I woke up sitting on a horse.
For a moment, my mind couldn't make sense of it—the gentle rocking motion, the smell of leather and sweat, the rhythmic clop of hooves against dirt. When I looked down at my hands. They were small, delicate—hands of a child.
There was no mirror, no reflection in sight, but I could tell this body wasn't the one I remembered.
Ahead of me, a wooden cart rolled along the forest trail. It looked more like a caravan meant for cargo than passengers—sturdy, reinforced, and tightly covered. On one side, a small hole had been cut into the wooden panel, maybe to let air in.
It was the first thing that caught my attention, and curiosity got the better of me. I leaned forward and peered through the opening. Inside, faint glimmers of metal flickered in the darkness—bars. A cage. Something was locked inside.
I couldn't see what it was; the interior was swallowed by shadow. Whatever it was, it was being kept secure—and hidden.
I turned my gaze elsewhere, taking in my surroundings. To my left, a few men walked beside their horses, swords strapped to their hips. They wore dull metal armor that looked worn but well-kept. On each breastplate, I noticed the same symbol—a small flower engraved into the metal.
Out of instinct, I looked down at my own Garment. A similar design was sewn across my chest, though much larger and done in thick black thread.
So… I was part of their group?
When I glanced behind, I saw another caravan following the same path. Two wagons, front and back—an escort formation. We weren't traveling alone. Whatever they were transporting, it was important enough to guard heavily.
The forest closed in on both sides, trees pressing tight, their branches weaving a ceiling overhead. The light came through in broken patterns, gold and green scattered across the path. The air felt thick, heavy with humidity—and silence.
I didn't know my name.
I didn't know who these people were.
I didn't even know what my relationship with them was.
But I knew one thing—I had to figure out what we were doing here, where we were headed, and why.
Those were the questions that mattered now.
I cleared my throat and spoke to the guards walking beside me.
"I'm feeling a bit… drowsy. Can we take a break for a while?"
One of them turned, glaring at me like I'd grown two heads.
"Are you out of your mind, kid? Who in their right senses stops in the middle of this damned forest?" He spat to the side, his tone sharp and impatient. "You might be the Daimyo's nephew, but even then, don't push your luck. We're not here to babysit. Sit tight and stop whining."
I blinked, taken aback.
Well, that told me a few things.
First, we were traveling through a dangerous place—judging by his tone, stopping was out of the question.
Second, I was apparently the Daimyo's nephew, which explained the "special treatment."
Third… the guard clearly wasn't afraid of me, meaning whatever authority I had was purely symbolic.
I was about to ask another question when—
Thud!
Something struck the horse beneath me.
Pain flashed across my arm as I was thrown off violently, the world spinning as I hit the ground hard. The fall bruised my left elbow, the shock rattling my chest. I groaned and turned to see what had hit us—
And froze.
The horse was already half gone, its body swallowed by something that looked alive yet not. A writhing lump of red bristles and muscle, fused together in a grotesque tangle, pulsing as if breathing. It wasn't a beast I recognized. It was like a living wound—raw, shifting, mindless.
The forest erupted in chaos.
A few guards broke from formation and rushed toward me—not to help, but with swords drawn, their blades catching the light as they leveled them straight at my neck.