The forest was quiet again. Too quiet.
Alaric stood near the edge of the village, staff balanced lazily across his shoulders. His golden eyes narrowed at the treeline where the shadows stretched long in the fading light. The wind whispered through the leaves, but no birds sang. No insects buzzed.
It wasn't natural.
"…This place needs background music," he muttered, tapping the staff against his shoulder. "All this silence is creepy."
Ryn, standing beside him with his wooden sword, frowned. "It feels… wrong. Like the forest is holding its breath."
Alaric's lips twisted into a half-smile. "Great. So the forest itself wants to kill us now. Figures."
Ryn shot him a look, but before he could reply, Kael's heavy footsteps approached from behind.
"You two." His voice was sharp, as always. "Step away from the treeline."
Alaric turned, rolling his eyes. "Relax. It's not like the trees are going to bite."
Kael's scarred face didn't change. "You joke too easily. A beast this close to the village was no accident. Something drives them out from deeper in the woods." His eyes shifted, hard as steel, locking onto Alaric. "And you… with that power of yours. You'd better learn when to take things seriously."
The weight of Kael's gaze pressed against him like a boulder. For a moment, Alaric's cheeky smirk faltered. His fingers tightened slightly on his staff.
"…Tch." He looked away, muttering. "I was serious when it mattered."
Ryn stepped forward, brows furrowed. "He saved us. You saw it. Why do you keep glaring at him like he's the enemy?"
Kael didn't answer right away. His shadow stretched long in the dusk as he finally said, "Because sometimes the most dangerous things are the ones that think they're on our side."
Alaric froze, words caught in his throat.
The silence pressed heavier.
That night, the unease spread through the village.
The hunters sharpened their weapons long after dark. The Elder paced outside his home, his face lined with deeper worry. Children were called inside early, doors barred.
Alaric lay on his back near the small fire in his hut, snow-white hair messy against the blanket. His golden eyes stared up at the ceiling beams as his staff lay beside him.
The memory of Kael's words gnawed at him. Dangerous.
He huffed, rolling to his side. "…I'm not the danger. I'm the one cleaning up the mess. Why can't people just… see that?"
Ashen sat nearby, his silver-gray eyes half-shadowed in the dim light. He didn't speak, but his presence filled the silence, steady as stone.
Finally, Alaric muttered, "You don't think I'm dangerous, right?"
Ashen's gaze met his. Calm. Unwavering.
"…If you were truly dangerous to me, I would not be here."
Alaric blinked, then smirked faintly. "…That's your way of saying you've got my back, huh?"
Ashen didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The silence outside deepened.
And far beyond the treeline, in the black heart of the forest, something moved.
The next day, the hunters returned from their patrol earlier than usual. Their faces were grim, their steps heavy.
Alaric sat cross-legged near the training yard, half-dozing with his staff across his lap, when he caught the sound of their voices. He cracked one golden eye open.
"Found another one," one hunter muttered, tossing down a bundle of fur. It was a deer, or what was left of it—its body half-decayed, like something had drained the life straight out of it. No claw marks. No fangs. Just… rot.
Ryn's nose wrinkled as he stepped closer. "That doesn't look like any beast attack."
Kael crouched beside the carcass, examining it with a hard stare. "It wasn't eaten. It was destroyed." His jaw tightened as he straightened. "This is no wild beast."
Alaric's stomach twisted. That energy—he knew it. The faint residue in the air around the carcass prickled against his skin, pulling at the threads of mana inside him. Life and death. Not balanced. Twisted.
He frowned, muttering under his breath, "Feels like… someone botched a spell."
Kael's eyes snapped toward him. "What did you say?"
Alaric froze, realizing he'd spoken aloud. He forced a lazy grin, waving a hand. "Uh—nothing. Just, you know, looks gross. Definitely not dinner."
Kael's glare lingered, sharp as a blade, before he turned away. "We'll bring this to the Elder."
That evening, the village gathered in the square. The carcass lay covered by cloth, though the stench of decay still clung to the air. The Elder's voice carried over the crowd, steady but lined with unease.
"The forest is changing," he said. "The beast we fought was not the only threat. Something deeper stirs, corrupting life itself. We must prepare."
Whispers spread quickly. Mothers clutched their children. Hunters exchanged worried glances.
Alaric stood near the back, staff balanced against his shoulder, golden eyes narrowed. His snow-white hair caught the firelight, making him stand out more than he wanted. He hated how people kept sneaking glances at him, like he somehow knew the answers.
Ryn leaned close, whispering, "You feel it too, don't you?"
Alaric didn't answer right away. He looked toward the treeline, the shadows stretching long and thick. He could feel it—like a faint pull in his core, a hum that wasn't his, but close enough to make his skin crawl.
"…Yeah," he whispered finally. "And I don't like it."
Ashen stood just behind them, silent as always. His silver-gray eyes never left the forest. His pale hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, the gesture small but telling.
Something was coming.
And Alaric had the sinking feeling it wasn't going to be a single monster this time.
That night, the village was quieter than usual. Doors were shut early, torches burned lower, and the air felt heavy with worry. Even the crickets seemed to have vanished.
Alaric lay on his back in the small hut he shared with Ashen, staff resting against the wall nearby. His snow-white hair spread messily across the blanket, golden eyes staring up at the ceiling beams.
Sleep didn't come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the rotting deer, the way its flesh had crumbled, the way the mana had twisted in the air. It reminded him too much of his own death mana—except this had been wrong. Not controlled, not balanced.
He turned over with a groan. "Ugh… why can't I just have normal kid problems? Like losing a toy or getting scolded for stealing bread."
The fire crackled softly in the corner. Ashen sat nearby as always, straight-backed, his pale figure faintly lit. His silver-gray eyes flicked toward Alaric, watching without a word.
Alaric pulled the blanket over his head, muffling his voice. "…Do you think it's connected to me? That thing out there. The rot."
For a long moment, silence stretched. Then Ashen's voice, low and steady: "No."
The single word carried more weight than a speech.
Alaric peeked out from under the blanket, his golden eyes meeting Ashen's calm gaze. "…You sound really sure."
Ashen inclined his head slightly. "If it were your power, I would know. This is something else."
Alaric let out a long breath, sinking deeper into the blanket. "…Okay. Thanks. For not… y'know. Thinking I'm a monster too."
Ashen's eyes softened, just a flicker, almost unnoticeable. His voice was quieter this time. "You are not a monster."
Something in Alaric's chest eased. His eyelids grew heavy, his thoughts drifting despite the unease pressing in from outside the walls.
His dreams came slowly—shadows of the temple, the murals glowing faintly, the whisper of voices speaking of balance, life, and death. The cavern he once called home seemed to pulse in his mind, pulling at him as if calling him back.
He shifted restlessly in his sleep, brow furrowed. The whispers grew louder, threads of light and dark swirling together until his chest ached.
Then a pale hand pressed lightly against his shoulder.
Alaric stirred, opening his eyes to find Ashen still sitting there, calm, steady, unmoving. His presence anchored him, pulling him back from the dream's weight.
"…Still here," Alaric muttered drowsily, half a smile tugging at his lips.
Ashen didn't answer, but the faintest flicker in his gaze was enough.
With that, Alaric finally let his eyes close again, sleep pulling him under. The whispers faded.
But the weight in the air did not.
Something was stirring in the forest, and when it came, Alaric knew it wouldn't let him hide anymore.