Morning came quietly.
The fog hung low over the village, thin ribbons of silver curling through the air. Dew clung to the grass and rooftops, glittering faintly under the pale sunlight. The smell of damp wood and burning firewood filled the stillness.
For once, it felt calm.
Alaric stirred in his bedroll, groaning as sunlight touched his face. His white hair was a mess again, sticking in every direction. He yawned loudly, pulling the blanket back over his head.
"…Five more minutes…"
"Morning," Ashen's voice greeted, too steady for this early hour.
"Ugh. You sound too awake," Alaric mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket. "Go back to sleep."
"I don't sleep."
"Then pretend you do."
Ashen's soft exhale might've been a sigh. "You have training today."
Alaric peeked out from the blanket with one golden eye, expression flat. "Kael's training or yours?"
"Both."
He flopped back into the bedroll dramatically. "Then no."
The undead butler crouched beside him, his long coat brushing against the floor. "Avoiding your duties won't make you stronger."
"Yeah, but it makes me happier."
"Temporarily."
"Still counts."
Ashen gave him a long, unamused look — the kind that didn't need words to say get up.
Alaric groaned again, rolling to his side. "Fine, fine. I'm up. You're worse than an alarm clock."
Ashen straightened. "You'd sleep through one."
"That's slander," Alaric muttered, stretching as he sat up. His joints popped audibly. "Ow. Okay, maybe not entirely."
He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. Despite his lazy complaints, there was a faint smile on his lips. Mornings like this were rare — quiet, safe, normal.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken without fear biting at the back of his mind.
Ashen set down a bowl beside him — warm broth with bread soaked inside. The smell was simple but comforting.
"Eat first," Ashen said.
Alaric blinked. "Wait… you cooked this?"
"I prepared it," Ashen corrected.
Alaric sniffed the bowl suspiciously. "You didn't use monster parts again, right?"
The undead tilted his head slightly. "You've never been harmed by my meals."
"That's not an answer!"
Still, the boy took a cautious sip — then another. "Huh. Tastes… normal. Kind of good, actually."
Ashen said nothing, but a faint flicker of satisfaction passed his eyes.
After finishing breakfast (and a short nap he snuck in right after), Alaric finally dragged himself outside.
The village was already awake. Hunters carried bundles of furs to the sheds, women hauled buckets of water, and kids chased each other near the well. Smoke from the cookfires rose lazily into the pale blue sky.
Everything looked ordinary.
But underneath the hum of life, Alaric could feel it — a faint pulse, deep and steady. It thrummed at the edge of his senses, too quiet to hear, too real to ignore.
"…You feel it too, right?" he asked.
Ashen, walking beside him, nodded. "Yes. The forest is restless."
"Restless," Alaric repeated, rubbing his arm. "It's not angry?"
"Not yet. But it's… moving."
He frowned. "Trees aren't supposed to move."
"Neither are the dead," Ashen said calmly.
Alaric sighed. "Touché."
They walked through the village toward the training field — a clearing near the outer edge, marked by worn stumps and practice dummies. Kael was already there, sharpening his blade.
"You're late," Kael said without looking up.
"I was spiritually preparing myself," Alaric replied.
"You were sleeping."
"…That too."
Ryn waved from where he stood near the targets. "Hey, sleepyhead! You ready to lose again?"
Alaric groaned. "Why do you sound so happy about it?"
"Because I'm finally faster than you!" Ryn said proudly.
"That's not an achievement," Alaric muttered. "That's just gravity being unfair."
Kael clapped his hands once. "Enough talking. Warm up."
"Yes, sir," both boys said in unison.
They started their drills. Ryn's movements were sharp, steady — a hunter's rhythm. Alaric's, meanwhile, were precise but sluggish, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Ashen stood under a nearby tree, watching silently. His eyes never left Alaric — always ready, always measuring.
Halfway through practice, Alaric's hand froze mid-swing.
That feeling again — the pulse. Stronger this time, running through the earth beneath his feet like a heartbeat. His staff vibrated faintly, reacting.
"Alaric?" Ryn called out. "You okay?"
He blinked, shaking off the dizziness. "Yeah. Just… thought I felt something."
