The monster's body still twitched faintly on the ground, steam rising from its blood where rain struck it. The smell was thick, sharp, and iron-heavy, making even the forest seem to hold its breath.
Ashen lowered his blade at last. His pale face was unreadable, his posture straight, almost regal despite the carnage. The storm had passed, leaving only dripping leaves and the distant rumble of thunder.
Alaric lay in his arms, swaddled tightly. His golden eyes were open, staring up at the undead man who now carried him. He didn't cry, though part of him wanted to. He was too tired, too drained.
…So this is my life now. I summon one scary undead swordsman, and boom — babysitter unlocked. Not sure if I should be proud or terrified.
Ashen looked down at him, silent as ever. For a moment, their gazes locked.
The man who had once been a greedy kidnapper no longer existed. This pale figure wasn't desperate or ragged. He didn't even seem alive. But he held the child with a steadiness that felt… deliberate. Intentional.
Alaric blinked slowly. His lips twitched in what might have been the faintest smile.
Guess we're stuck with each other, huh?
The undead said nothing. He simply adjusted the cloth around the baby and began to walk.
The forest parted for him, or maybe it only seemed that way. Shadows shifted, predators slunk back into the mist, and not a single glowing eye dared linger.
The journey was quiet.
Ashen walked with slow, even steps, the weight of the child perfectly balanced in his arms. He didn't stumble, didn't falter, even as mud sucked at his boots and rainwater pooled in uneven ground.
Alaric's tiny head bobbed slightly with each step. His eyelids drooped, but his mind was restless.
So… kidnapped at birth, mom dead, monster almost ate me, and I somehow did necromancy. Not even a day old. Yeah. Real solid start, Alaric.
His thoughts trailed off. His lips tightened slightly.
That small flicker of sadness pressed at him, heavier than he expected. In his past life, he hadn't had family. Now, when he thought he might… she was gone before he could even get to know her.
Ashen's grip tightened faintly, pulling him closer to his chest. It was a subtle motion, but it was steady. Protective.
Alaric's chest loosened a little. He let out a tiny sigh, barely more than a baby's gurgle.
Alright. Fine. You're not Mom, but you'll do.
They moved deeper into the Grand Forest. The canopy grew thicker, blotting out the sky, leaving only faint shafts of moonlight piercing through the branches. Strange cries echoed from the distance — howls, hisses, the crack of snapping wood.
Ashen walked unbothered, sword still in hand, the child secure in his other arm.
Alaric peered at the forest through bleary eyes. Every shadow seemed alive. Every rustle made his skin crawl. But no beast approached them. Not when Ashen's cold presence pressed outward like a wall.
The baby squirmed faintly in the swaddle, making a soft noise of complaint.
Ashen stopped. He tilted his head, watching the child's face.
Alaric blinked up at him.
What? You think I like being carried around like luggage? …Okay, maybe I do. Walking sucks. But I don't like being this helpless either, you know.
Ashen didn't answer, of course. He only adjusted the swaddle so the child rested more comfortably against his chest, then resumed walking.
Alaric stilled.
…Fine. You win this one.
Eventually, they came upon a fallen tree, massive and hollow. Moss and fungi clung to it, glowing faintly in the dark. Ashen paused, studying it. The entrance yawned like the mouth of some ancient beast, but the inside was dry, shielded from the rain.
He stepped inside, ducking slightly. The interior was damp but spacious enough to shelter them. Ashen set the child gently on a patch of moss, then sat beside him, sword resting across his lap.
Alaric blinked at the glowing fungi above him. Their soft blue light cast strange shadows across the undead's face, making him look even more unreal.
The baby let out a small noise.
So… this is our first "home," huh? A rotting log. Real classy. Ten out of ten would recommend on Airbnb.
Ashen turned his gaze toward him. His expression didn't change, but something about the silence felt… attentive.
Alaric smirked faintly, though it came out as a sleepy twitch.
Don't look at me like that. I'm not crying or anything. I'm just… tired, okay?
His golden eyes fluttered shut.
And for the first time in this new life, he drifted into uneasy but safe sleep.
When dawn broke, the forest glistened with dew. Birds screeched overhead, and the air smelled of wet soil and moss.
Alaric stirred, groggy, blinking his golden eyes open. He found Ashen exactly where he had left him, sitting at the hollow's entrance, sword across his knees, gaze fixed outward.
The undead hadn't moved all night.
The child stared at him for a long moment. Then he let out a quiet laugh, though it came out like a bubbly coo.
Figures. My babysitter doesn't even need sleep. Lucky bastard.
Ashen turned his head, acknowledging the sound. His expression remained calm, his silver-gray eyes unreadable.
