The forest was no longer the same after that night.
Ever since Maya and Arlen escaped the collapsing stone chamber beneath the mountain, something in the air had shifted. The wind carried whispers that weren't there before. The temperature dipped strangely at dawn and dusk, and even the animals kept their distance from the old paths.
Maya felt it first.
She woke before sunrise, heart pounding, the echo of a dream still clinging to her mind like cobwebs. In the dream, she saw the same glowing patterns Arlen carried on his skin—only this time, they appeared on hers.
She sat up abruptly, breath quick, palms clammy.
Arlen stirred beside the dying campfire. He didn't open his eyes at first—only spoke.
"You felt it too."
Maya froze. "You were awake?"
"I wasn't." He finally looked at her, his expression troubled. "But whatever touched you… touched me as well."
The markings on his arms—the faint luminescent lines they discovered after the ritual accident—were glowing brighter than usual. Not enough to illuminate the forest floor, but enough to pulse softly like a heartbeat.
She swallowed. "Arlen… last night, when the mountain shook—did something inside that cave attach itself to us?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood, brushing the leaves from his clothes, scanning the perimeter of the campsite like he was sensing something invisible.
"There's something following us," he said quietly. "Not a creature. Not a person. Something… else."
Maya shivered. He had never spoken like that before.
They packed their bags quickly, but as they began walking, every step deeper into the forest felt heavier. The light filtered strangely through the trees, bending at angles that shouldn't exist.
"Arlen," she said, "something's wrong with this place."
He nodded. "The forest is responding to us."
Her voice trembled. "Why us?"
He stopped walking.
And then he said something that turned her blood cold.
"Because the forest thinks we belong to it now."
By noon, tension clawed at Maya's nerves. The path they knew by heart had shifted into something unrecognizable—trees growing where none had been the day before, roots twisting in unnatural patterns.
Arlen rarely showed fear.
But even he looked uneasy.
When they paused to drink water, he dropped to one knee suddenly, clutching his chest.
"Arlen?" Maya rushed to him.
His heartbeat was racing—too fast, too violent.
"I can hear it," he hissed through clenched teeth. "It's calling."
"What is?"
"The thing inside the mountain. The thing that marked me."
"Marked you?" Maya grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "No. You're not losing yourself to anything. I won't let that happen."
Her determination steadied him. His breathing eased.
He reached for her hand—tight, warm, grounding.
"You pulled me out of that cave," he murmured. "If you hadn't, I don't know what I'd be now."
"Alive," she said firmly. "You'd still be alive with me."
But she didn't fully believe her own words.
That night, when they found a clearing to rest, the forest around them buzzed with a low hum—like a distant echo vibrating through the air.
"Do you hear that?" Maya whispered.
Arlen listened, eyes narrowing. "Not with my ears."
Maya's pulse spiked. "Then how—"
His glow intensified. His veins brightened like molten lines beneath skin.
She stepped back instinctively.
Arlen noticed.
"Maya," he said softly, "don't fear me."
"I'm not," she lied.
He slowly reached toward her, giving her every chance to pull away.
But she didn't.
His fingers traced her wrist—and something sparked.
A shockwave rippled between them.
A pulse of light shot down her arm, and she gasped—because for the first time, faint luminous lines flickered on her skin, mirroring his.
"Maya… you…"
He stared at her arm as if witnessing the impossible.
She stared too, stunned, terrified, breath shallow.
"Arlen," she whispered, voice trembling, "what's happening to us?"
Arlen looked at her with an expression she had never seen before.
Not fear.
Not awe.
But a quiet, dangerous certainty.
"The forest isn't changing," he murmured. "We are."