The forest grew quieter the deeper they went.
Not in peace — in tension. The kind of quiet where even the trees seemed to hold their breath. No birds. No bugs. No breeze.
Phoenix limped beside Ryliegh, hand pressed tight to his ribs beneath the crimson armor. Every step was labored, shallow breaths rattling from his helm.
"You've cracked at least two," Ryliegh said without looking.
"I count three," Phoenix replied, half-joking. "But hey, I'm an optimist."
"You need rest."
Phoenix grunted. "Rest is for the—"
"Dead?" Ryliegh cut in. "Because that's where you're headed if we don't stop."
They came to a split in the overgrown path.
The left sloped downward into shadow — overgrown, but quiet. Safer.
The right cut through the ruins of what looked like an old logging road — open, exposed, but faster.
Ryliegh stared at both. His gauntlet hovered near the hilt of his sword.
Phoenix leaned against a tree, trying not to show how much his knees were shaking. "So, what's it going to be?"
Ryliegh didn't answer immediately.
He was thinking tactically — not emotionally. The ruins were a trap waiting to happen. But they were faster, more direct. He could get Phoenix out. Maybe. If they weren't ambushed.
The forest path was safer… but slower. Phoenix wouldn't last another full day on broken ribs and half a lung.
And worse — there was movement. He could feel it again. A change in the quiet. The kind that meant the things in the trees were already circling.
"You should go left," Phoenix said, catching his breath. "Slower, yeah, but you'll make it out."
Ryliegh turned his head toward him. "I said you need rest. Not me."
"You can't fight them carrying a cripple," Phoenix said flatly. "Be smart."
"I am smart. I'm not stupid." Ryliegh stepped toward him. "I leave you behind, you die. You die, I lose the only living witness to the reds. You're not a burden. You're a mission asset."
Phoenix stared at him. "You are a dick."
Ryliegh shrugged. "Honest."
Phoenix straightened, hissing through his teeth. "Then we take the road."
Ryliegh raised an eyebrow.
Phoenix added, "You're not going to convince me to crawl into a cave and rot."
Ryliegh was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded once.
"Road it is."
They stepped onto the path together, sun barely piercing the clouded canopy overhead. The wind stirred for the first time in hours — like the forest was sighing. Or laughing.
As they walked, Phoenix muttered, "Ray."
"What?"
"I'm not a martyr."
"Good. I don't like martyrs."
"Good," Phoenix echoed. "Because if I die, I'm haunting you."
Ryliegh didn't look over. "Get in line."
The trees thinned around them.
Ahead, something waited.
But they walked anyway.