But for some reason, Alaric felt… reassured.
Yeah. You'll do.
-----
Morning in the Grand Forest didn't feel much like morning. The canopy was so thick that sunlight barely filtered through, reduced to scattered shafts of gold that glimmered against mist and moss. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of wet bark and earth.
Ashen rose silently from his place at the hollow's entrance. He carried the sword in one hand, the child in the other, stepping out into the strange light.
Alaric blinked blearily, his golden eyes squinting against the brightness. His newborn body wanted nothing more than to drift back into sleep, but his adult mind refused.
Another day, huh? Great. Can't wait to see how we almost die this time.
Ashen didn't react, of course. He simply walked deeper into the forest, his steps measured, gaze constantly scanning the trees.
The first challenge was food.
Not for Ashen — the undead showed no signs of hunger, no need for rest or drink. But Alaric's tiny stomach rumbled, demanding something more than air.
The baby let out a small noise, halfway between a whine and a gurgle.
Ashen stopped instantly. He tilted his head, watching the child. His cold silver-gray eyes studied the infant, then turned toward the forest floor.
Roots, herbs, fungi. Small traces of berries clinging to vines.
With smooth precision, he crouched and gathered what he needed. His movements were oddly practiced, as if muscle memory guided him more than thought.
He crushed a few berries carefully, pressing the juice to the child's lips.
Alaric blinked, surprised by the tart sweetness. It wasn't much, but it soothed the gnawing emptiness.
He stared up at Ashen, juice dripping from the corner of his mouth.
…Okay, so my zombie butler is also my chef now. What's next, are you going to knit me a sweater out of moss?
Ashen said nothing. He only wiped the juice from the child's chin with the edge of his sleeve before standing again.
Alaric smirked faintly, his tiny body settling against the undead's chest.
Yeah. You're too competent. It's almost creepy.
The forest was alive with sound. Insects droned. Birds shrieked in harsh, unfamiliar calls. Something big moved in the distance, snapping branches as it lumbered away.
Ashen navigated it all without hesitation. He moved quietly, steps precise, sword always ready.
Alaric watched from his swaddle, fascinated despite himself.
The way Ashen carried him — steady, careful, always braced for danger — it didn't feel like simple obedience.
He thought back to the moment of resurrection. The way the kidnapper's broken body had risen, pale and regal, stripped of greed and desperation. The way his eyes had turned cold and silent, fixed first on Alaric, then on the monster.
It hadn't been the look of a servant.
It was something else.
You're not bound, are you? he thought, his gaze narrowing. You're choosing this. You could walk away. You could leave me here to get eaten by the next oversized lizard that wanders by. But you're not.
The thought made something heavy settle in his chest.
He wanted to laugh it off, like always. To make a joke about how he'd accidentally summoned a bodyguard better than any five-star security detail.
But he didn't. Not this time.
Instead, he stayed quiet, resting against the undead's chest.
Hours passed.
The sun shifted overhead, though the forest never grew brighter. Ashen found another hollow — this one beneath the roots of a massive tree, sheltered and dry.
He laid the child gently on the moss, then took his place at the entrance once more, sword across his knees.
Alaric stared up at the twisted roots above him. His tiny fists flexed and curled.
He wanted to move. To do something. But his body refused him, small and weak.
Frustration pricked at him. He let out a small noise of complaint.
Ashen glanced back at him. His face remained calm, unreadable, but his gaze lingered.
Alaric huffed softly, turning his head aside.
Don't look at me like that. I'll get stronger. Just… not right now. Right now, I'm busy being a helpless infant.
The thought made him snort, though it came out as a bubbly hiccup.
Ashen tilted his head slightly at the sound, then turned back to his silent vigil.
Night fell again. The forest grew darker, colder, more alive with distant roars and cries.
Ashen didn't move. His presence was steady, an unshakable wall against the chaos outside.
Alaric stirred in his swaddle, his golden eyes catching faint light. He gazed at the undead's back, the pale line of his shoulders against the gloom.
His chest tightened faintly.
He thought of his mother — the warmth of her arms, the smile she made for him, the name she gave to him.
He thought of the emptiness of his past life, of drifting alone with no one to care if he lived or died.
And now… this.
A strange bond, born from desperation, life and death woven together.
He didn't know if Ashen cared. He didn't know if Ashen even could care.
But he was here.
And for Alaric, that was enough.
Fine, he thought, his eyes growing heavy. I won't die so easily this time. If you're going to protect me, I'll… I'll try not to make it a waste.
Sleep claimed him at last, soft and deep.
And Ashen sat unmoving at the entrance, silent guardian, pale sentinel, watching as the Grand Forest whispered around them.