Adrian ran until his legs trembled, until the burning in his lungs threatened to collapse him. But the forest had no mercy. Its pulse was constant, oppressive, like it could measure not only his steps but his fear, his hesitation, his very essence.
The eyes were everywhere now—glimmering in the darkness, shifting from branch to branch, from leaf to leaf. They weren't just watching; they were learning. Some narrowed, some widened, some blinked in patterns he couldn't decipher. Every glance made his skin crawl, made his heart hammer faster, made him question if he could survive what was coming.
He stumbled into a clearing. Moonlight—or what passed for it in this twisted world—fell in thin, pale ribbons through the canopy, illuminating a ring of stones. They were black, slick with moisture, etched with carvings that seemed older than time itself. Each symbol throbbed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with something beneath the ground, something enormous and alive.
Adrian knelt, brushing his fingers over the carvings. The moment his skin touched the stone, a shock ran through him—like electricity and ice combined. And again, that voice—different now, colder, sharper—echoed inside his mind:
> "Hunger detected. Rare Prey detected. Initiative required."
He yanked his hand back, coughing. The forest exhaled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the stones, through the earth, through his chest. He realized, with a shiver, that the forest itself knew him. Every heartbeat, every thought, every flicker of curiosity—it cataloged them all.
Something moved at the edge of the clearing. A figure, humanoid in shape, but too tall, too thin, its limbs bending unnaturally. Its head tilted, watching him, and in the dim light, Adrian glimpsed a mouth that stretched far too wide, a slit of teeth glinting as it smiled.
"Who… what are you?" he whispered, voice cracking.
No answer. Only the eyes. Hundreds of them, drifting in the shadows, blinking in time with the creature's slow steps.
And then it spoke—soft, almost tender, yet unbearably wrong.
> "Do you fear me?"
Adrian froze. His entire body screamed yes, yet something deeper stirred—a flicker of something he hadn't felt in months, maybe years: curiosity.
> "I… don't know," he admitted.
A laugh followed, low and liquid, like water over stones. The creature leaned forward, long fingers brushing the mossy ground.
> "Fear is a guide. Curiosity… a leash. You are marked, Rare Prey. You cannot leave. You will learn. You will adapt. Or…"
It trailed off. The eyes in the forest blinked in unison, and the air thickened, almost suffocating. Something moved beneath the roots—a tremor that wasn't the ground. Something large, too large, to ever be fully seen, shifted beneath the forest floor.
Adrian stumbled back, heart slamming. The creature smiled again, all wrong angles and glistening teeth. "Run," it whispered.
And he did.
The forest seemed to change behind him, the paths bending, the trees shifting subtly to guide him—or trap him. Branches grabbed at his clothes, roots lashed at his ankles, yet he sprinted, fueled by a mixture of fear and fascination. He was learning the rhythm now—listening to the exhalations, following the pulsing glow of fungi and stones, sensing where the forest wanted him to go.
A pool of water appeared suddenly before him, black and still. Its surface rippled, and for the first time, Adrian saw himself—not as he was, but reflected differently: thinner, paler, with shadows crawling under his skin like living ink. The image jerked, then smiled at him.
> "Do you understand yet?"
Adrian's throat went dry. He didn't know. He wanted to run, but he also wanted to stay. He wanted answers. And that was what the forest demanded—his will, his curiosity, his very essence.
He heard a distant roar, a sound that made the ground shake and the stones tremble. Something massive moved between the trees—far larger than any predator he had imagined. Its amber eyes glowed, fixed on him, and he understood in that instant: the chase had only just begun.
The forest was alive. It was hungry. It was teaching.
And Adrian Vale—lost, hollow, marked—was about to discover just how deep its lessons could go.