The Spinewood no longer felt like a living forest.
It felt like a dying creature—vast, ancient, and struggling to breathe through a crushed lung. Every step Zerrei took sent a pulse of pain through the ground, the moss underfoot trembling with each stride as though the roots themselves were flinching away from contact.
Behind them, the Creator's presence lingered.
He did not follow—
yet the world bent subtly in the direction he stood, as though reluctant to let him go.
Zerrei couldn't shake the sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.
Not physical eyes.
Resonance.
Recognition.
Expectation.
He is watching how I run, Zerrei realized.
And that frightened him more than the idea of being captured.
"Zerrei," Lyra said firmly, gripping his hand without hesitation. "Focus ahead. Not behind."
He tried.
He truly did.
But his Heartglow throbbed erratically, still shaken from the Creator's words—the ones about dependency, direction, incompletion. Words that struck places Zerrei wasn't yet sure he had healed.
His chest burned.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Arcane-ly.
He touched the golden-thread mark, feeling warmth flicker under his palm.
"The forest calls us forward," he whispered. "It's… weaker now, but still there."
Oren, running with one hand over a glowing sigil that stabilized their footing, nodded breathlessly. "We must reach the next stable mana pocket before the forest collapses under his influence."
Arden panted heavily behind him. "I really—I really—hate running away from a god-tier maniac who breaks the sky by stepping!"
"He's not a god," Lyra snapped.
"WELL HE'S DOING A GREAT IMPRESSION!"
Lyra didn't waste breath answering. She guided Zerrei up a steep incline where roots curled like frozen waves.
Vessel Five moved ahead, clearing the path.
Its frame trembled occasionally—brief spasms from the earlier override attempt—but each time its core dimmed, Zerrei felt his own Heartglow respond, steadying the hunter just enough.
"…Zerrei…" Vessel Five murmured, "…proximity stabilizes…"
Zerrei touched its arm. "And you stabilize me."
"…mirrored… resonance…"
Oren glanced at them urgently. "This is an emerging mutual mana-feedback loop—if one destabilizes too sharply, the other—"
"DON'T finish that sentence!" Arden barked. "Just tell us HOW TO NOT DESTABILIZE!"
"By not letting the Creator catch us," Oren said bluntly.
Arden groaned. "I regret asking."
The slope finally leveled out—only to reveal a landscape Zerrei had never seen before.
The forest ahead was nearly unrecognizable.
Trees wilted in unnatural angles.
The Pulse was faint—almost a ghost of its former rhythm.
Mana floated through the air like dust motes shaken loose from something ancient and brittle.
Zerrei stopped walking.
Lyra skidded to a halt beside him. "Zerrei—what is it?"
He pointed at the horizon.
Where the Heartwood's gentle glow had once been strong—
a swirling vortex of silver-blue light now churned violently.
"I've never seen the forest breathe like that."
Oren squinted through the haze. "That's not breathing. That's collapsing."
Arden cursed under his breath. "Fantastic. The forest is dying AND we're running toward the epicenter."
Zerrei hugged himself, feeling the Pulse falter again inside him. "It wants me there."
Lyra stepped in front of him, forcing his gaze up.
"You'll go. But not alone."
He swallowed. "Always with me."
She nodded. "Always with you."
Another tremor deepened beneath their feet—one that made the entire forest groan like a great beast dragging itself across stone.
Zerrei winced. "The Creator… he moved."
Oren's eyes widened. "Distance?"
Zerrei shook his head. "Not far enough."
Behind them, the dead zone shifted.
Not from steps.
Not from magic.
From presence.
As if the Creator had tilted his head slightly in their direction.
Lyra grabbed Zerrei. "Move. Now."
They ran again—this time through a corridor of trees that bent inward to shelter them from falling debris. The forest wasn't dead here—just gasping.
Roots held the earth together.
Branches interlocked above like shields.
Golden motes still drifted in thin trails, guiding Zerrei forward.
But even these lights trembled, flickering as though struggling to stay alive.
"Zerrei!" Oren called from behind. "What do they mean?"
He slowed his pace, reaching toward one of the faint lights.
"They're Breathpaths," Zerrei said softly. "Strands of mana where the forest is still alive."
Arden pointed wildly. "YOU CAN SEE THE FOREST'S BREATH?!"
"Yes," Zerrei answered quietly. "And it's fading."
The path narrowed sharply—as if the forest struggled to maintain even this small corridor. Vessel Five forced its way through ahead, ripping aside limp branches.
"…Zerrei… hurry…"
Zerrei nodded and sprinted.
But the deeper they went, the stronger the Pulse became—not steady, but frantic.
Arden pounded the ground with each heavy step. "WHY IS EVERYTHING GLOWING FASTER—"
Oren answered through ragged breaths, "Because the breach is expanding—AGAIN—he's opening additional spatial cracks—the forest is trying to seal each one and FAILING—"
"STOP MAKING THIS SOUND WORSE!" Arden bellowed.
"It IS worse!"
Lyra barked, "Quiet! Zerrei—what do you feel?"
He slowed for a split second, pressing both hands over the golden-thread mark.
