Chapter Twelve: The Forest That Bleeds Back
The trees bled at dusk.
Not like wounds—but like stories: slow, unstoppable, painful. Ink and sap merged in the air, thick with the metallic scent of memory.
The Bleeding Forest did not welcome intruders. It remembered every footprint.
And it resented them.
Soot stepped forward first, one hand gripping the fourth quill like a blade. The bark split open where he passed, revealing faded names carved beneath: Kael. Soot. Inkbearer. The Erased.
Tali followed, silent.
Remiel came last, watching the trees like they might lunge.
Only Selis dared speak.
"Legend says this forest is the last place the Ink tried to hide itself. Before the Ministry found it."
Soot glanced back. "Hide from what?"
Selis's smile didn't reach her eyes.
"From you."
The deeper they went, the less time seemed to obey.
Steps echoed before they landed.
Branches swayed to wind that hadn't yet come.
Tali reached for Soot's shoulder—and her hand passed through his arm like smoke.
Remiel cursed. "It's begun. The forest's folding us."
"Folding?" Tali asked.
"Reality, memory, story—all turning inward," Remiel said. "This place doesn't protect the quill. It is the quill."
They found a clearing of white bark and black water.
At its center: a single tree with no branches, shaped like a quill rising from the earth.
And pinned to its trunk by dozens of glowing nails—
—a corpse.
Or rather, the echo of one.
It looked like Soot.
But not as he was now.
As he had once been.
As Kael.
Tali gasped. "Is that—?"
Selis bowed. "The fifth quill writes only truth. The tree reveals your unedited self."
Soot stepped forward, breath shallow.
The corpse on the tree opened its eyes.
And spoke.
"You don't belong here."
Everyone else froze.
Even Remiel, who had seen cities fall to living sentences, stepped back.
Soot stood firm.
"I came for the fifth quill."
"You came to kill what remains of you," said the corpse. "The part that still remembers."
"I remember."
"No," it whispered. "You remember the version of you the Ink allowed. Not the one that chose."
Soot's throat tightened.
The forest pulsed.
Then—without warning—the tree split open, and the fifth quill dropped from its center.
Not onto the ground.
But into Soot's shadow.
It sank into the darkness like a dagger into flesh.
And Soot screamed.
His back arched. Light spilled from his eyes. The script along his ribs flared into fire.
And suddenly—
—he was alone.
He stood in a blank room of paper and mirrors.
No walls. No sky. Just endless reflections of himself.
Kael.
Soot.
Prophet.
Monster.
In the center of it all sat a single chair. A boy, maybe twelve years old, hunched over a book he never finished writing.
He looked up.
"You made it," the boy said.
"Who are you?"
"You were me once," said the child. "Before the Book of Flesh. Before they rewrote us. Before you forgot."
Soot dropped to his knees. "Why now?"
The boy flipped the book shut. "Because you touched the truth. And truth is heavy."
"You were kind once," the boy continued. "You didn't want power. You wanted to stop people from disappearing."
"I still do."
"No, you want to undo things now. Rewrite, erase, overwrite—like them."
Soot didn't respond.
"You forgot the cost," the boy said, rising. "Every quill you claim, the less you remain. One more, and you won't be a person. You'll be a function. A tool."
"What happens if I stop?"
"You die. They win. The erased remain gone."
Soot stood.
"Then I keep going."
The boy nodded.
And faded.
Back in the forest, Soot collapsed in the clearing.
The fifth quill now glowed across his chest—an inkbrand etched into skin.
Tali rushed to him. "Are you—?"
He nodded slowly.
But his voice was deeper now. Not louder—just fuller.
"I remember him now. The boy I was."
Remiel knelt beside him. "And what does he want?"
Soot looked toward the skyless canopy above.
"To finish what we started."
As they turned to leave the forest, Selis dropped to one knee again.
"The Prophet has taken the fifth. The path bends now. You must name the road."
"What does that mean?" Tali asked.
Selis stood.
"There are only two quills left. One lies in the Tower of Silence—the Ministry's heart. The other… lies beneath the world. Where the Ink first spoke."
Remiel paled. "The Well of Beginnings."
Soot looked at both of them. "We'll go to the Tower first."
"Why?"
"Because if we don't stop the Ministry now…"
He looked at his hand, where the fifth quill still shimmered beneath the skin.
"…there won't be a world left to finish the prophecy."