Corin had gotten used to living in the Hollow Forest.
It was quiet in ways the village never was—no shouting, no judgment, no eyes that flinched when they met his. The trees bent toward him like they remembered his name. The wind didn't ask questions. The forest didn't lie.
He was visiting Maer.
Her house sat low in the moss, stitched from bark and bone, half-swallowed by the forest. Smoke curled from the chimney like a whisper. He stepped through the doorway, brushing aside the hanging herbs.
And stopped.
Veyr was standing by the hearth.
Not seated. Not cloaked. Just waiting.
His antlers caught the firelight. His eyes—pale gold, ancient—locked onto Corin's.
"It's time," Veyr said.
Corin didn't move.
He knew what today was. Maer had warned him. The pact didn't stay quiet forever. Eventually, the forest asked for a decision.
Veyr stepped forward. "You've seen what they did. You've lived what they buried."
Corin's jaw tightened. "It wasn't the whole village."
"No," Veyr agreed. "But it was enough."
Corin looked down. His hands were steady, but his chest felt cracked open. He remembered the stones. The shed. The silence. He remembered being called monster before he even knew what the word meant.
"They were afraid," he said.
"They were cruel," Veyr replied.
Corin didn't argue.
He just stared at the fire.
"I don't want to hurt them," he said quietly. "I lived there. I played in the square. I knew their voices."
Veyr's gaze didn't soften. "And they knew yours. They chose silence."
Corin stepped back. "It wasn't all of them. It was the elders. The ones who twisted the pact. The ones who sent me here."
"And they still lead," Veyr said. "Still speak. Still shape the village in their image."
Corin's fists clenched. "I'm not ready to forgive them."
"Then don't," Veyr said. "But choose."
—
Maer entered quietly.
She didn't speak.
She just looked at Corin, then at Veyr, then at the fire.
"You don't have to destroy," she said. "But you do have to decide."
Corin turned to her. "What if I choose nothing?"
Maer's voice was steady. "Then the forest chooses for you."
—
Outside, the wind stirred.
The Hollow waited.
Not angry.
Not cruel.
Just awake.
Corin stepped toward the hearth.
He didn't speak.
He didn't cry.
He just whispered, "I'll make my choice tomorrow."
Veyr nodded once.
And vanished.