Kael frowned. "Focus. If you're too tired to train, you shouldn't have come."
"I'm fine," Alaric said quickly, straightening up. "Just… fine."
But his gaze drifted toward the forest edge again. The trees swayed slightly, though there was no wind.
He couldn't shake the feeling — something was calling. Not words, not sound. Just… awareness.
Like the forest was breathing.
Ashen's gaze followed his, expression unreadable.
Whatever peace they'd earned after the last battle was thinning — slowly, silently.
And Alaric could already tell it wouldn't last much longer.
By midday, the training had ended.
Ryn was already lying flat on the grass, panting and laughing at the same time. "Okay… I'm done. My arms are officially noodles."
Kael gave a short nod of approval. "At least you're consistent."
Ryn grinned, still sprawled on the ground. "Consistency's a skill!"
Alaric sat on a nearby stump, twirling his staff lazily. He wasn't nearly as tired as Ryn, but his focus kept drifting. That pulse in the air hadn't gone away. If anything, it was getting louder — like a heartbeat echoing beneath the surface of the world.
He tried to ignore it, but his mana responded every time. Life and death intertwined, tugging at his chest like invisible threads.
"Alaric."
He blinked. Kael was watching him.
"You've been spacing out all morning."
"Sorry," Alaric said. "Just thinking."
"About?"
He hesitated. He couldn't exactly say the forest is whispering to me again.
"Nothing important," he said instead. "Just hungry."
Kael sighed. "At least that's believable."
Ryn laughed weakly from the ground. "That's the Alaric I know."
Kael's gaze lingered on him a moment longer before turning away. "Fine. Take the afternoon off. You've both earned it."
Alaric didn't argue — he was already on his feet. "Best words I've heard all day."
"Of course," Ryn muttered. "You barely trained."
"Work smarter, not harder," Alaric said, grinning.
He left the training field, Ashen silently falling into step beside him. They walked through the quiet path leading toward the forest's edge. Birds fluttered overhead, their cries sharp and distant.
After a while, Alaric spoke. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Ashen nodded once. "The pulse hasn't faded. It's stronger near the western ridge."
"Then we're going there, aren't we?"
"You should rest."
Alaric glanced up at him, smirking. "You already know I won't."
"Unfortunately," Ashen replied.
They followed the dirt trail leading deeper into the forest. The air grew cooler, heavier. Shafts of sunlight cut through the leaves, casting gold and green patterns across the moss-covered ground.
It should've been peaceful — but it wasn't.
The forest hummed faintly with mana. Leaves rustled when there was no wind. The soil pulsed underfoot, faint but steady.
Alaric knelt down and pressed his hand against the ground. The pulse throbbed beneath his palm like a living vein.
"It's not just mana," he murmured. "It's… rhythm. Like a heartbeat."
Ashen crouched beside him, eyes narrowing. "It's connected to the corruption we fought."
Alaric looked up. "You mean this whole forest is—"
"Alive," Ashen finished softly. "It always was. But something is making it stir."
A chill ran through Alaric's spine. "That's… not comforting."
Ashen's gaze turned toward the deeper woods. "Stay close."
"I wasn't planning to wander off," Alaric said — though he tightened his grip on the staff anyway.
They moved cautiously. The deeper they went, the stranger it became.
Vines curled unnaturally around tree trunks, tightening like muscles. Fungi glowed faintly, pulsing with each tremor beneath the soil. A stream they passed shimmered with green light, its water unnaturally clear — and quiet. Too quiet.
No birds. No insects. Just breathing.
"This is worse than last time," Alaric muttered.
"Yes," Ashen said. "Last time, the corruption spread from a single beast. This… spreads from the land itself."
Alaric frowned. "Can you sense where it's strongest?"
Ashen paused, closing his eyes. For a moment, the air around him went still. The faint silver aura that sometimes flickered from his skin glowed softly.
Finally, he pointed ahead. "That direction. Near the hollow ridge."
Alaric exhaled. "Of course it's always the creepy-sounding places."
"Would you prefer I lie?"
"Yes!"
The faintest twitch of Ashen's mouth betrayed amusement.
