The cavern had grown quiet.
For years, its glowing fungi, humming murals, and steady drip of water had been home. Cold and eerie, yes — but safe. Safe because Ashen had made it so.
Alaric sat near the entrance now, staff propped across his lap, golden eyes narrowed at the curtain of vines swaying in the breeze. The Grand Forest stretched beyond, endless and dark, its canopy blotting out the sky. Shadows shifted with every movement of leaf and branch. Somewhere in the distance, a predator's cry cut through the silence.
"…We're really leaving, huh?" he muttered.
Of course, Ashen didn't answer. The pale knight stood behind him, posture straight, sword resting in its sheath at his hip. His long coat, though patched countless times, still carried a butler-like dignity. His silver-gray eyes swept the forest ahead with calm sharpness.
Alaric sighed, leaning his chin against the staff. I know, I know. Staying here forever isn't an option. But still…
He glanced back into the cavern. The moss bed, the corner where Ashen had arranged fungi for light, the altar with its faint pulse. It wasn't exactly luxury, but it had been his world since he could remember.
Leaving felt like betrayal.
"…Tch. Just when it was starting to feel like home," he grumbled. "I didn't even get to put up curtains."
Ashen stepped past him, pushing the vines aside. Sunlight speared through for the first time in weeks, dust motes swirling like tiny stars. The forest's scent rushed in — damp earth, wildflowers, decay.
Alaric squinted at the light, groaning dramatically. "Ugh. Too bright. Let's go back."
The pale knight paused, glancing back once, expression as unreadable as ever. Then he waited, wordlessly expecting Alaric to follow.
The boy scowled. "…Fine, fine. I'm coming."
He hopped down from the stone step, wobbling slightly before planting his staff firmly against the ground. His white hair, messy as ever, caught the sunlight like snow. His tunic clung to him, patched and dirt-stained, but serviceable thanks to Ashen's careful upkeep.
He trudged forward a few steps, then stopped again, glaring into the thick trees. "You know, back in my old world, people just… stayed inside and ordered food to their door. I didn't sign up for hiking marathons."
Ashen tilted his head faintly, as if acknowledging the complaint without reacting.
Alaric muttered, "Yeah, yeah. I'll walk. Don't look at me like I'm spoiled." He kicked a rock forward, shoulders slumping. "…Even if I kinda am."
The forest swallowed them quickly. Sunlight fractured through the canopy in scattered beams, moss muffling their steps. Strange flowers bloomed in clusters, glowing faintly in the dim light. Insects buzzed, unseen birds cried, and every so often, the silence would return — sharp, heavy, as if predators lurked just out of sight.
Alaric's small body moved awkwardly through roots and brush, staff doubling as walking stick. Each step was effort. His golden eyes darted, wary of every sound.
This place hasn't gotten any friendlier since I was born. Figures. I'm just bait with legs.
A shadow shifted above. A great beast slunk along a branch, too far for him to identify, but Ashen's head lifted, silver eyes locking onto it. The creature froze, then melted into the leaves, unwilling to test him.
Alaric let out a shaky laugh. "…Still terrifying, huh? Good thing you're scary too."
For hours, they walked. Ashen carried most of their burden — salvaged supplies from the cavern, bundles of fungi for food. Alaric complained every thirty steps, groaning about blisters, hunger, or how "civilized people don't trek through death forests." But he kept moving.
Because despite his words, he couldn't stay in that cavern forever. He knew it.
"…You really think there's something out here worth finding?" he asked finally, glancing up at Ashen.
The undead knight didn't respond.
But the way his gaze lingered on the deeper forest, sharp and steady, was answer enough.
Alaric sighed, resting his chin on the staff again as he trudged along. Figures. He's got a sense for these things. Which means I'm doomed to follow, like always.
His stomach growled loudly.
"…Hey, zombie-dad. You brought snacks, right?"
Ashen glanced down at him once, then reached into his pack. A bundle of dried fungus, carefully wrapped, was offered silently.
Alaric blinked, then pouted. "…You call this food? It tastes like damp socks."
Still, he snatched it up and nibbled, grimacing with every bite. "…Fine. But if I die from taste-bud trauma, it's on you."
Ashen said nothing.
The forest darkened as the sun shifted, shadows stretching long across the moss. The cries of beasts echoed more often, closer. Alaric felt the hair on his neck rise. He gripped his staff tighter, his golden eyes darting to the trees.
"…Something's watching."
Ashen's gaze had already sharpened, his pale hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
The forest around them held its breath.
Then, the faint twang of a bowstring broke the silence.
The arrow hissed past Alaric's ear and buried into the trunk behind him with a sharp thunk.
"Gah—!" He ducked instinctively, clutching his staff. "Okay, rude! Do I look like target practice?!"
Figures emerged from the undergrowth. Hunters, cloaked in bark-colored leather, faces streaked with soot and green paint. Bows drawn, spears leveled, they moved with the precision of people who had done this a thousand times before.
Alaric's heart thudded, but he forced his mouth to work anyway. "Listen, if this is about the mushroom I just ate, I swear I didn't know it was yours."
The hunters didn't laugh. Their eyes locked instead on Ashen.
"An undead," one spat, drawing his bow tighter. "And a child cursed by it."
The words hit heavier than Alaric expected. He frowned, shifting closer to Ashen, gripping his staff with both hands. "…Cursed? Hey, I didn't choose him for a babysitter. He just—happened."
