Inside one of the nearby cabins, Ren sat cross-legged on the floor, back leaning against the wooden wall. Across from him, Eva sat near the window, chin resting on her hand as she gazed out into the colorless haze that swallowed the village. It was so silent. It was peaceful.
"Ren..." Eva murmured, "Do you think we should keep going?"
He blinked, dragging his gaze from the floorboard. "What do you mean?"
She turned slightly, her reflection faint in the gray glass. "You know what I mean...Keep moving on. Keep searching for whatever lies beyond this place…Or if we should just stop."
Ren was silent, his hand absently brushing the hilt of his dagger. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I don't know, Eva...It's hard for me to decide that right now..."
Eva stood up from the window and crossed the room. The floor groaned under her bare feet as she sank down beside him on the floor. For a moment she didn't speak—just sat there, watching him stare at the floorboard.
"You're scared," She said softly.
Ren's gaze lifted slowly to her. "Scared?"
"Tell me," Eva pleaded in warmth. "What's worrying you?"
Ren exhaled through his nose, rubbing a thumb along the edge of his dagger's hilt.
"There's more..." Ren whispered, a hint of fear in his voice.
"More?" Eva questioned. "More of what?"
"That old woman I talked to..." His tone grew flat, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. "She told me there were others like the Mother. That she saw them with her own eyes...And that when they appeared in the sky, even Mother went into hiding until they vanished."
"Even...she hid?" Her gaze dropped to the floor, mind reeling with the image. "I thought the Mother was…I thought she was the end of it. That there couldn't be anything above her."
Ren's hand stilled on his dagger, the faintest tremor in his grip.
"If even she feared them, what are they?"
Ren didn't answer right away. His eyes drifted to the window, the mist pressing faintly against the glass, as if it were listening to them.
"I don't know," Ren finally muttered. "But she said they were older...stronger than Mother."
Eva hugged her knees to her chest.
"So...if we keep going on, we could end up meeting them too."
"Yeah," He said quietly. "We could."
Eva let out a shaky breath and rested her chin on her knees.
"Then, maybe stopping doesn't sound so bad."
He looked at her again, longer this time. "You mean staying here?"
"For a while longer at least...I don't know if I could face something like that."
Ren's hand tightened on his dagger, but then eased. He looked down, his reflection faint in the metal. "Yeah…" He said, almost under his breath. "I get that."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're not just saying that, are you?"
Ren shook his head faintly, eyes still on the dagger. "No. I don't know if I could either."
Through a moment of silence, Eva stood elegantly, walking toward the aged front door.
"I want to go talk to her myself, the old woman."
Ren only nodded.
She lingered at the door for a moment. "You'll be here when I get back, right?"
A faint, tired smirk curved his lips. "Yeah. I'll be here."
Outside, Eva followed the worn dirt path, her steps leaving faint prints that the fog filled in moments later. The old woman sat on a broken bench along the road, watching the kids play with each other in the field. While Eva approached, the woman looked up, her eyes milky.
"Ah," The old lady said. "The companion returns."
Eva lowered her head slightly. "I…I hope I'm not disturbing you."
Eva lowered herself beside the old woman, the bench creaking faintly beneath her weight.
The old woman smiled, her face lined with crinkled exhaustion.
"You see them?" She asked, gesturing with a trembling hand toward the field.
Eva followed her gaze. A few children she played with—thin and weak with a ghostly palette—were chasing one another through the mist, their laughter and joy muffled but real.
"They seem happy," Eva murmured, smiling as she watched them.
"They are," The woman replied. "They laugh and play all the time here."
Eva enjoyed the sight, children still being able to be children in this cursed world.
"Now...what is it that you came to me for?" The woman's raspy voice lowered slightly.
"He's worried," Eva said quietly, her grip on her dress tightening.
"Your friend?"
Eva hesitated.
Her throat tightened as her mind wondered to what happened beneath the surface—how she died, what she became—but all that came was a blur. And Ren's expression when he'd found her again—like he was staring at something he couldn't bear to lose again.
"It seems you care for the boy very much..." The old woman nodded slowly.
Eva responded with a weak nod.
"He tries to hide it." Eva's eyes fell to the ground. "But I can feel it when he looks at me."
The woman's milky eyes narrowed on Eva.
"He...he's afraid. Not just of what's ahead, but of what has happened." Eva's voice softened. "I don't know what happened down there. When I woke up, I couldn't remember. But...whatever it was , it broke something inside him. I can feel it when he is close."
"Child, there are wounds that don't scar the flesh, but something deeper within us." The woman's expression turned distant. "And that poor boy carries the burden of many."
"I believe that's true...but—" Eva questioned.
"Then perhaps he is hiding it for a reason..." The old lady gave a warm smile, wrinkles creasing at her lips. "Because you're the only thing keeping him from being taken away."
Back at the cabin, Ren sat in the same position, though his hands now rested loosely in his lap. The silence of the room pressed down on him.
He looked toward the door Eva had walked through.
"Keep going," Ren muttered to himself, but the words tasted awful in his mouth.
He knew what it meant.
To push forward, to keep fighting, but he didn't know if he wanted to anymore.
"If we were to escape this world." Ren thought to himself. "What would I be left with? What would...be left of me? If she could return to what was left of the real world, or even find peace in some other afterlife besides this one. What would I do? Where would I go?"
The questions burrowed into his mind. He wanted to believe she'd go back to the world that had forgotten him—that maybe she'd be able to live a happy life. But deep down in his heart, he knew she belonged to this place now, just as much as he did. She was stuck in here too.
The same emptiness.
The same cycle of loss.
But here, even in this horror, he'd found something real.
It was her.
She made him feel something he hadn't in a long time—connection. The thought of losing that—of losing her—struck deeper than any wound the Wretched Vale could give him.
Ren looked at the spot where she'd sat, her comfort still lingering faintly on the floorboards.
"I...don't want this to end."
His jaw tightened.
"Selfish..." He thought bitterly.
To want to stay here, to pretend this place could last. That was weakness. If this world were to fall apart, or if those things above the Mother came, she'd be the price for his hesitation.
His fingers tightened around the dagger's hilt.
"No," He muttered under his breath. "Not like before."
If this place wanted to take her, it would have to take him first. Whatever waited beyond the forest—gods, monsters, or even the end itself—it wouldn't touch her if he stood there.
When Eva finally returned, she would find him still there, exactly as he promised. But something in his gaze would have changed—not peace, not calm, but quiet resolve.
He had made his choice.