The bodies stank.
Even in death, the Chitterkin reeked of sap and rot, their cracked husks leaking black resin that hissed when it touched the glowing veins of the forest floor. The ground seemed to reject them, roots pulling back as if unwilling to drink their corrupted remains.
Kael sat in the middle of it all, slumped against his staff, each breath tearing like knives through his ribs. His body felt hollow, as though part of him had been carved out and left in the corpses. The silence was worse than the fight—the forest had gone still again, as if holding its breath, waiting for something.
The System spoke, calm as ever:
> [Energy Reserves: 8%. Warning: continued strain will result in collapse. Recommendation: Retreat and Recovery.]
"Retreat?" Kael rasped. His voice sounded alien, dry as ash. "And go where? This forest doesn't let anyone leave."
The glowing veins beneath him pulsed faintly, and for a moment he swore he heard a reply—like words unspoken, rising from the earth itself. Not the Veil. Not the System. Something older.
His skin crawled.
Shoving himself upright, Kael staggered to his feet. His body screamed at him to rest, but he knew staying beside the corpses was an invitation for predators—or worse. The forest had rules, and it was beginning to teach him one: nothing here stayed dead for long.
He gripped his staff tighter, forcing his steps forward. The alcove of roots receded behind him as he limped deeper into the glowing wood.
---
Hours—or perhaps minutes, time blurred—passed before he stumbled upon water.
A thin stream wound through the trees, glowing faintly where veins of light seeped into it. The water shimmered like liquid moonlight, too beautiful to be natural, too tempting to be safe.
Kael crouched at the edge, staring at his reflection.
For a heartbeat, it was him—gaunt face, blood smeared across jaw and cheek, black veins still faintly visible beneath skin.
Then the reflection blinked.
His real eyes hadn't moved.
The figure in the water smiled, lips curling upward in a slow, deliberate mockery.
"You grow stronger," it whispered, though no sound stirred the air. The words were inside his skull, soft as a knife's kiss. "But strength has a price."
Kael's hands trembled. He wanted to smash the water, to scatter the reflection into ripples, but his body refused. His reflection leaned closer, eyes gleaming with a hunger that was not his.
"Drink," it said. "And the forest will open to you."
The whispers of the Veil stirred eagerly in response, overlapping, coaxing, demanding.
Yes. Drink. Claim it. You are already ours.
Kael squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the pull. "Shut up," he hissed. "All of you."
When he opened them again, the reflection was gone. The water was just water—still glowing faintly, still beautiful, but empty.
He didn't drink. He couldn't.
Instead, he dipped his bloodied hands in the stream, washing away grime and resin. The cold bit deep, steadying him. For the first time since the fight, he felt his breath slow, his mind clearing—if only slightly.
But the veins in the water glowed brighter where his blood touched, spreading outward like roots reaching for a seed.
Kael ripped his hands back, heart hammering. "This place is wrong," he muttered. "Every inch of it."
The System pulsed again:
> [Unidentified anomaly detected. Energy resonance increasing. Prolonged exposure not advised.]
He stood quickly, forcing himself away from the stream before the temptation returned. His body was still weak, each step a struggle, but movement was survival. And survival was the only victory he could still claim.
---
The forest changed as he walked.
The veins grew brighter, not beneath the ground now but weaving through the air like strands of luminescent silk. They formed patterns overhead, shifting as though alive, humming with energy that made Kael's teeth ache. Shadows bent strangely here, stretching longer than they should, curling toward him when his back was turned.
The weight of unseen eyes pressed on him.
At last he emerged into a clearing unlike any he had seen before.
At its center rose a monolith—a jagged shard of obsidian, taller than a tower, its surface etched with runes that burned faint silver. Veins from the forest floor converged at its base, feeding into it, pulsing like blood into a heart. The air around it thrummed, alive, thick with power.
Kael froze.
He had never seen it before, yet something deep inside him recognized it instantly. His veins burned in response, the whispers surging with feverish hunger.
The Veinspire. The anchor. Ours.
Kael dropped to one knee, clutching his skull. His heart hammered wildly, each beat syncing with the monolith's pulse until it felt like he was part of it. Images flooded his mind—armies kneeling before the stone, shadows rising from its core, chains of light shattering beneath its scream.
The System struggled to cut through the noise:
> [Warning: exposure to Veinspire will accelerate corruption. Immediate retreat required.]
But retreat wasn't an option. His body wouldn't move. His blood sang with it, pulled toward the shard like metal to a magnet.
He staggered forward, unwilling yet unable to resist.
The runes burned brighter as he approached, and he swore he heard voices—not whispers this time, but cries. Screams of battle, of pain, of endless cycles of death. The monolith was a grave and a beacon both, a wound carved into the world.
Kael raised a trembling hand, fingers inches from the stone. The air around it crackled, energy snapping against his skin.
Then—
A voice cut through the haze. Human.
"Step away from it."
Kael froze.
From the treeline, a figure emerged. Cloaked, hood drawn low, a glimmer of steel visible beneath. Their voice was sharp, controlled, every syllable laced with warning.
"I said step away," they repeated.
Kael's instincts screamed at him—this was no forest beast, no illusion. A human. Another survivor. Or a hunter.
Slowly, Kael forced his gaze from the Veinspire. His chest burned, his veins still thrumming, but he managed a rasp of words.
"Who… are you?"
The figure didn't answer. They drew closer, one hand resting on the hilt of their blade, eyes fixed on him with unreadable intent.
"Whatever you think you heard," the stranger said, "whatever it promised you—ignore it. That stone is not salvation. It's a curse. Touch it, and you won't come back."
Kael almost laughed, though it came out broken. "And what makes you think I haven't already gone too far?"
The stranger's gaze flickered to the black veins still faintly crawling up Kael's arm. Their jaw tightened.
"Then maybe," they said quietly, "I should kill you before you finish turning."
The words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.
Kael tightened his grip on his staff, every muscle screaming with exhaustion but ready, if only barely.
The forest pulsed around them, the Veinspire glowing brighter, as if eager to see which of them would fall first.
---