It started to darken.Not like sunset. Not gradual. Just… dimmer. As if the forest was turning a dial down somewhere out of sight. The wind picked up, howling low and restless, sliding between the trees like it was searching for something it had lost.
There was wind strong enough to make branches sway.But they didn't.The trees stood frozen. Leaves didn't tremble. Not a single one dared move.The air screamed, but the forest refused to react.That was wrong.That was very wrong.I rested my head back against the cold stone again, trying to ignore the way my skin crawled, when I heard Druhva's footsteps crunch softly through the grass.
She stopped beside me.Didn't sit.Didn't relax. She stayed standing, like she might need to run."…Seren," she said quietly.
I didn't open my eyes. "If you're about to say 'everything's fine,' don't. I'm not in the mood for lies."She let out a short breath. Not a laugh. Not a sigh. Something tighter.
"I'm not," she said.
That made my eyes open.I looked up at her. Her face was pale, eyes fixed on the forest ahead, fingers clenched hard around the strap of her gear."What is it," I asked.
She swallowed. "The wind isn't natural."
I stared at her. "No shit."
She finally looked at me then, and there was real fear in her eyes. The kind she usually buried under calm words and careful movements."It's circling us," she said. "Not blowing past. Not coming from one direction."My stomach dropped.
"…Circling," I repeated.
Druhva nodded once. "Like something pacing."Silence stretched between us. The kind that presses against your ears.Then she added, softer, almost like she didn't want the forest to hear:"And Adrian's been gone too long."
The wind howled again, louder this time.Still, the trees did not move.And somewhere beyond the dark, something listened."He's… he's taking his time," I muttered.The words tasted wrong the moment they left my mouth.
Adrian didn't take his time. Not here. Not in a place like this. Every instinct I had screamed that something was off, but I didn't turn to Druhva. I could already feel her pacing beside me, the subtle shift of her weight, the way she kept glancing into the dark like she expected it to blink back.The wind picked up.Not strong. Not violent. Just enough to move.It threaded through the trees in thin, whistling strands, slipping between trunks and low branches like it was testing paths. Leaves rustled, then stilled. Rustled again. I thought I saw movement ahead—tall, familiar, human-No.Nothing was there.
The night pressed in fast. There was no sunset, no warning. Just darkness thickening until the world narrowed to a small, miserable circle of sight. The only steady thing left was the faint glow of a distant light behind us and the soft, rhythmic thud of the horse's hooves shifting against the ground.Seconds stretched.Then more.Too many.The horse snorted sharply.I flinched.
It tugged once at the rope. Then again. Harder. Hooves scraped dirt, restless, panicked. It tossed its head, breath coming fast, muscles tightening under its coat.
"Easy," Druhva whispered, but her voice wasn't steady.The trees ahead shuddered.Not swaying. Shuddering. Leaves trembled, branches rattled like something heavy had brushed past them without slowing down.Footsteps followed.Slow.Deliberate.Each one landed with weight, compressing the earth before lifting again. Not rushing. Not hiding.Coming closer.My heart slammed so hard it hurt.Then a shape broke from the dark."—Run."
Adrian's voice.Low. Ragged. Like it had been scraped raw.
He stumbled into view, shoulders heaving, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The smell hit me a second later—iron, sharp and unmistakable.Blood.
"Run," he repeated, barely louder, like forcing the word out hurt.We froze.Then he snapped, voice tearing through the dark, panic bleeding through the command.
"RUN! GET OUT OF HERE. NOW!"I noticed it then.No horse.
The one he'd taken was gone.Lost. Bolted. Or worse.Druhva moved first, hands quick and steady despite the tremor in her breath. She murmured to the horse, fingers smoothing its neck, grounding it just enough to work the rope loose. She hauled me up, practically throwing me onto the saddle, then swung up behind me without hesitation.Adrian grabbed the reins the moment he reached us, hands slick, knuckles white."What are we running from?" I shouted, fear cracking through my voice despite myself.
"We can't stay," he snapped back, already pulling the horse forward. "That's all I can tell you!"We plunged into the forest.
Branches clawed at us. Roots flashed past under the horse's hooves. The dark swallowed everything that wasn't directly in front of us.I looked at Adrian.Really looked.And for the first time since I'd met him, there was no calculation in his eyes. No cold certainty. No control.Just fear.Pure, unfiltered terror.He didn't know where we were.Didn't know what was safe.Didn't know what was coming.All he had left was motion.We kept going.Not because we knew where we were headed. Not because Adrian suddenly found a path or the forest decided to be merciful.
We kept going because stopping felt worse.
The horse's breathing grew heavier beneath us, its muscles bunching and releasing in a strained rhythm that matched the pounding in my skull. Branches scraped our sides. Leaves slapped my face. The dark pressed in so close it felt like if I stretched my hand out too far, it wouldn't come back.No road.No clearing.
No sign that we were getting anywhere except deeper.
"Slow," Druhva murmured behind me, one hand braced at my waist, the other gripping the saddle tight. "We'll kill it if we keep pushing."
Adrian didn't answer right away. He rode ahead of us, posture stiff, head turning constantly like he was mapping threats that only he could see. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight.
