They stored the fragment inside the cabin.
No one liked the idea, but none of them had the courage to argue with Ren at that moment. The pulsing mass was placed inside a makeshift wooden box, lined with thick leaves to prevent it from touching the floor directly.
Even so, it was impossible to ignore.
The box vibrated from time to time—long, soft tremors, like a trapped breath.
Draven stared at it as if it might jump out at any second."That thing is… breathing.""No, it isn't," Borin grunted.A pause."…Is it?""It is," Lyra answered quietly.
Ren said nothing.
The staff in his hand felt cold—but not the simple cold of metal or night air.It felt… aware.Listening.Waiting.
He had never felt the staff like this before, as though it too expected something to happen.
When night arrived, they ate in silence.No whispers.No jokes.No teasing.
It felt as if the cabin itself were shrinking, the ceiling lowering, the walls closing in. The air grew heavier by the minute.
"I'll take the night watch," Ren said.
Draven raised his hand immediately."I'll stay with you!"Ren shook his head."No. You need to sleep. All of you do."
Lyra narrowed her eyes."Ren… so do you.""I'll sleep later."
She knew it was a lie.He knew that she knew.
But no one pressed further.
When the other three lay down, the silence thickened.Ren sat beside the box, staff resting across his lap. The dim fire illuminated a small portion of the cabin, leaving the rest wrapped in darkness.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then the fragment pulsed.
Ren opened his eyes instantly.The box vibrated.Once.Twice.Then went still.
He waited.He heard Draven's steady breathing.He heard Borin's heavy snore.He heard the faint wind curling around Lyra as she slept.
Then he heard something else.
A muffled whisper.
Not from the box.Not from the forest.From inside the cabin.
Ren lifted the staff, tightening his grip.
The whisper came again.
Low.Hoarse.Almost timid.
Like someone trying not to cry.Or someone using a voice for the first time.
Ren approached the box slowly.With each step, the whisper grew clearer.
It sounded like… a voice.
A broken voice, distant, barely capable of forming anything like language.
The staff vibrated in his hands—and Ren felt something shake inside his mind.
A sinking sensation.A pull.Like falling into something without end.
Not the Cycle.He knew the Cycle's touch.
This was something else.Something insecure.Lost.Scared.In pain.
When Ren touched the box with the tips of his fingers, the fragment reacted violently.
The black roots stretched, pressing against the wooden boards as if trying to escape.A dull thud echoed—one of the planks cracking slightly.
Lyra shot up from her bed instantly."Ren?!"
He raised a hand for silence.
She obeyed, though her eyes were sharp as blades.
Borin woke next, already holding his axe.Draven scrambled from his blanket, flames blooming instinctively in his hands.
Ren didn't move away from the box.
The fragment pulsed harder, like a heart in panic.
Ren whispered, barely aware of his own voice:"You're… trying to speak?"
The roots slapped against the box's walls like desperate fingers searching for air.
Lyra approached carefully, afraid of startling Ren more than the fragment."Ren… what is happening?"
He breathed deeply.
"I think…"The words stuck in his throat."…it didn't just come to warn us."
Draven edged closer, trembling."Then it came for what?"
Ren closed his eyes—
—and the whisper crashed into his mind all at once.
Not a word.Not a sentence.A sensation.
A sensation so deep, so ancient, so desperate…Ren's breath caught in his chest.
When he managed to speak, his voice was barely more than a breath:
"It came… to ask for help."
The others froze.
Lyra covered her mouth in shock.Borin tightened his grip on his axe until his knuckles went white.Draven stepped back, as if the ground had shifted beneath him.
Ren slowly opened the box.
The mass of roots trembled—but did not attack.It didn't try to escape.It was curled inward.Small.Fragile.
Like a wounded animal that no longer knew what to do.
Ren extended a hand—not to touch it,but to offer space.
The main root moved.
Slowly.Very slowly.
It curled around the tip of his staff, almost like an involuntary gesture.As if it had found something familiar.
Lyra's breath hitched.Borin held perfectly still.Draven fought to keep the flames from leaving his hands.
Ren felt everything.
Pain.Fear.Loss.Loneliness.
And one last feeling—so faint it nearly dissolved before reaching him:
Escape.
Ren's eyes flew open.
"It's running from something."
Lyra approached."Running… from what?"
Ren looked toward the forest.
Toward the darkness beyond the clearing.
The fragment tightened around the staff, like a creature begging for protection.
And Ren answered without thinking:
"Something that's coming."
His heart thudded painfully.
"Something big."
The roots curled tighter.
"Something older than the Cycle."
The wind died.
The night turned perfectly still.
And Ren finished:
"And something that followed its trail here."