"It's calling me toward—"
He froze.
Lyra's breath caught. "Zerrei?"
Arden crashed into Oren behind him. Vessel Five instantly stepped in front of Zerrei, claws extended.
Zerrei lifted his gaze.
Ahead of them—
the forest parted.
Not naturally.
Like something had slashed reality open
and dragged the forest aside.
A wide corridor cut through the trees, glowing silver-blue and lined with fractured bark. The air shimmered like heat haze—and in the center of the path lay something Zerrei never expected to see.
A slanted mark in the ground—
carved in a perfect, circular shape.
Inlaid with runes he recognized instantly.
His chest tightened.
"Lyra…" Zerrei whispered, stepping slowly toward it.
Lyra held him firmly by the shoulder. "What do you see?"
"It's a… resonance circle."
Arden blinked. "A what?"
"The place where he built vessels."
Oren froze. "You mean this… this is one of his old creation chambers?"
"No," Zerrei said softly. "This is where he started drawing the first patterns for Vessel Three. The forest swallowed it long ago. But now…"
He knelt beside the half-erased circle.
"…it's waking again."
Golden motes drifted around him, merging with faint blue runes still etched into the soil.
Zerrei touched one of the runes.
His hand burned with split sensations:
Cold metal instruments.
Arcane ink.
The Creator's voice shaping commands into form.
Mana flowing through carvings that trembled like newborn things.
He gasped and pulled his hand back as if burned. "It's still alive. The memory."
Lyra knelt beside him. "Can you understand it? Or does it hurt?"
"A little of both."
Oren crouched as well. "This is… astonishing. The forest preserved the remnants of his work—absorbed it—hid it—until his return destabilized everything."
Arden scratched his head. "Okay, but WHY is this important NOW?"
Zerrei stared at the circle, heart hammering.
"Because the forest is trying to complete what was left unfinished."
Lyra's eyes darted to him. "Complete what?"
Zerrei looked up—
and for a moment, he didn't feel fear.
He felt a strange, aching clarity.
"I think the forest is trying to guide me to a place where I choose who I become. Entirely. Without him. Without directive. Without broken identity."
Oren's breath caught. Arden stared blankly. Vessel Five trembled.
"…Zerrei… identity… stabilize…"
Zerrei touched Vessel Five's arm. "It wants you there too."
Vessel Five froze.
"…me…?"
"The forest accepted us both," Zerrei said. "Even if it didn't understand you at first. Now it does. Or… it tries."
Lyra placed a firm hand on both of them. "We go together."
Arden nodded vigorously. "Even if the world explodes."
Oren moaned. "Preferably not exploding—"
Then the ground shook violently.
A boom echoed through the forest—
not like thunder,
not like falling trees—
A FOOTSTEP.
Not the Creator's silent steps.
Something physical.
Massive.
Pressing against reality itself.
The group froze.
Lyra raised her sword. "Zerrei—direction."
He pressed both hands to the ground.
A faint pulse answered—
—not behind them.
Not at the Creation Circle.
Ahead.
Zerrei lifted his head.
"He's not chasing us," he whispered. "He's cutting us off."
Arden threw his arms up. "HE'S SPEEDRUNNING REALITY. AMAZING."
Oren hissed, "Arden. Please. Not now."
Vessel Five stepped closer to Zerrei, posture rigid.
"…Creator… proximity… extreme…"
Lyra grabbed Zerrei's hand. "We push forward. Into the breathing path. Before the entire forest collapses."
They sprinted again—
past the Creation Circle,
into the narrowing corridor of trembling roots and flickering motes.
Every step grew lighter for Zerrei.
Not easier.
But guided.
"I can feel the Heartwood," he gasped. "It's distant. But not gone."
"Good," Lyra breathed. "We run until we find stable ground."
But as they ran, the forest trembled again—
not from collapse—
but from something else.
A sound like stone cracking.
A sound like reality splitting.
A sound like a second footstep.
Arden screeched, "HOW IS HE THIS FAST?!"
"He's not," Zerrei whispered, heart pounding. "He's not stepping toward us."
Lyra slowed, tightening her grip on her blade. "Then what is he doing?"
Zerrei swallowed hard.
"He's shaping another breach ahead."
Oren's face drained of color. "Ahead?! Then—"
"He means to intercept us," Lyra finished.
Vessel Five roared—
"…Zerrei… BEHIND ME…"
The ground erupted in white light.
A new rift tore open just meters in front of them.
Zerrei skidded to a stop, eyes wide in horror.
The Creator's silhouette flickered inside the tear—
not fully formed,
but unmistakable.
Zerrei's breath stopped.
He got in front of us.
Lyra grabbed Zerrei, pulling him protectively behind her.
Arden raised his axe with a scream.
Oren threw up sigils that cracked under pressure before they even finished forming.
Vessel Five bolted toward the breach—
and stopped dead when Zerrei screamed:
"NO!"
Vessel Five slid to a halt, claws gouging the soil.
Zerrei took a shaky step forward.
The rift pulsed.
The Creator's voice slid through—not fully audible, but echoing like a thought:
"You run well.
Now show me how you fight."
The rift exploded outward—