Ashen didn't move. He stood as still as carved stone, silver eyes sweeping over the hunters. The pressure of his gaze was enough that the line of bows wavered faintly.
One hunter stepped forward, spear raised. "We cannot allow them to pass. Kill the knight, take the boy—"
Alaric's chest tightened. He stepped forward before he could think, puffing himself up even though his knees wobbled. "Don't you dare touch him!"
The words cracked, but they rang through the tense air.
The hunters faltered, exchanging glances. The idea of a four-year-old standing between them and their target must've seemed absurd.
One muttered, "The child reeks of death mana…"
Another whispered, "Yet… life too. I've never seen this."
The lead hunter snarled, aiming his bow straight at Ashen. "Enough hesitation! He's a monster!"
Alaric's temper flared. "He's not a monster—he's my shield! And if you keep pointing those sticks at him, I'll…" He trailed off, realizing he had no actual threat prepared. His cheeks flushed red. "…I'll be really, really mad!"
The absurdity hung in the air.
Ashen's pale hand shifted faintly toward his sword.
But before steel could flash, one hunter closest to Alaric gasped. He lowered his bow, staring at a cut on his arm.
It was gone.
Alaric blinked. He followed the man's stare — and realized a faint green glow still pulsed from his tiny hand, the staff trembling slightly in his grip. He'd healed him. By accident.
The hunters froze.
Whispers spread quickly. "Life magic… from a child with death's touch?"
Alaric blinked, then smirked faintly despite his pounding heart. "Yeah. Bet you didn't expect that, huh?"
The lead hunter snarled, lowering his bow only slightly. "It doesn't matter. They come with us. The elder will decide."
Spears shifted, bows remained tense. The circle closed.
Alaric's chest sank. He wanted to yell more, to swing his staff, to show them he wasn't just a burden. But his body trembled, and even he knew this wasn't a fight they could win without Ashen spilling blood.
And despite his silence, Alaric knew: Ashen would slaughter them if they pressed too far.
"…Fine," Alaric muttered, scowling at the hunters. "But if your elder doesn't at least offer me food, I'm telling everyone your hospitality sucks."
The hunters blinked, clearly thrown by the comment. A few even exchanged incredulous looks.
Ashen's eyes flicked toward him, unreadable, but there was something almost softer in his gaze.
The lead hunter growled. "Move. Now."
Alaric tightened his grip on the staff, muttering under his breath. "…Great. New world, same result. Still getting dragged places without being asked."
Ashen fell into step behind him, silent and tall, his presence a cold wall that kept the hunters from daring to touch the boy directly.
As they were led deeper into the forest, Alaric muttered to himself, "Seriously, couldn't fate have picked a second chance with, I dunno, a nice cottage? Maybe a dog? Nooo, it had to be creepy forests, hunters, and zombie-dads."
No one answered.
But the forest did.
The wards shifted around them as they walked, vines and branches closing in like gates. And as the hidden village loomed ahead, Alaric couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.
The forest swallowed them whole.
The hunters moved quickly, their boots silent on moss and soil, but their formation never wavered. They kept Alaric and Ashen boxed in the middle like prey already caught.
Alaric trudged along with his little staff dragging against the ground, breath huffing in short bursts. His legs weren't built for this kind of march — not yet. Every step felt heavier, and soon his snow-white hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat.
He glared at the hunters' backs. "Y'know, if you guys are gonna kidnap me, the least you could do is carry me. Hospitality zero out of ten."
No response. Not even a twitch.
He scowled harder. "…Fine. But when I collapse, don't blame me. Blame gravity."
His steps faltered. The forest here was heavier, thicker, as if the trees leaned closer the further they went. Strange runes carved into bark pulsed faintly with green light. Vines seemed to shift on their own, curling away to make a path the hunters alone knew how to tread.
The magic here was different.
Alaric felt it. Life mana, woven like a net, and death mana threaded beneath it like buried roots. It wasn't hostile, not yet, but it was watchful.
Ashen noticed too. He walked at Alaric's side, his pale hand brushing faintly against the boy's back every so often — steadying him when his knees wobbled, adjusting the cloak over his shoulders when the wind grew cold.
It was nothing flashy, nothing dramatic. Just little motions, so subtle that the hunters likely missed them. But Alaric felt every one.
…You big softie.
He didn't say it out loud, of course. He just clutched his staff tighter and kept walking, pretending he wasn't secretly glad for it.
The path wound deeper until the trees themselves formed arches overhead. Runes glowed brighter now, humming low, like a chorus of whispers.
One hunter at the front raised his hand, signaling the group to halt.
Alaric nearly bumped into Ashen's leg before catching himself. "What now? Snack break?"
The hunter ignored him. Instead, he reached forward — and pressed his palm against one of the rune-carved trees.
The forest shifted.
Branches unwound like serpents. The vines split apart, revealing an opening that hadn't been there seconds ago. Beyond the curtain of green, torchlight flickered against wooden walls and rooftops.
A village. Hidden in the very heart of the forest.
Alaric's eyes widened, breath catching. "…Well. Guess it's not a snack break."
The lead hunter's voice was cold, final.
"Bring them before the elder. He will decide their fate."
The vines slithered wider, and the hunters pushed forward, guiding their prisoners toward the glow of the hidden village.
Alaric's stomach knotted. His steps slowed, but Ashen's steady hand at his back kept him moving.
For the first time since they'd entered the ruin months ago, Alaric wasn't sure if they were walking into safety — or straight into another cage.
The vines sealed behind them with a whisper.
And the forest kept its secrets.