They kept walking. The light dimmed as the trees grew denser, branches forming an interlocking canopy that blocked out the sun. The air thickened, damp and cold.
Eventually, they reached a wide clearing — or what used to be one.
The ground was cracked and uneven, split open like the surface had been torn apart from beneath. A low mist rolled across it, glowing faintly green. At the center stood what looked like a tree — massive, ancient, its roots coiling outward like serpents.
But the trunk was wrong. It pulsed.
Its bark was split with deep lines that glowed faintly with mana — the same gold-and-gray hue as Alaric's magic.
Ashen stopped beside him, expression unreadable. "This is new."
"Yeah," Alaric said softly. "And it's breathing."
They watched in silence as the trunk expanded and contracted, a slow rhythm that echoed the pulse beneath their feet.
"It's like the whole forest is alive," Alaric whispered. "But… why does it feel familiar?"
Ashen's gaze flicked toward him. "Because it's responding to you."
Alaric blinked. "Wait— what?"
"Your mana resonates with both life and death. The forest holds both. It's reacting."
"Reacting how? Because if this turns into another giant monster, I'm not emotionally ready."
"Not yet," Ashen said simply.
"Not yet?! That's not reassuring!"
The undead said nothing more, but his hand subtly rested on his sword.
The forest around them shifted again. The mist thickened, swirling slowly. Faint whispers drifted through the air — not words, just vibrations. The same rhythm pulsed deeper now, like something buried far below was waking up.
Alaric's breath hitched. The energy pressed against his senses, familiar yet wild — like the same magic that had once filled the ruins they called home.
This wasn't corruption. It was something older.
And it was watching them.
The mist thickened.
It wrapped around their legs like cold breath, swirling upward until the trees themselves faded from sight. The forest's pulse grew louder — steady, heavy, and wrong. Every beat made the ground tremble slightly beneath Alaric's boots.
He tightened his grip on his staff. "Okay. This place officially crossed the line from creepy to haunted heart attack."
Ashen's voice came quiet but firm. "Stay close."
He didn't need to be told twice.
The tree in the center began to glow more brightly, its trunk shuddering with every pulse. The roots shifted, tearing through the dirt as if something below was struggling to surface.
Alaric took a step back. "Yeah, that's moving. Definitely moving."
The cracks spread, forming glowing lines in the ground. From them, bursts of green light shot upward like veins of fire. The earth moaned — an eerie, deep sound that rattled through the air.
"Ashen," Alaric said, voice shaking despite his attempt at humor, "you're seeing this, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. Because if this is just me, I'd like to know before I pass out."
Ashen reached out, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Focus your mana. Keep your balance."
Alaric nodded, pulling the twin forces inside him together — the warmth of life and the chill of death. They danced wildly, pushing against each other. He tried to control them, but the forest's heartbeat kept tugging, trying to sync with his own.
The air suddenly split with a low, grinding noise. One of the roots tore free completely, snapping upward like a whip.
"Move!"
Ashen grabbed Alaric and leapt back just as the root smashed into the ground where they'd stood. Dirt and splinters erupted, scattering into the mist.
The undead landed lightly, his grip firm but gentle as he set the boy down behind him.
"Still not a monster?" Alaric panted.
"Not yet," Ashen said again, drawing his sword. The blade gleamed in the dim light — old, worn, but sharp enough to cut through stone.
The roots moved again, twisting and writhing, but they didn't strike this time. Instead, they formed a circle — enclosing the clearing like bars of a cage.
From the gaps in the ground, green light poured upward, swirling together into the shape of a figure — faint at first, then clearer with each pulse.
It wasn't solid. It looked like smoke given form — a tall shape with no face, just a faint glow where eyes might have been. Its body rippled, part shadow, part mist.
Alaric's eyes widened. "That's… new."
The figure tilted its head slightly, the movement slow and eerie. When it spoke, the voice wasn't a sound — it was a vibration that echoed inside their skulls.
"Child of the cycle…"
Alaric froze. "Did it just— did you hear that?"
Ashen didn't answer, but his stance shifted — protective, ready to strike.
The voice came again, soft but heavy. "You disturb the balance. You wake what should sleep."
