"I was…" he whispered, then stopped.
His voice sounded distant to his own ears, as if it had traveled from farther than it should have.
He sat up.
The cavern was dim but not dark.
Pale light came through cracks in the ceiling far above, thin threads of sunlight cutting through dust-laden air. The space felt narrower than he remembered, the walls closer, the ceiling lower.
Or maybe he was misjudging the distance before.
He stood up.
The motion felt wrong to him.
Not clumsy or weak.
But he felt Delayed.
What was that he thought, the realization of me standing up came to me before I even stood up.
He shifted his weight forward and for a split of a second, nothing happened. Then his body followed through, like it had been waiting for permission.
His stomach tightened.
"Okay," he muttered.
He took a step.
The sound of his foot hitting stone came before his foot touched the ground.
He froze.
Is it happening because of what happened at night or because I hit my head or something?
Slowly and deliberately, he lifted his foot again and lowered it while watching closely.
The stone met his sole.
A heartbeat later.....tap.
His breath caught.
He tried again.
Same result.
Cause and effect were… misaligned.
A shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the cold.
This isn't normal.
The thought came unbidden, obvious in a way that made his chest feel tight. He pressed his fingers together, rubbing them slowly, focusing on the sensation.
The feeling arrived fully. Solid. Real.
But the sound of skin against skin lagged.
"Don't panic," he whispered.
The words echoed twice.
Once immediately.
Once late.
He swallowed hard.
He remembered the serpent.
Not clearly. Not visually.
More like a pressure behind the eyes. A presence too large to fit into memory cleanly. When he tried to recall its face, his thoughts slid away, leaving behind a dull ache.
He looked down at his wrist.
The bracelet was still there.
Dull now.
The stone at its center showed no glow, no movement. It looked inert. Ordinary.
Lying.
His pulse quickened.
He grabbed at it, fingers tightening, and pulled.
It didn't budge.
He yanked harder, twisting his wrist, teeth clenched.
Nothing.
The bracelet might as well have been a part of him now.
"Of course," he breathed.
He forced himself to let go.
Standing still in the cavern, he became aware of something else.
The silence wasn't empty.
It was… strained.
Like a held breath.
He moved toward the slope leading upward.
The path the serpent had not taken. Each step felt slightly off, as though the ground was responding to him rather than the other way around. Pebbles shifted after his foot passed them. Dust settled upward before falling.
He ignored it.
Denial was easier than naming what he didn't understand.
The climb took longer than expected. Not because it was steep, but because his sense of effort didn't line up with reality. His muscles never quite burned when they should have. Fatigue came in waves, arriving late and leaving early.
At one point, he stumbled.
The impact never came.
He pitched forward, arms flailing
and then found himself already on the ground, palms flat against stone, knees unbruised, breath knocked loose after the fall had ended.
He lay there for several seconds, his heart pounding.
"That's not how that works," he whispered.
No answer.
Eventually, he pushed himself up and continued.
The exit opened suddenly.
One moment, he was enclosed by stone. The next, he stood beneath open sky.
Gray.
The sky was a washed-out gray, clouded and heavy, like rain stopping itself from falling.
The forest stretched out before him and it was dense.
The trees were still.
Not windless.
Just Still.
Leaves hung unmoving despite the faint breeze he could feel against his skin.
He took a step forward.
The forest reacted.
Birds scattered in a rush of sound and motion, fleeing from branches they had occupied moments before. Small animals bolted through underbrush, vanishing deeper between trunks.
Too fast And Too coordinated.
Like they had been expecting for something like this to happen
He stopped.
The forest settled.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
He swallowed.
"Right," he murmured. "I see."
He didn't, but pretending helped.
As he walked, the forest behaved like something reluctantly tolerating his presence. Twigs snapped after he passed. Insects resumed their buzzing only once he had moved far enough away.
Once, he brushed against a low-hanging branch.
The leaves recoiled.
Not bent.
It Recoiled.
He pulled his hand back sharply, staring at the space where they had been.
"…No," he said quietly.
The path... if it could be called that... sloped downward, leading him through unfamiliar terrain. After what felt like hours, the forest started to get thinner.
He found stone markers half-buried in moss.
Old they were.
Carved symbols etched into their surfaces, weathered but unmistakably intentional. Some were cracked clean through. Others leaned at odd angles, as if the ground beneath them had shifted.
One marker lay shattered entirely.
At its center, something metallic protruded from the earth.
He crouched, brushing dirt away.
A fragment of metal. Smooth and it felt artificial.
He didn't touch it.
A chill crept up his spine.
This place wasn't wild.
It had been managed.
Someone put it here.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
Something had gone wrong here may be.
He moved on.
The first signs of people came as sound.
Voices.
Low, distant, human.
Relief surged before he could stop it, followed immediately by suspicion.
He approached cautiously.
The settlement emerged gradually....clusters of buildings nestled unnaturally close together, constructed from wood and sand stone. Smoke rose from chimneys. Light flickered in windows.
It looked… normal.
People moved about their business. Talking. Carrying supplies. Repairing roofs. A woman laughed somewhere near the center.
No guards.
No walls.
No visible fear.
He stepped closer.
No one reacted.
He walked into the settlement.
Still nothing.
A man passed within arm's length of him, nodding absently as if the boy were just another passerby. His eyes slid over the bracelet without pause.
The boy stopped in the middle of the street.
"Hello?" he said.
Several heads turned.
They looked at him.
Then looked away.
Nobody paid much attention to him.
A woman carrying a basket hesitated, studying his face with mild curiosity...not concerned or fear.
"You're new," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"I—" He hesitated. "Yes."
She nodded, satisfied.
"Did the forest spit you out?"
He did not know what she meant so he just went with it.
"…Something like that."
She smiled faintly. "Happens."
His stomach tightened.
"Happens?"
She adjusted the basket on her hip. "This land's cursed. Always has been. You wander long enough, it decides whether to keep you."
"And the people it keeps?" he asked carefully.
She shrugged. "We live."
No bitterness. No irony.
Just acceptance.
"What about the forest?" he asked. "The animals. The way it—"
She waved a hand dismissively. "You will get used to it."
The conversation was over.
She walked away.
The boy stood there, heart pounding.
Around him, life continued.
Children ran past, laughing.
Someone argued over prices.
A hammer rang against wood.
He noticed details the longer he stayed.
Worn out tools even though they are being used.
People avoided certain streets without realizing they were doing it.
At the edge of the settlement, a path led back toward the forest.
No one walked it.
Not once.
As night fell, lanterns were lit.
No one invited him inside.
No one asked him to leave either.
He sat on a crate near the edge of town, watching shadows stretch and retract in uneven rhythms.
When he blinked, sometimes they were already in different places.
He pressed his fingers against his temples, a dull headache blooming behind his eyes.
Something beneath this place was broken.
And everyone here was pretending it wasn't.
He looked down at his wrist.
The bracelet felt heavier than before.
Not physically.
It was more like Conceptually.
As if the world was leaning against it—and against him.
Above, clouds drifted.
One of them moved backward.
He exhaled slowly.
"I'm not supposed to be here," he whispered.
This place is weird and feels unreal.