Fenix let out a small yawn, rubbing at his tired eyes.
Since the night of the voices, sleep had become a fickle thing. No matter how many times he lay down, no matter how exhausted his body grew, his mind refused to rest. Each time he closed his eyes, he half expected to hear that broken
laughter again, to feel the ashes burn and tighten as something unseen crept closer.
It had been three days since then.
According to the map, they were only a few minutes away from their destination.
The forest, for its part, had returned to an unsettling normalcy. No whispers echoed through the trees. No shadows stretched unnaturally. The birds had and insects were still yet to be heard through the air. But it was still as beautiful as it had been when Fenix first entered.
And yet, an eerie chill lingered.
The air felt heavier, as though the forest itself were holding its breath.
Fenix glanced sideways at Aeris.
The black haired boy walked a few steps ahead, humming softly to himself while turning a small yellow flower between his fingers. He looked entirely at ease, as though the forest posed no threat at all. His expression was distant but calm, eyes half lidded as if lost in thought.
Fenix frowned.
He had tried, truly tried, to make polite conversation over the past few days. Most attempts had ended with Aeris giving cryptic answers that raised more questions than they solved, or with Fenix tripping over his own words and regretting ever opening his mouth.
More than once, they had descended into outright bickering.
His frown deepened as one particular memory resurfaced.
It had been midday. The sun high overhead. Fenix had been chewing on a piece of bread when he realized something that struck him as odd. Aeris had not eaten once that entire day.
Concerned, and perhaps a little proud of his own preparedness, Fenix had torn off a rather generous chunk of his loaf and offered it to him.
Aeris had stared at it.
Then he had wrinkled his nose.
"It is dry," Aeris had said plainly. "And too hard."
Fenix did not take that well.
That had been enough to spark it.
In Fenix's opinion, Aeris had said it purely to provoke him. He could still remember the glint in those dark green eyes, sharp and calculating, far too amused for someone who claimed indifference.
Did Fenix actually care about the bread?
No.
But was he about to let Aeris win?
Absolutely not.
And so they had argued. Loudly. For nearly half a day.
At first, Fenix had been genuinely annoyed. Then something strange had happened. The irritation faded, replaced by something familiar and oddly comforting. The argument had begun to feel natural, like a habit formed long ago.
As though he had been doing this for years.
"Hey."
Aeris's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Fenix barely had time to react before he nearly collided with a tree.
He sidestepped at the last moment, scowling. "What?"
"Do you often get lost in your inner monologue?" Aeris asked, his tone balanced delicately between teasing and mocking. "You nearly ran straight into that tree."
Petty fire sparked in Fenix's chest.
"Oh?" he shot back. "Says you. I had to yell your name at least forty times and you still managed to fall into the river."
Aeris opened his mouth, clearly ready to retaliate, and pushed aside a curtain of branches.
Then he stopped.
The sudden stillness sent a ripple of unease through Fenix.
"What?" he asked sharply. "Why did you stop?"
Aeris did not answer.
Fenix stepped forward.
And then he saw it.
The smell hit him first.
It was thick and overwhelming, clawing its way into his lungs. Iron heavy and rotten. His stomach lurched violently as bile rose in his throat.
His breath caught.
Before them lay devastation.
Bodies were scattered across the clearing, twisted at unnatural angles. Some lay half buried in mud, others slumped against trees as though they had simply sat down and never risen again.
The ground was dark, soaked through with blood that had long since begun to dry.
Weapons lay abandoned where hands had fallen limp. Broken spears. Splintered bows. Shields cracked nearly in half.
Villagers.
Not soldiers.
Men. Women. Children.
Fenix's vision blurred as his gaze landed on a small figure near the center of the clearing. A child no older than ten lay face down in the dirt, fingers still clutching a wooden toy.
His knees weakened.
"What…" His voice came out barely above a whisper. "What is this?"
A suffocating cold settled into the air, seeping beneath his skin.
Aeris's expression had changed entirely.
The playful glint was gone. His posture stiffened, wings twitching faintly beneath his robes as his gaze swept across the carnage.
"This," Aeris said quietly, "is what happens when arrogance makes an individual grow too big."
Fenix swallowed hard.
His ashes stirred.
They tightened around his wrist, pulsing violently as a dull heat flared beneath his skin. He clutched his arm instinctively, breath quickening.
There was no sound now.
No birds.
No insects.
Only silence.
And beneath it, something watching.
Fenix's heart pounded as a terrible realization settled in his chest.
They were not arriving at their destination.
They were arriving too late.
And whatever had done this was not gone.
It was waiting.
Somewhere nearby, a branch creaked.
Aeris's head snapped up.
"Stay behind me," he said, his voice no longer light, no longer teasing.
Fenix did not argue for once.