Graves woke to find Marilyn still asleep, the fire reduced to a smouldering heap of ashes. He shivered, feeling the chill of the morning air seeping into his bones. Deciding to stoke the fire, he rose and made his way into the woods to gather some firewood.

  As he searched for suitable branches to break and add to his growing pile, he heard a noise approaching from the distance. At first, he assumed it was a rabbit or some other small animal scurrying through the underbrush. But as the sound grew louder and closer, he realised that whatever was making it was much larger.

  Curious and wary, Graves retreated behind a tree and peered out to see who or what was approaching. To his surprise, he saw James walking through the woods, an ax clutched in his hand. But rather than felling trees, James seemed to be aimlessly wandering, lost in thought.

  Graves hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to approach or stay hidden. But eventually, he decided that James posed no threat and stepped out from behind the tree. He called out to James, trying to get his attention.

  Graves quickly retreated and hid behind a tree, abandoning the pile of branches he had collected. He approached James cautiously, a smile on his face as he tried to convey his peaceful intentions. But James seemed oblivious to his presence, his focus fixed on some inner turmoil.

  It was only when Graves came up behind him that James seemed to snap out of his trance. With a sudden burst of energy, he swung his axe at Graves, aiming for his head. Graves barely managed to duck out of the way, narrowly avoiding death.

  James kept attacking, his movements frenzied and wild. It was strange to see such aggression from an old man like him, and Graves had no choice but to keep running. He backed away slowly, trying to put some distance between himself and his assailant.

  But James followed him relentlessly, his axe flashing through the air. It wasn't until Graves reached the edge of a cliff that he finally stopped and turned to face James. Panting and sweating, he held up his hands in surrender and spoke in a calm, measured tone. "What did I do? Why are you trying to kill me?"

  As James advanced on him with a sudden, frenzied attack, Graves instinctively stepped back and sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the axe that was swinging towards his head. But James, consumed by a rage that seemed to have stripped him of his senses, was not so lucky. His momentum carried him forward, and with a cry of despair, he tumbled over the edge of the cliff and plummeted to his death.

  Graves stood frozen, unable to process what had just happened. He turned to see Marilyn standing behind him, her face etched with a mixture of fear and concern. Marilyn approached him and gently took his hand, leading him away from the gruesome scene.

  "We have to leave," she said softly, her voice laced with concern. "No one will believe your innocence in this matter. It's best if we just go."

  Graves nodded numbly, allowing Marilyn to guide him through the woods. As they walked, he couldn't shake the feeling of confusion and disbelief.

  "Where are we going?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Marilyn didn't answer, simply continuing to lead the way in silence. Graves tried to push the thoughts of James and his sudden attack to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the dream he had experienced while sleeping.

  "I had a dream," he said, his voice still laced with shock. "It felt like I was seeing my own memories."

  Marilyn turned to him, her eyes filled with understanding. "We'll talk about it later," she said softly. "Right now, we just need to focus on getting as far away from here as possible."

  With a nod, Graves followed Marilyn deeper into the woods, still grappling with the realisation that the world was far more complex and dangerous than he had ever imagined.

  As Marilyn walked, her eyes fixed on the path ahead of her, she called out to Graves, "What did you see?"

  Graves hesitated for a moment, still trying to process the strange events of the past few days. "I met people who can do magic," he began tentatively. "And a man named the Maven."

  Marylin's eyes lit up with recognition. "That wasn't a dream, Ubel," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "You really did meet him."

  Graves stared at her in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that I didn't just imagine all of this?"

  Marilyn chuckled and shook her head. "I think your memories are starting to come back on their own," she explained. "Come sit with me for a moment." She gestured to a nearby tree, its branches providing a welcome respite from the rain.

  Graves approached and took a seat beside her, watching as Marilyn gazed up at the sky, a peaceful expression on her face as the sound of owls filled the air. "We all deserve a second chance, don't you think?" she said softly.

  Graves nodded, his thoughts turning to the strange turn his life had taken. "I suppose you're right," he agreed.

  Marilyn turned to look at him, her eyes serious. "Ubel," she said, "I was supposed to fight you. I was chosen to stand against you."

  Graves frowned in confusion. "Chosen by whom?" he asked.

  "Marilyn hesitated before answering, 'There are things in our world that can't be explained by raw words. Trust me when I say that some forces are at work here that go beyond our understanding.'"

  As Marilyn spoke, Graves looked at her with confusion etched on his face. But before he could ask any more questions, the raven that had been following him suddenly appeared and perched at his side. Marylin's eyes lit up at the sight of the bird, and she smiled. "Your friends are here," she said. "Follow them."

  As Marilyn spoke, Graves' mind was racing to keep up with the information she was imparting. "What do you mean, you were chosen?" he asked, trying to make sense of her words.

  Marilyn sighed and looked at him with a sad expression. "Can't you see, Ubel?" she said softly. "You are not a normal human. You shouldn't even be here. The entire universe is at war because of you, even the gods - the forces of good and evil."