"I know."
The horse stumbled slightly, then recovered. That was enough to make my stomach drop.We slowed to a careful walk.The forest changed as we moved. Not dramatically. Not in a way you could point at and say, that's wrong. It was worse than that. Subtle. The kind of wrong that creeps in when you're too tired to fight it.
Trees grew closer together. Their trunks twisted in on themselves, bark ridged and scarred like old wounds. The ground dipped and rose unevenly, roots coiling just under the surface like they were listening for footsteps.There was no sky.Not clouds. Not stars.Just a ceiling of black leaves swallowing everything above us.
"How long have we been riding?" I asked quietly.
Druhva hesitated. "I stopped counting."That answer scared me more than anything else.Time didn't behave here. I knew that already. But feeling it stretch and blur like this, slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I tried to hold on—it made something cold settle in my chest.
Adrian raised a fist suddenly.
We stopped.
The forest was silent again. Not the normal kind. Not insects or distant movement or wind settling. This was the kind of silence that felt deliberate. Like something had decided to listen instead of move.Adrian slid off his horse slowly. Every motion was careful, controlled. He pressed a hand to the nearest tree, brow furrowing.
"No way out," he muttered.
I swallowed. "At all?"
He shook his head once. "I'd feel it. A thinning. A break. This place just… folds back into itself."
"So we're trapped," I said.
"For now," he replied.That didn't help. Not even a little.The horse snorted softly, uneasy. Druhva slid down after me, landing lightly despite how exhausted she looked. Her eyes kept scanning the dark, never lingering too long in one place.
"We can't keep moving," she said. "Not like this."
Adrian didn't argue.That's how I knew it was bad.We searched for something—anything—that didn't feel immediately hostile. It took longer than it should have. Every tree felt wrong in its own way. Too brittle. Too soft. Too warm when I brushed past the bark.Finally, Adrian stopped beneath a massive tree set slightly apart from the others.It was enormous.
Its trunk was thick enough that all three of us couldn't have wrapped our arms around it if we tried. The bark was dark, almost black, etched with deep grooves that spiraled upward into branches so high they vanished into shadow.
"This one," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
He paused, then answered honestly. "Because everything else feels worse."
Fair enough.
We worked quickly. Adrian tied the horse to the base of the tree, looping the rope low and tight, double-knotting it the way someone does when they expect panic. The horse shifted but didn't resist, head lowering as if it understood that this was the best option available.Druhva climbed first.She moved with practiced ease, finding natural holds in the bark, testing each one before trusting it. Adrian followed, hauling supplies up with him. I went last, muscles screaming as I pulled myself higher, hands slick with sweat.The ground dropped away beneath us.
Good.I didn't want to see it anymore.
We settled on a thick, angled branch about fifteen feet up. High enough that nothing would reach us easily. Low enough that a fall wouldn't immediately kill us.
Probably.Adrian secured rope around the trunk, then around each of us in turn. Not tight enough to cut circulation. Just enough to catch us if we slipped in our sleep.
When he tied mine, his hands hesitated for half a second.
"You good?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Leg's fine."
That wasn't what he meant.He tightened the knot anyway.We sat there in silence for a while. No one spoke. No one slept. The forest didn't move closer, but it didn't retreat either. It just existed around us, massive and patient.Eventually, Druhva shifted, leaning her back against the trunk. "We should rest," she said softly. "Even if it's just closing our eyes."
"Sleep gets people killed," I muttered.
"Exhaustion does too," she replied.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "We take turns."
I shook my head. "No. If something comes, one person awake won't stop it."He met my gaze. In the dark, his eyes looked almost colorless. "Then we trust each other."I hated that.But there was nothing else to do.I adjusted my position, pressing my shoulder into the rough bark, trying to ignore the way it seemed warmer than it should be. The rope bit lightly into my waist, grounding me.
Below us, the horse shifted again. Its hooves scraped dirt softly, then stilled.
The forest breathed.Not loud. Not threatening.Just there.Minutes passed. Maybe hours. My thoughts drifted in circles, snagging on fears I didn't want to name. Every sound made my muscles tense. Every silence made my heart race.I thought about the door.About the way it had opened so easily.About how this place hadn't felt like an accident.Sleep crept in anyway. Slow. Relentless.
I fought it.Lost.
I don't know how long I was out when a subtle shift in weight jolted me awake. My fingers clenched reflexively around the rope. My heart hammered as I scanned the dark.
Nothing.Druhva's breathing was slow and steady beside me. Adrian sat rigid on the other side of the branch, eyes open, watching.He didn't look tired.
He looked like someone holding a wall together with their bare hands.
"You should sleep," I whispered.
He didn't look at me. "I will."
Later, then.I closed my eyes again, this time not fighting as hard.Above us, the branches creaked faintly, adjusting under our combined weight. Somewhere far below, something moved through the undergrowth, slow and heavy, then passed on.The forest didn't attack.
It waited.
And tied to that tree, swaying gently in the dark, I realized something that made my chest ache with a quiet, creeping dread.
This place didn't need to chase us.
It already had us.
And hope that it would be enough.