Ashfall loosened as evening settled in. Not all at once. The town didn't dim or quiet on command. It thinned. Noise softened at the edges, conversations breaking into smaller clusters instead of filling the streets whole. Lamps were lit deliberately, one by one, as if no one trusted them to do it automatically.
Kieran moved through it without urgency. The armor wasn't bad, it fit him without chaffing, weight unfamiliar but steady against his back and shoulders.
He passed a group of players near a notice board arguing about escort rates.
"—not worth the time unless it scales—"
"—NPC payout doesn't even cover repairs—"
An older NPC clerk waited patiently, stylus poised above parchment, expression neutral in a way that suggested he'd already won. Kieran didn't slow. Contracts would still be there tomorrow. He wouldn't.
The sunlight pressed faintly against him, a low-grade resistance he'd learned to stop noticing consciously. It wasn't pain. Not even discomfort, exactly. More like his body operating under a handbrake it hadn't asked for.
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Sunlight Exposure: Minor Suppression Active.
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He dismissed the notice as soon as it surfaced. It had become a rhythm now. Daylight dulled the edge. Shade gave it back. Neither was optional. Just variables to account for. What he couldn't dismiss as easily was the hollow tension beneath it.
A dull aching permeated his body as he walked. His bood reserve wasn't empty. Not yet. But it had been long enough since his last feeding that the absence had started to register—not as hunger, but as friction. A subtle drag on his focus. A faint impatience he didn't remember deciding to feel.
He paused near a stone well at the edge of a residential lane, resting one hand against the cool rim. NPCs passed without looking twice. A child laughed somewhere behind him. The sound pulled at something reflexive, sharp enough that he exhaled slowly and let it pass.
Background pressure, he reminded himself.
Ashfall's outer streets were quieter, the buildings lower and spaced farther apart. Trades here were practical—tanners, millers, storage sheds marked with chalk sigils instead of signage. A few players lingered, checking gear or waiting on party members who hadn't logged back in yet. One of them noticed Kieran and nudged the others.
"Hey," the man called, casual but not careless. "You heading out?"
Kieran slowed just enough to acknowledge him. "Eventually."
The player grinned. "We're short one for a perimeter sweep. Nothing heavy. Just checking a route before dark."
A sensible request. Low commitment. Easy XP. Kieran considered it longer than he needed to. "Why me?"
"You don't look like you panic."
Kieran let the silence hang long enough for the words to settle. "That's not a qualification."
"It is out there." The man gestured towards the forest. "People freeze up, or rush, or they run. Either way, it gets loud."
The want to feed appeared again. Not enough to impair judgment, but enough to make standing still near them feel taxing. He scanned the group automatically—three players, mixed gear, alert but untested. None of them were watching the forest line. All of them were watching each other.
That earned him a quiet breath that might have been amusement from Kieran. "Then you should find someone who enjoys noise."
The grin faltered, then returned, thinner. "Suit yourself."
Kieran inclined his head and continued on.
The last guard post sat near the edge of town, two NPCs leaning against the stonework with the casual alertness of people who'd learned where violence actually happened. One of them straightened as Kieran approached.
"Evening," the guard said.
"Evening."
"You heading past the markers?"
"Yes."
The guard nodded, not stopping him. "Road's clear for now. Doesn't stay that way."
"So I've been told."
That earned him a brief, searching look. Then the guard stepped aside.
Beyond the post, Ashfall thinned into dirt road and grass. The air cooled noticeably, smoke giving way to damp earth and green. The sun hung lower now, its influence weaker but still present.
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Sunlight Exposure: Reduced. Suppression Easing.
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His body responded immediately. Tension bled off his shoulders. His senses sharpened a fraction—not dramatically, just enough to notice things he would usually miss.
He followed the road until it narrowed into something older and less maintained, ruts filled with shadow, grass reclaiming the edges. Markers stood at irregular intervals, stone worn smooth by time rather than neglect.
He stopped at one and rested his hand briefly against it. The forest waited ahead, its edge uneven and dark even in the fading light. Not hostile. Not inviting. Just present. Like a held breath that hadn't decided whether to release yet.
Kieran didn't cross immediately. He took inventory instead—not of gear, but of himself. Blood reserve sat lower than he liked. Not critical. But far enough down that his instincts were beginning to test boundaries, nudging attention toward movement, toward warmth.
He'd fed recently enough that restraint still felt like a choice. He preferred it that way.
He shifted his pack, adjusting the strap until the weight settled comfortably. With no direction he began to walk, barely taking stock of his surroundings.
It felt like moving without resistance, each step unclaimed by intention, as if the world was passing him by instead of the other way around. There was no relief in it—only a quiet thinning of weight, the sense that nothing was being asked and nothing was being given.
Sound softened first. Not vanished—just absorbed. Footsteps no longer echoed. Wind moved through leaves instead of past stone. Light fractured as the canopy thickened, turning the world into layers instead of distances.
Walking without purpose left Kieran feeling hollowed rather than free, each step precise but unclaimed, like a habit continuing after the reason for it had gone missing. The world moved around him without friction, and that absence of resistance felt more unsettling than pressure ever did.
Six hours slipped by unnoticed, the light thinning and warming until the sun sagged into the treeline, painting the forest edge in copper and shadow. By the time dusk settled, his body registered the change before his thoughts did, a quiet reminder that time still advanced whether he chose a direction or not
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Sunlight Exposure: Negligible. Suppression Removed.
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He exhaled slowly. That's better.
He moved deeper without haste, placing each step with care rather than caution. The forest didn't react. No ambush. No sudden spike in hostility. Just terrain doing what terrain did—roots where there shouldn't be, ground sloping subtly wrong, sightlines closing sooner than expected.
His senses adjusted automatically, posture lowering, weight centering.
A faint ache settled behind his eyes. Not pain. Pressure. The absence of blood making itself known now that the rest of him had come fully online. His heartbeat felt heavier, slower, like it was counting something. Time, maybe. He ignored it.
Reaching a shallow rise and stopping again, he began scanning the area. Fallen branches. Moss-heavy stones. A depression in the ground that might once have been a path, or might have been made by something larger than him moving without concern for concealment. He didn't assign meaning to it.
The system flickered briefly at the edge of his perception.
Area Entered.
No name. No designation.
He didn't open the notification.
The forest didn't announce itself as important. That alone made it worth attention.
Kieran moved on.
Minutes passed. Or longer. Time lost some of its structure here, measured instead by terrain and exertion. His hunger climbed another subtle notch, sharpening his awareness but also tightening his restraint. He found himself noticing the warmth of living things more readily now—the pulse of insects, the distant movement of something larger.
He kept his breathing slow.
This was the reminder that it could become hunger if he was careless.
He paused near a cluster of standing stones half-swallowed by moss, old enough that whatever meaning they once held had eroded into texture. He rested a hand on one, grounding himself in the cool, solid presence.
He adjusted his stance, letting the forest settle around him instead of trying to impose himself on it. He straightened and continued, deeper into shadow, not searching for anything specific. Just moving. Just existing within the space long enough for it to decide whether he mattered.
Behind him, the road had already vanished. Ashfall was no longer a place he could see—only one he remembered. The forest didn't welcome him. It didn't reject him either. It watched.
And Kieran, aware of the hunger in his veins and the quiet patience of the world around him, allowed himself to be watched—without offering anything he wasn't prepared to lose.