  The raven that had been following Graves let out a series of croaks, adding to the sense of unease that was beginning to wash over him.

  "The gods?" Graves repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Marilyn nodded, her eyes fixed on his. "It's a battle between good and evil," she explained. "James was chosen to fight you as well. That's why he tried to kill you."

  Graves' mind struggled to process this new information. "But how?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration.

  Marilyn gave him a sad smile. "The power of good chose him," she said. "But you didn't ask yourself why he was cutting down all those burned trees, did you?"

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  As he considered Marilyn's words, Graves couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion and uncertainty wash over him. "The raven has been trying to lead me somewhere every time I see it," he said, his thoughts still a jumbled mess.

  The raven let out a croak in agreement, and Marilyn nodded. "Who else has been trying to guide you?" she asked, her eyes fixed on him.

  Graves thought for a moment before answering. "The burned trees," he said slowly, the pieces of the puzzle finally starting to come together in his mind.

  Marilyn gave him a knowing nod. "That's why James was cutting them down," she said. "He was trying to prevent you from following the signs."

  Graves couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But why aren't you trying to stop me?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

  Marilyn looked at him with a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes. "I've seen the good in you, Ubel," she said softly. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing by not trying to stop you. It's true that the forces of good and evil are fighting for you, but I can't say for certain which side you belong to."

  "What is it that the raven and the trees have been trying to lead me to?" Graves asked, his eyes searching Marylin's face for answers.

  "Marilyn hesitated before answering. 'I don't know for certain,' she said, 'but based on what I can gather, it's the reason why you're here.'"

  Graves ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. "What should I do?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

  Marilyn looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "I can't help you, Graves," she said firmly. "My life has always been committed to fighting you, not helping you."

  The raven croaked again, drawing Marylin's attention. "I think they know what you should do," she said, gesturing to the bird.

  Graves looked at her with pleading eyes. "Listen, I want to change," he said. "Can you help me do that?"

  Marilyn shook her head. "How?" she asked.

  "I want to talk to Jessica," Graves said. "I want her to know who I really am. But I need your help to do it."

  Marilyn looked at him with a mix of scepticism and concern. "She won't believe you," she warned.

  But Graves was determined. "I know," he said. "But I know someone who can convince her."

  Marylin's expression softened. "You need to leave," she said. "It's not safe for you here."

  But Graves was undeterred. "Jessica brought someone with her," he said, a distant look in his eyes. "A woman. I can't remember her name, but she ran away when she saw me. I think that woman knew me."

  "You don't remember her name?" Marilyn asked, a look of confusion crossing her face.

  Graves shook his head. "No, I don't think they mentioned it," he said, his mind racing as he tried to recall any details about the woman he had seen.

  "You saw her?" Marilyn pressed, her eyes fixed on him.

  "Yes," Graves replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Marilyn closed her eyes, seeming to slip into a state of deep concentration. After a moment, she opened them again and said, "Her name is Ms. Larsen."

  Graves looked at her in surprise. "Do you know her?" he asked.

  Marilyn nodded. "Yes, she's the most renowned psychologist in the country," she said.

  Graves stared at her, confusion etched on his face. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean by 'psychologist'," he admitted.

  Marilyn gave him a knowing smile. "She's famous here," she explained. "More than you can imagine. Do you think she knows you?"

  Graves considered this for a moment before answering. "Maybe," he said. "She saw something on a piece of paper and ran away, but Jessica seemed to believe her in anything."

  "Listen, Graves," Marilyn said, her voice laced with urgency. "You killed James."

  Graves let out a loud yell. "I didn't kill anyone!" he said, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

  Marilyn looked at him steadily. "Then prove it," she said.

  "What?" Graves asked, his mind racing to keep up with the conversation.

  "Prove that you didn't kill him," Marilyn said, her voice firm. "You have his sword, there are many things that you won't understand that can lead to you. I know this place and time better than you. You can't just show up here. You have to leave."

  Graves looked at her with desperation in his eyes. "Where should I go?" he asked.

  Marilyn let out a sigh of frustration. "I don't know," she said, her anger dissipating. "I don't know. How did you even get here, anyway? I don't have an explanation. You don't have an explanation."

  "I'll leave," Graves said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But you have to promise me something first."

  Marilyn looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

  "Promise me you'll tell Jessica the truth," Graves said, his eyes imploring her. "Tell her that I love her."

  Marilyn hesitated before speaking. "I promise," she said, "but I doubt she'll believe me."

  With that, Graves picked up the sword and began walking away. He had no idea where he was going, but he kept moving forward, his feet carrying him through the dark for an hour. Just when he thought he was completely alone, the raven reappeared, as if sensing his need for companionship.

  Graves looked at the bird, a sad smile crossing his face. "I think you're my only friend now," he said. "Lead the way."

  The raven flew through the night sky, its wings beating steadily as it led Graves on a journey through the darkness. They walked for what felt like an eternity, until they arrived at a familiar clearing. It was the same empty, circular space surrounded by trees, with a massive tree standing in the centre.

