The morning mist clung to the forest like a heavy shroud, tendrils of fog curling around the base of the towering trees. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and moss, the silence almost oppressive. Only the soft, rhythmic rustling of leaves underfoot and the occasional low growl from Echo broke the stillness as Zen led the way through the labyrinth of the woods.

They had been moving since dawn, weaving through the dense undergrowth with a practiced ease. The forest was second nature to Zen—a world where every broken twig and shifting shadow spoke volumes. For him, the forest was a living, breathing entity. For Aria, it was a maze of uncertainty and hidden dangers.

She struggled to keep up, her steps faltering as fatigue set in. Her side still ached, a sharp reminder of the wound she had barely survived. But she bit down on the pain, refusing to complain. Complaining wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make Zen slow his pace or offer a helping hand. And she couldn’t afford to show weakness—not now.

Zen’s gaze flickered back to her briefly, assessing her condition. She was pale, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. He could see the sweat beading on her brow, the way her body swayed slightly with every step. But she hadn’t said a word of complaint, hadn’t asked him to slow down or help her. He respected that, even if he didn’t quite understand it.

“You should rest,” he murmured, his voice low but carrying clearly through the still air.

“I’m fine,” Aria replied stubbornly, her jaw set. “Just… keep going.”

Zen’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue. He turned back to the path ahead, his expression unreadable. Echo, sensing the tension, let out a soft whine and nudged Zen’s leg.

“She’s not going to make it much longer,” Echo murmured, his voice a quiet echo in Zen’s mind. “You know that.”

“She’ll have to,” Zen replied tersely. “We need to put more distance between us and the last camp.”

“Is running her into the ground part of the plan, then?” Echo’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just being—”

“Enough, Echo,” Zen snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

Aria looked up, startled by the sudden harshness in his voice. She glanced between Zen and Echo, her brow furrowing slightly. “Did I… do something wrong?”

“No,” Zen said quickly, his expression softening slightly. “It’s not you.”

She frowned, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further. Instead, she took a deep breath and pushed herself to move faster, matching Zen’s pace despite the pain that flared with every step.

The silence stretched on between them, thick and uncomfortable. Zen’s mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic mess of worry and frustration. Why was she pushing herself so hard? What was she trying to prove? And why did it bother him so much?

Finally, after what felt like hours, Zen slowed to a stop. They had reached a small clearing, the thick canopy above giving way just enough to let a few weak rays of sunlight filter through. The ground was softer here, covered in a layer of fallen leaves and thick, springy moss. It would make a decent resting spot.

“We’ll stop here,” Zen said quietly, glancing at Aria. “For a little while.”

Aria hesitated, then nodded slowly. She sank down onto a nearby log, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion. The relief was evident in her posture, but she kept her expression carefully neutral, refusing to show just how much she needed the break.

Zen watched her for a moment, then turned away, his gaze scanning the trees around them. Echo moved to his side, his ears perked up as he sniffed the air.

“There’s something off,” the wolf murmured softly. “The forest is… too quiet.”

Zen nodded slightly. He could feel it too—the unnatural stillness, the way the shadows seemed to stretch just a little too far, the oppressive weight that pressed down on his senses. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

“We’ll stay for a few minutes,” he murmured. “Then we move.”

Echo didn’t respond, but his tense posture spoke volumes. The wolf’s gaze flickered to Aria, who was sitting hunched over on the log, her eyes closed. She looked so small, so fragile, surrounded by the towering trees and the thick, suffocating mist.

Zen turned his attention back to her, his expression softening slightly. She had been with them for only a few days, but already he could see the toll it was taking on her. The forest was no place for someone like her—someone who was used to civilization, to safety and comfort. But she had adapted quickly, never once complaining, never once asking for help.

“Why do you push yourself like this?” Zen asked quietly.

Aria opened her eyes, blinking up at him in surprise. “What?”

“Why do you keep going?” he repeated. “You’re hurt. You’re tired. You could have asked to go back at any time, but you didn’t. Why?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze searching his face. “Because… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Zen frowned. “You’re not.”

She shook her head slightly, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe not to you. But to myself… I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want to be the person who always needs saving.”

