, lad? You seem rather spooked."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Just tired, remember?"

  Ulric looked at Jackson, debating whether to push the matter further or just let it go.

  "Ok, lad. Dinner's in a few hours, so don't go snackin' before then, alright?"

  Despite himself, Jackson gave a half-hearted smile. "Sure thing, Dad."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Flying up the stairs to his room had been prohibited, on account of him losing control and falling down them during his first week of practice, so he just walked. He wasn't in the right headspace to be practicing magic anyway—he was far too distracted. By the time he got to his room, he'd already decided to leave again, slipping out through his bedroom window and soaring to the Academy so that he could peruse the contents of its library.

  Going to the library and looking through magical history and theory had become something of a hobby for Jackson, although he didn't want to admit he actually enjoyed studying theory. In this case, it was primarily a distraction, but if he had any chance of figuring out what that thing in the woods had been, it would be in a book somewhere.

  With no real indication of where to start, he turned to a section of the library dedicated to historical texts. If one of these things had been seen before, surely it would have been recorded. He spent a while sifting through the contents of the books, looking for any mention of creatures that matched what he was looking for.

  Tales of creatures in the woods weren't uncommon. Hell, practically every town, small or large, had some old folklore about things that went bump in the night and monsters hiding in the forest after dark. Baypost was no exception. He'd been told that if he stayed in the woods after nightfall, he'd be eaten by swarms of pixies. That, as far as he could tell, wasn't true.

  The last pixies resided in the Northern forests with most other uncontracted spirits—something he learned from the first volume of Exnos' Histories. If there had been pixies where Baypost now stood, the Old King would have wiped them out centuries ago during his rule, as he had done with most magical beings that refused to be contracted.

  Jackson had seen depictions of the Old King around Baypost, either in the form of statues or murals, but from what Jackson had read, he couldn't understand why he was so highly revered. He had waged war for half a century, killing and slaughtering most magical beings, forcing them to either obey his will or be executed. Sure, he had brought one of the longest eras of peace and order the continent had ever known, but at the cost of millions of lives. Jackson didn't understand how everyone treated the Old King like a hero. He had waged just as many wars as he had stopped to establish his empire, but all the books he read kept telling him that was right, that it was just.

  For some reason, he didn’t buy it.

  Having let his mind wander, he tried turning his attention from the Old King back to his study of the texts, trying to find anything that matched what he’d seen.

  Could it have been a Fiddich, one of the mountain giants that lived around the Northern mountains? No, Baypost was too far south for that, and the giant would be too tall. Perhaps a Cardhu, a beast of elven folklore that protected the woods? Again, not possible. There were a few elven settlements near Baypost, most more lavish than the town itself, but the only resemblance the creature bore was its long face and height.

  The eyes were the defining factor he had to go on, but little seemed to match it.

  The closest match he could find was the Skye, spider-people contracted by the Old King all those years ago, but its six eyes were countered by their measly height, most being shorter than six feet tall.

  Whatever this thing was, it had either never been seen before, or it had been stricken from recorded history. That made him feel even more uneasy—especially considering he didn’t know what the creature considered a gift. He didn’t want to find out.

  After some time, Jackson closed the book, slotting it back into its rightful place in the library, and left the Academy for his home.

  Ulric had already laid out dinner by the time Jackson arrived, the two of them eating together, exchanging casual conversation. It was a nice distraction. Ulric always seemed to have that effect on people. He was calming, like a gentle breeze or moonlight.

  It was one of the reasons, so his mother always repeated, that people loved his father. Those people didn’t understand him as well as Jackson did, though. How could they? He was his son. He knew him better than anyone else—anyone living, at least.

  Ulric was calming and gentle, but he was almost always stressed or worried. He was the type to fret about whether he had locked the door once he’d left the house for the day, even if he had checked three times already.

  That’s what made him amazing to Jackson—that he could be such a warm presence despite always being so concerned.

  If Ulric hadn’t worried so much, Jackson would have told him about that thing in the woods. But he was scared of what it would do to him. If he believed Jackson—and he was inclined to, given the last time he doubted him, Jackson had started flying—the knowledge of a monster in the town would be torture for him.

  Even then, Jackson was convinced his dad could bear it.

  But the knowledge that the creature had addressed his son personally, preparing some sort of gift for him?

  That would destroy him.

  “Dad?” Jackson asked with a more reserved tone as Ulric finished shoveling potatoes into his mouth.

  “Son?” Ulric replied, mimicking Jackson’s question.

  “I know we said we wouldn’t hide anything after Mum died, but I can’t keep that promise.”

  “Hm?” Ulric’s tone became more serious. “Somethin’ happened when you was out there practicin’, didn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Something I can’t tell you. I want to, but I can’t.”

  Ulric stroked his beard in contemplation. “Ok.”

  “That’s it?” Jackson said, slightly stunned. “You’re just... okay with that?”

  “I get it, Jack. I kept the money problem from you—though I’m sure you’d figured it out by then anyway. You can’t tell me everythin’. ’At’s okay. But if you need to talk about it, or just about how it’s makin’ you feel, then I’m all ears.”

  For the first time since Jackson saw the monster, he relaxed a little.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me, lad. I stole half that declaration from your mum. Wise words she had.”

  “That she did.”

  The two continued eating, eventually splitting off to go to bed.

  Jackson looked out the window, toward the woods.

  The eyes weren’t there.

  But it still felt like someone was watching him from those trees.

  Waiting.