  Graves looked around, trying to get his bearings and figure out what he should do next. Why had the raven brought him back to this place? As he stood there, a strange feeling washed over him. The wind picked up, and he took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

  Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from behind the tree in the middle of the clearing. He strained his eyes, trying to see what was making the sound, but the darkness made it difficult to make out any details. So he waited, sword in hand, his eyes fixed on the spot where the noise had originated.

  After what felt like an eternity, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a man, with long hair and dressed in old-fashioned armour. He held a sword in his hand, ready for battle.

  The man seemed like a newcomer to the area, his eyes roving over the landscape as he wandered. But as soon as he laid eyes on Graves, his expression shifted to one of amusement. "How?" he said, as if recognizing Graves.

  Graves, on the other hand, did not recognize the man. He was shocked to see someone dressed in ancient armour, as if they had stepped out of the past. Before he could even begin to make sense of the situation, the man had drawn his sword and launched an attack.

  Graves was caught off guard, his mind racing as he tried to fend off the sudden assault. He was in a state of total confusion, the world around him a blur as he struggled to defend himself against the mysterious stranger.

  Graves retreated a few steps, his sword held aloft as he tried to defend himself against the strange man's aggressive attacks. Despite his best efforts, he was not confident in his abilities, and he found himself on the receiving end of a wound under his left eye. That's when something inside him snapped. He became aggressive, lashing out at his opponent with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed. It took only a few moves for Graves to emerge victorious.

  As he stood over the fallen man, Graves was hit with a wave of realisation. He had been in some sort of trance while fighting, his mind and body operating on instinct alone. When he came back to his senses and saw what he had done, he didn't linger on the thought.

  The raven began croaking once more, its cries urging Graves to approach the tree in the centre of the clearing. Graves touched the wound on his face, his fingers coming away stained with blood. He looked at the corpse at his feet and thought about where to hide it. In the end, he decided to bury it in the forest, hoping that no one would stumble upon it. He left the man's sword by his side and returned to the massive tree, his mind heavy with the events of the night.

  As he made his way towards the tree, Graves couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him. The crickets, owls, and rain all combined to create a tranquil atmosphere that he found soothing. He continued on until he reached the tree, the raven landing silently on his shoulder as if to confirm that he was in the right place.

  Graves began to inspect the tree, trying to discern its purpose. He placed his hand on the trunk and pressed his ear against it, but he felt nothing. He took a few steps back and walked around the tree, his eyes scanning the ground for any clues. It wasn't long before something caught his attention, a subtle detail that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He approached it cautiously, his mind racing with possibilities as he tried to decipher its meaning.

  As he approached the tree, Graves noticed a large hole in the trunk that he could easily bend down and enter. He did so, his head disappearing into the darkness. Using his sword to navigate the space, he realised that the tree's interior was quite spacious. He waved the sword around, trying to get a sense of the size of the space, until he was sure that he could easily enter without getting stuck.

  But once inside, he found himself unable to move, the darkness all-encompassing. He retreated outside and searched for something that could help him see what was inside the tree, but the raven on his shoulder remained silent. As the minutes ticked by and he found nothing, Graves began to lose hope. He sat down under the tree and told the raven, "I think we'll have to wait until sunrise."

  Just as he spoke those words, a bolt of lightning struck a nearby branch, setting it ablaze. The raven began croaking again, as if trying to communicate something to Graves. He watched the flames dance, his thoughts swirling with confusion and uncertainty. What was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? He felt like he was at a crossroads, and he had no idea which path to take.

  Graves stood under the large tree, looking around. His gaze was drawn to another tree nearby, one that had been struck by lightning and was now engulfed in flames. An idea struck him and he began to make his way over to the burning tree.

  As he approached, he searched for a branch that was still on fire and carefully cut it free from the tree. Holding the branch aloft, he returned to the large tree in the centre of the clearing and climbed inside.

  As he walked deeper into the large tree, he used the light from the burning branch to illuminate his way. He was met with the sight of a grave, dug into the earth and surrounded by a ring of stones. The raven flew down and landed next to the grave, cawing softly.

  Graves knew then that he had to follow the raven's lead and enter the grave. He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and climbed inside. As he descended into the earth, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being called to this place for a reason, and that he would find the answers he sought within.

  As he descended into the depths of the grave, the raven had vanished, the branch had disappeared, and now he was standing in an empty grave that seemed to go on forever with only his sword in his hands. He tried to push aside his doubts and continue on, but as he stood there, he suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. His limbs grew heavy and his vision became blurry, and he could hear the faint sound of the raven's croaking in the distance.

  Just as he was about to lose consciousness, a bright white light filled the grave, blinding him. As he fell to the ground, he was hit with a barrage of memories, all rushing back to him at once. He remembered who he was, where he came from, and what he was doing in this strange place. But despite the influx of information, he remained unconscious, unable to process it all. He lay there, lost in the light, as the raven watched over him, waiting for him to awaken.