The forest was silent again.
The kind of silence that didn't feel peaceful — it felt hollow. Like everything had been holding its breath and finally exhaled when the last monster fell.
Ash drifted through the air where the battle had ended. The smell of burnt moss, blood, and mana clung to the ground. The once-green clearing was now a scar of blackened roots and scorched earth, broken by claw marks that dug deep into the soil.
Alaric stood at the center, breathing hard. His small hands gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles ached. The light at its tip flickered out with a faint hum, leaving only the glow of his golden eyes in the dusk.
"…Still alive," he muttered, voice hoarse.
His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. He could still feel the leftover energy buzzing under his skin — the life mana that tried to mend him and the death mana that wanted to swallow everything else. Keeping them in balance was exhausting.
Ashen stood not far from him, silver-gray eyes calm and steady. His long, dark coat brushed the dirt as he moved closer, boots crunching against shattered twigs. Even in the aftermath of chaos, he looked almost untouched — a faint tear in his sleeve the only proof that he'd been fighting at all.
"You're injured," Ashen said quietly.
Alaric looked down at his arm. Blood had smeared along the side, thin lines from shallow cuts. "Barely. I've had worse… I think."
Ashen crouched beside him, inspecting the wounds. "You shouldn't ignore pain, even small wounds."
"Yeah, yeah. You always say that."
Ashen's hand hovered just above his arm, green light softly blooming around his palm. The warmth spread through Alaric's skin, closing the cuts instantly. The sting disappeared, replaced by a deep, comforting calm.
"Better?"
Alaric shrugged. "You're like a one-man hospital, you know that?"
Ashen didn't answer, though his expression softened for a brief second.
The boy looked around at the ruined clearing, the broken branches and scorched soil. "Do you think this was all caused by corruption?"
"Yes," Ashen replied. "But not like before. This one… had intent."
"Intent," Alaric repeated, frowning. "Like it was alive?"
Ashen gave a faint nod. "Alive, or guided."
Alaric clicked his tongue. "Great. A forest that thinks. Just what I needed."
The undead didn't respond, but his gaze lingered on the trees — on the faint shimmer of mana that still pulsed between their roots.
After a few quiet moments, Ashen extended a hand. "We should return. You need rest."
Alaric hesitated for only a second before gripping it. His small hand looked fragile compared to Ashen's, pale fingers disappearing into the larger, colder ones that pulled him gently upright.
The weight of exhaustion settled over him again. His legs ached, his lungs burned, but his mind was clearer now. The danger had passed.
For the moment.
As they walked out of the clearing, the last light of dusk faded through the trees. The forest felt like it was holding its breath again, watching them go.
The air changed when they reached the edge of the woods. The smell of woodsmoke drifted faintly through the wind — home.
The hidden village sat beyond the treeline, warm lights flickering through the gaps between huts. For a second, Alaric just stood there, staring at it.
"Looks… smaller than before," he muttered.
"Perspective," Ashen said softly.
Alaric shot him a tired grin. "Or maybe I'm just taller."
The faintest curve touched Ashen's lips — not quite a smile, but close enough that Alaric noticed.
They stepped out from the forest and into the open, the sound of their footsteps drawing the attention of the villagers nearby.
The first to spot them was Ryn.
"Alaric!"
The boy came running full speed down the dirt path, nearly tripping over his own boots. His brown hair was wind-tossed, his face bright with relief and annoyance at once.
"You're back! I thought you were dead!"
"Thanks for the confidence," Alaric said dryly. "I'm fine. Mostly."
"Mostly? You look like you rolled through a campfire."
"That's… actually accurate."
Before Alaric could react, Ryn punched him lightly on the shoulder. "That's for scaring everyone!"
"Hey!"
"And this—" Ryn punched the other shoulder, softer. "—is for coming back."
Alaric blinked, then smiled faintly. "You're weird."
"Takes one to know one."
Before their banter could continue, Kael appeared behind them, tall and stern as always. His hunting leathers were worn, his axe strapped across his back. His sharp eyes scanned Alaric from head to toe.
"You went out without backup again."
"I was improvising," Alaric said quickly.
"Improvising gets people killed."
"I'm not people," Alaric said. "I'm special."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You're grounded."
"I'm six!"
"Exactly."
Ryn snorted out a laugh.
Before Kael could lecture further, Ashen stepped forward. He carried a small wrapped bundle — the monster's corrupted core. "The source of the disturbance," he said simply.
Kael took it carefully. The cloth pulsed faintly beneath his hands, dark veins of mana swirling inside. He grimaced. "Still active."
Ashen nodded. "Stable enough for now. But it shouldn't be left near people for long."
