The last howl faded into the distance like a torn piece of the night being dragged away.
Lucy stood frozen at the doorway, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. The wolves did not look back as they vanished into the forest. Their forms dissolved into shadow, swallowed by the ancient trees as though the world itself had opened its mouth and taken them in.
The smell of smoke still clung to the air.
Ash drifted like black snow across the floor.
And where the little girl had stood—where she had cried and begged and burned—there was nothing now. No body. No shadow. Not even warmth.
Only emptiness.
Lucy's knees trembled. She had to grip the wooden doorframe to keep herself from collapsing. Her head felt light, as if the world had emptied of air and forgotten to refill it.
"They… they didn't harm me," she whispered to herself, her lips pale. "They protected me… didn't they?"
Merlin was behind her. Silent. Too silent.
Lucy turned slowly.
In the dim glow of the dying bonfire, she saw him standing stiffly near the corner of the room, staring at something in his hand.
"Merlin?" she called hoarsely.
He did not answer.
"What are you holding?" she asked.
Only then did he look up.
His eyes—those calm, sharp military eyes—were different now. Not frightened. Not soft.
They were lit.
Not with fear.
With calculation.
Lucy's chest tightened. "What is it?"
Merlin swallowed, then slowly opened his palm.
In the center lay something that should not exist.
A small, cold object—dark like dried blood, yet faintly shining like moonlight trapped in glass.
A tooth.
A wolf's tooth.
But not ordinary.
It pulsed with an unnatural blue glow.
"This…" Merlin muttered, his voice low, almost drowned by the night. "This fell when the others disappeared. It wasn't burned. It wasn't taken. It stayed."
Lucy stepped closer, dread pooling in her stomach. The glow reflected faintly in her eyes.
"Why would it stay?" she whispered.
Merlin did not answer.
Because deep down, both of them already knew.
The Next Morning
The village awoke as though nothing had happened.
The smoke had vanished.
The ash was gone.
The house was clean.
Too clean.
Lucy woke late, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding as if it were still night. The dreamless sleep had given her no rest.
When she stepped outside, the sky was blue.
Birds chirped.
Children laughed in the distance.
For a moment, she wondered if Part of her mind had shattered the night before and trapped her in madness.
But the faint mark on her palm—the place where light had erupted from her skin—still felt warm.
Real.
Far too real.
Merlin stood outside, leaning against the wooden fence, his uniform wrinkled, his eyes lined with sleeplessness.
"You're awake," he said.
Lucy nodded slowly. "The night… it wasn't a dream, was it?"
Merlin shook his head.
She exhaled shakily and looked toward the town square.
"Why does everything look normal?" she murmured. "Do they even know what happened?"
Merlin followed her gaze.
"No," he said flatly. "This village forgets what it's not allowed to remember."
Lucy's breath hitched. "Allowed… by who?"
Merlin said nothing.
They walked toward the town square.
Slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the earth itself were reluctant to let Lucy move forward.
As they drew closer, noise reached them.
Voices.
A crowd.
Crying.
Anger.
Lucy's heart sank.
They emerged into the open square to find dozens of villagers gathered in a circle.
At the center—
An old woman lay on the stone ground, her gray hair wild, her nails clutching her chest like she was trying to tear her heart out through skin and bone.
"My son…" she sobbed. "My son… give me back my son…"
A man stood nearby, being held back by several villagers.
His face was twisted with grief turned into rage. His clothes were stained with flour and sweat. His hands shook as if he were seconds from breaking into madness.
"I will kill her," he roared hoarsely. "Let me go! I will kill her!"
People restrained him desperately.
"Brother, calm down!"
"Stop it!"
"She's already lost her son!"
Lucy felt ice crawl up her spine.
She pushed through the gathering, ignoring Merlin's warning grip on her wrist.
"Please," she said urgently. "What happened? Why are you fighting?"
A man beside her looked at her and sighed.
"The baker's daughter ran away into the forest last night," he said quietly. "With that old woman's son."
Lucy's eyes widened. "Ran away?"
The man nodded. "They were in love. But both families refused the match. They tried to separate them. So they fled."
Lucy turned slowly to the baker.
"You're angry because they ran?" she asked.
The baker's laugh cracked.
"Angry?" he shouted. "You think this is anger? That's mercy compared to what waits for her!"
Lucy froze. "What do you mean?"
The baker broke free from the villagers' grasp for a second and slammed his fist against a stall.
"That forest is a tomb!" he screamed. "They didn't just run away. They walked into death!"