Zen’s frown deepened. “Strength isn’t about never needing help.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked softly. “If I were stronger, I wouldn’t be in this mess. If I were stronger, I wouldn’t have needed you to save me.”

“Needing help doesn’t make you weak,” Zen said quietly. He glanced away, his gaze distant. “It just means you’re human.”

Aria stared at him, taken aback by the unexpected gentleness in his voice. For a moment, the harsh, guarded mask he always wore seemed to slip, revealing something softer, something almost… vulnerable.

Then it was gone, replaced by the same stoic, unreadable expression he always wore.

“Rest while you can,” he murmured, turning away. “We’ll move soon.”

Aria watched him silently, her heart aching with a strange mix of emotions. There was so much pain in him, so much darkness. And yet… there was a kindness too, buried deep beneath the surface. A part of him that still cared, still wanted to protect.

But he kept it locked away, hidden behind walls of ice and steel.

Why?

“What are you hiding from?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Zen stiffened slightly, but didn’t turn around. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” she murmured softly.

Zen’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t respond. He just stood there, his gaze fixed on the trees, his expression hard.

Echo, sensing the tension, let out a soft whine and moved closer to Zen’s side. “Easy, Zen,” he murmured. “She’s just curious. No need to bite her head off.”

Zen took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. “I know,” he muttered. “But… it’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is,” Echo replied quietly. “But pushing her away won’t help.”

Zen’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Aria, his expression unreadable.

“We should move,” he said finally. “The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to draw attention.”

Aria nodded slowly, pushing herself to her feet. She swayed slightly, but caught herself before she could fall.

“Are you sure you’re okay to keep going?” Zen asked quietly, his gaze sharp.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice firmer than before. “Let’s go.”

Zen hesitated, then nodded curtly. He turned and started walking again, his steps light and silent. Echo followed, his gaze flicking back to Aria every few moments.

They moved through the forest in silence, the only sound the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. The mist seemed to thicken as they went, swallowing the trees and turning the world into a blur of gray and black. The air was heavy, thick with moisture and the faint scent of decay.

Zen’s senses were on high alert, every nerve tingling with a strange, electric energy. Something was wrong. He could feel it, could almost taste it in the air. The forest was… different. The shadows were darker, the silence deeper. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting.

And then he saw it.

A faint flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. A flash of silver, gone as quickly as it appeared. He froze, his hand tightening on the hilt of his katana. Echo stiffened beside him, his ears pinned back.

“What is it?” Aria whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

Zen didn’t respond. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. The forest seemed to ripple around him, the mist swirling and twisting as if it were alive. He took another step, his heart pounding in his chest.

And then he saw it. The shimmering outline of something… someone… standing just beyond the edge of the clearing.

A figure, tall and shadowy, its form flickering in and out of existence. Its eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, watching him with anunnerving intensity. The figure was neither solid nor transparent—an echo of something that shouldn’t exist, a remnant caught between two worlds.

Zen’s grip on his katana tightened. He had seen things like this before—shadows of the past, glimpses of what once was. But this… this felt different. Stronger. More present. He took a cautious step forward, his gaze locked on the figure.

“What… what is that?” Aria breathed, her voice trembling.

“Stay back,” Zen ordered quietly, his tone firm.

Echo’s fur bristled, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “It’s not… normal,” the wolf muttered. “It doesn’t smell like a creature. It smells… wrong.”

Zen nodded slowly. He could feel it too—the unnatural chill in the air, the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Whatever this was, it wasn’t of this world. But it wasn’t a demon either. It was something… else.

“Who are you?” Zen called out, his voice steady despite the tension coiled in his chest.

The figure didn’t move. It just stood there, watching him with those eerie, glowing eyes. For a moment, Zen thought it wouldn’t respond. But then, slowly, it lifted a hand—a hand that shimmered like water, the edges blurred and indistinct.

“Child of the Forest,” the figure whispered, its voice echoing through the clearing like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Zen’s blood ran cold. He took a step back, his heart pounding. “What did you say?”

“Child of the Forest,” the figure repeated softly. Its voice was strange, layered, as if a thousand voices were speaking at once. “The one who wanders. The one who sees.”

Zen’s jaw clenched. He glanced at Echo, who was baring his teeth, his golden eyes narrowed.