"I wasn't even doing anything!" Alaric snapped. "I was literally taking a walk!"
Ashen's sword gleamed brighter, cutting through the mist. "It's not speaking in anger. It's bound to the flow of the forest."
"Yeah, well, the flow's trying to kill me right now!"
The figure's shape flickered, bending as if listening. "Two energies… in one vessel. The forest remembers that light."
Alaric's breath hitched. His fingers tightened around the staff. "What… what are you talking about?"
The glow inside the figure's chest pulsed once — slow and deliberate. "The ruin… the temple… you carry its echo."
Alaric blinked. "The temple?"
Before he could ask more, the light suddenly flared. The ground convulsed, the roots surging again. This time, they didn't lash out — they grew. Thick vines burst upward, wrapping around the ancient tree's trunk, glowing with both green and gray light.
The mist turned gold and silver, spiraling upward like smoke.
Ashen stepped in front of Alaric again, his aura flaring — cold, silver-gray, cutting through the distortion like a blade.
"Stay behind me," he said.
Alaric frowned. "No. If it's reacting to me, maybe I can stop it."
"That's dangerous."
"When isn't it?"
The boy took a deep breath, stepping forward. The air was so thick with mana it made his hair rise. His heartbeat pounded in his ears — syncing with the forest's rhythm.
He raised his staff, letting the energy flow through him — not to fight, but to connect.
"Alright… let's see if this works."
He reached inward, pulling both forces at once — the life that healed and the death that still lingered. They spiraled around him, bright and dark, wrapping around his small frame in shimmering waves.
The light around the tree flickered in response. The rhythm faltered, just slightly.
The figure tilted its head again, its faceless gaze settling on him. "You would… touch the cycle?"
Alaric gritted his teeth. "I don't want to destroy you. I just want you to stop shaking the forest!"
The ground rumbled again, harder this time. The pulse spiked. Alaric's knees buckled as the mana surged through his body, raw and overwhelming.
"Alaric!"
Ashen's voice cut through the roar. He reached out, grabbing Alaric's arm to steady him, but the contact made something click.
Their mana connected — life and death overlapping, feeding into each other perfectly. For a heartbeat, the entire clearing froze.
Then — light.
Blinding white-gold and silver-gray burst from them both, cutting through the mist, washing over the tree and the roots. The glowing cracks across the ground dimmed. The air stilled.
When the light faded, the forest was quiet again.
The mist drifted away slowly, leaving only the gentle rustle of leaves. The massive tree still stood, but its glow had faded to a faint, calm shimmer. The figure was gone.
Alaric slumped forward, breathing heavily. "That… that worked?"
Ashen caught him before he hit the ground, steadying him. "It did. For now."
"For now," Alaric muttered weakly. "I hate those words."
Ashen looked around, scanning for movement. Nothing. Just calm. "The forest has settled. Whatever force was stirring has returned to rest."
Alaric leaned against him, his staff clutched loosely in one hand. "It said something about the temple. That I… carry its echo. What does that even mean?"
"I don't know yet," Ashen said softly. "But the forest remembers you."
"Yeah, well, let's hope it forgets me next time."
Despite his exhaustion, Alaric managed a small laugh. It came out half-dazed, half-relieved.
Ashen didn't answer, but his gloved hand rested lightly on the boy's shoulder, the gesture subtle but steady.
They stood there for a long time, watching the faint light flicker across the tree's bark. The forest no longer breathed like a monster — it exhaled, slow and peaceful, like a world returning to sleep.
Finally, Alaric pushed himself upright. "Let's go back before the others think we got eaten."
Ashen nodded. "Agreed."
As they turned to leave, Alaric glanced over his shoulder one last time. The tree stood silently, mist curling around its roots like faint smoke.
For a moment, he thought he saw eyes in the bark — watching him. Not hostile. Just aware.
"See you later, creepy tree," he muttered under his breath.
Ashen's gaze flicked toward him. "What did you say?"
"Nothing."
The undead said nothing more, but the faintest ghost of a smile touched his lips as they disappeared into the fading light.
Behind them, the forest sighed — alive, patient, and waiting.