Lucy's heart pounded.
"But… if they ran," she whispered, "why would that mean death?"
Silence fell.
Then—
A voice rose from behind her.
Calm.
Firm.
Cold.
"Because this is Evergreen Forest's law."
Lucy turned.
Chief Omar stood at the edge of the crowd, his face grave, his eyes as lifeless as old stone.
"A person may enter the forest only if summoned," he said. "Never by escape. Never by desire."
The villagers backed away instinctively, clearing a path.
Lucy's hands curled into fists.
"What happens if they do?" she demanded.
Omar looked at her long and carefully.
Then he answered.
"They never return."
The baker dropped to his knees, sobbing.
The old woman screamed again—so loud it did not sound human.
"My son—"
Omar raised his hand.
And just like that, the square fell silent.
"Go home," he told them.
"They are already judged."
Lucy stared at him, unable to breathe.
Judged.
By what?
By whom?
As the crowd dispersed, Lucy stepped forward.
"Chief Omar," she said urgently. "Isn't there any way—any way to save them?"
Omar's gaze hardened.
"You want to challenge Evergreen Forest?"
Lucy did not answer.
Because the truth sat heavy inside her chest.
She already had.
Omar sighed deeply, as if aging ten years in a breath.
"You were warned," he told her softly. "Do not step where you are not called."
Lucy leaned forward, her heart screaming.
"Called by who?" she whispered.
Omar's eyes flicked toward the forest.
Then away.
"The forest itself."
Merlin stepped beside her.
"Chief," he said quietly, "how does the forest decide?"
Omar's jaw tightened.
Before he could answer—
"Lucy."
Another voice entered.
Deep.
Quiet.
Tense.
Lucy turned.
A man stood at the edge of the square.
He was young.
Tall.
Eyes sharp like broken glass.
"Gary," Omar said.
The man approached Lucy.
"I heard you wanted to understand the forest," Gary said.
Lucy nodded.
"I'll tell you something," he whispered. "But if you listen, you'll never sleep well again."
Lucy swallowed. "Tell me."
Gary's voice dropped.
"Once, long ago, a thief ran into the woods at night to escape guards. He laughed as he vanished between the trees."
Lucy smelled rain.
Or memory.
"By morning," Gary continued, "the guards didn't even have to search."
Lucy's heart thudded.
"They found him hanging from a branch," Gary said. "Not by rope. By thorns."
Lucy inhaled sharply.
"Branches had pierced his chest. His mouth was open in a scream frozen into his bones."
Gary's eyes burned.
"And carved into the tree behind him," he whispered, "were words."
Lucy felt cold.
"What words?"
Gary looked at her.
Then spoke.
"'Do not disturb my sleep.'"
Lucy shuddered violently.
"And beneath it," he added, "were three more."
Her voice barely existed.
"What… were they?"
Gary's lips moved.
"'Or become my dream.'"
Silence.
Absolute.
Crushing.
Lucy felt something break quietly inside her.
The village square suddenly felt too small.
The forest too close.
The air too thin.
Omar stepped forward.
"Enough," he said. "Go home."
Lucy lifted her head.
"You know more than you're saying."
Omar looked at her in silence.
Then he sighed again.
"You remind me of your father."
Lucy stiffened.
"He was stubborn," Omar said quietly. "Too curious for his own good."
Her fists trembled.
"And where did that get him?" she asked.
Omar met her eyes.
"Dead," he said simply. "And still walking this forest."
Lucy felt the world tilt.
"What?"
Omar shook his head.
"I've said too much. Go." He paused. "For your own sake."
Lucy stared at him, then looked toward the forest again.
It stood tall.
Silent.
Waiting.
Merlin touched her arm.
"We should leave," he murmured.
Lucy did not move.
Not at the forest.
Not at Omar.
Not at the invisible presence now pressing against her spine.
The village murmured around her.
But one thing was clear.
She had walked into something ancient.
Something cruel.
Something alive.
And it already knew her name.
From the Forest…
Far beyond the village…
High above the trees…
On a ridge split by lightning and shadow—
A figure watched.
Wet white hair clung to his shoulders.
Moonlit eyes burned blue through rain.
His breathing was uneven.
Pain twisted his face into something not quite human.
"Another soul lost," he muttered.
His claws dug into the stone.
"Another lie from humans."
The storm answered with thunder.
He lifted his head toward the village.
Toward Lucy.
Then whispered—
"She is walking toward me."
His eyes darkened.
"And the forest… is waking."