“What do you want?” Zen demanded, his voice hard.

The figure tilted its head slightly, as if considering the question. Then it lowered its hand, the glow in its eyes flickering.

“To warn you,” it murmured. “The forest is changing. The lines are blurring. The past… the future… they are not separate here. You will see… and you will suffer.”

Zen’s grip tightened on his katana, his knuckles white. “What are you talking about?”

The figure’s gaze seemed to pierce through him, seeing something deep inside that even Zen couldn’t understand. “You will see,” it whispered again. “And you will remember.”

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure vanished. The mist swirled around the spot where it had stood, then dissipated, leaving only silence in its wake.

Zen stood there, his chest heaving, his mind racing. The world felt strangely still, as if time itself had paused for just a moment. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping the clearing, but there was no sign of the figure. No trace that it had ever been there.

“What… what was that?” Aria whispered, her voice shaky.

Zen didn’t respond immediately. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I don’t know,” he muttered finally. “But it’s gone now.”

“Gone?” Echo growled softly. “Just like that?”

Zen nodded slowly. “For now.”

Aria shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “That thing… it knew you. It called you…”

“Don’t,” Zen said sharply, cutting her off. “Don’t repeat it.”

She flinched, taken aback by the harshness in his voice. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” Zen muttered. He sheathed his katana, his gaze still scanning the trees around them. “Let’s move.”

Aria hesitated, then nodded slowly. She followed him as he turned and started walking again, her steps unsteady. Echo trotted beside her, his ears pinned back, his gaze darting around warily.

The silence stretched on between them, heavy and oppressive. Zen’s mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic whirl of confusion and fear. The figure’s words echoed in his mind, sending a chill down his spine.

The past… the future… they are not separate here. You will see… and you will suffer.

What did it mean? What was happening to the forest? And why did it call him Child of the Forest? It wasn’t the first time he had heard that name. The Spirit of the Forest had called him the same thing when they first met. But what did it mean? Why was he the one who had to bear this burden?

“Zen,” Aria’s voice cut through his thoughts, soft and hesitant.

He glanced back at her, his expression tense. “What?”

She bit her lip, her gaze uncertain. “Are you… are you okay?”

Zen blinked, taken aback by the question. “I’m fine,” he said automatically.

“You don’t look fine,” she murmured. “You look… scared.”

Zen’s jaw tightened. “I’m not scared.”

“Liar,” she whispered softly.

Zen’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

Aria stared at him, her eyes wide and searching. “Because… I think you’re trying to protect me,” she said quietly. “But you’re scared of something. And I… I want to know what it is.”

Zen opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He looked away, his gaze hardening. “It’s none of your business.”

Aria flinched, but didn’t back down. “Maybe not. But I’m here, aren’t I? And I… I want to understand.”

Zen’s fists clenched at his sides. “There’s nothing to understand.”

“Zen—”

“I said, drop it,” he snapped, his voice like a whip crack in the silence.

Aria fell silent, her expression pained. She glanced away, her shoulders slumping slightly.

Echo whined softly, his gaze flicking between them. “You could… you know… try being nice for once,” he murmured.

Zen shot him a withering glare. “Shut up, Echo.”

The wolf snorted, his eyes glinting with mischief. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You’re always so grumpy.”

Zen growled softly under his breath, but didn’t respond. He turned away, his gaze fixed firmly on the path ahead. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for any of this. Whatever that figure was, whatever it wanted… it was a distraction. Something he didn’t need.

But the words lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.

You will see… and you will remember.

Zen shook his head sharply, trying to clear the thoughts away. No. He couldn’t let it get to him. Not now. Not when they were still so deep in the forest, still so vulnerable. He had to focus. Had to keep moving.

“Come on,” he muttered, his voice tight. “We need to keep going.”

Aria hesitated, then nodded slowly. She followed him silently, her gaze lingering on his tense form. She could see the fear in his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he gripped the hilt of his katana. Whatever that figure was, whatever it had said… it had shaken him. Shaken him to his core.

But he wouldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t open up. He just kept pushing forward, as if running from something only he could see.

Aria’s heart ached for him, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to help. All she could do was follow him, stay by his side, and hope that one day… he would let her in.