An older man approached then — the Elder. His cane tapped softly against the ground as he walked. His gray eyes flicked between the two of them. "You brought it back?"
"Yes," Ashen said. "It was stronger than the last. Almost intelligent."
The Elder's expression darkened. "So the forest continues to twist."
Alaric rubbed the back of his neck. "That's… one way to put it."
"It's not over," Ashen added. "The energy we felt wasn't from that creature alone."
The Elder's hand tightened on his cane. "Then something else stirs beneath."
No one spoke for a moment. The faint sound of a blacksmith hammering echoed in the distance — a reminder that life still went on, even as fear hung over them.
Finally, the Elder sighed. "For now, we rest. You both did more than enough. The village is in your debt again."
Alaric grinned. "I'll take that debt in naps."
Ryn rolled his eyes. "You always do."
Kael actually chuckled, shaking his head. "Go eat something before you collapse, brat."
Alaric gave a mock salute. "Aye, Captain Serious."
Ashen inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, Kael."
The hunters slowly dispersed, murmuring thanks and awe under their breath. But not everyone looked comfortable — a few whispered about Alaric's magic, about the strange light that had torn through the forest.
He could feel their stares, but he didn't comment. He'd gotten used to it.
As the crowd faded, Ryn tugged on his cloak. "Come on. They're making stew again."
Alaric perked up. "Stew? Count me in."
Ashen followed quietly, his presence steady at Alaric's back. Even with the faint warmth of the village returning, the air between the trees behind them still felt… wrong.
That night, the village was alive again.
Lanterns hung from ropes strung between huts, swaying in the gentle breeze. The smell of cooked meat and herbs drifted through the air. Children laughed somewhere near the well.
It wasn't a grand feast — just a simple meal shared by people who'd survived another day.
Alaric sat near the edge of the gathering, a steaming bowl in his hands. He slouched against a log, his hair — snow white and messy — glowing faintly in the firelight. His golden eyes drooped halfway closed as he took a slow sip.
"Ahh… that's good. Tastes like not dying."
Ryn sat across from him, already halfway through his second bowl. "You say that after every fight."
"Because it keeps being true."
"You're weird."
"Still true."
Ryn laughed, shaking his head.
Ashen stood a short distance away, watching quietly as the villagers ate and talked. His black coat caught the lantern light, silver hair gleaming faintly. He didn't eat — couldn't — but he stayed close, his gaze soft whenever it drifted toward Alaric.
"You could at least sit down," Alaric called out without looking up.
"I'm comfortable here," Ashen replied.
"Standing like a statue?"
"Yes."
Alaric snorted. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
Despite the exchange, a faint warmth lingered between them — quiet, unspoken.
As the night stretched on, laughter and music filled the air. Kael was sitting with the older hunters, sharing stories about old battles. The Elder nodded off halfway through his bowl.
The peace felt strange after so much chaos.
Alaric leaned his head back and stared at the night sky. The stars shimmered faintly through the thin layer of clouds. "Feels weird," he murmured.
"What does?" Ryn asked.
"Everything being… still."
Ryn paused, then shrugged. "You get used to it."
"Yeah." Alaric smiled faintly. "I hope so."
His eyes wandered back toward the forest. The treeline swayed in the distance, dark and silent. But for a moment — just a brief second — he thought he saw something shift.
A faint pulse rippled through the air, brushing against his mana. Not dangerous… but watchful.
He froze.
Ashen noticed immediately. "You sensed it again."
Alaric nodded. "Yeah. It's faint, but it's there. The forest isn't done with us."
Ashen's voice lowered, calm but serious. "Then we'll be ready."
Alaric sighed and smirked faintly. "You always say that. You never say, 'let's just run away.'"
"I would," Ashen said. "If you'd let me."
"Heh. Fair enough."
Ryn leaned closer, confused. "You two are weird."
"We get that a lot," Alaric said.
The music picked up again — off-key but cheerful. Kids danced around the fire, their shadows flickering across the dirt. The light reached just far enough to brush the edge of the forest — and then faded into black.
Alaric's eyelids grew heavy. The warmth of food and the steady hum of voices dulled the ache in his muscles. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt… safe.
He let his eyes close.
Ashen stayed beside him, silent as ever. The faintest smile ghosted his lips — soft, fleeting, almost human. His hand hovered briefly over Alaric's head, brushing aside a lock of white hair before falling back to his side.
The night deepened. The forest loomed beyond the village walls, ancient and alive.
Somewhere in the dark, the roots shifted — not from wind, but from movement. A low hum rippled through the ground, unnoticed beneath the laughter of the village.
The storm had passed.
But its echo still lingered, waiting.