The forest fell unnaturally silent.
Not the quiet of safety—
but the kind that pressed against the ears, heavy and suffocating, as if the world itself was waiting.
No monsters cried out.
No insects stirred.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
I lay on the forest floor, blood soaking into the leaves beneath me, my body screaming in pain with every shallow breath. My leg throbbed violently where the spear had pierced it, and my left arm burned with a sharp, nauseating agony that made my vision blur.
Charlie stood frozen several steps away, his chest rising and falling hard, blood at the corner of his mouth. Vaela remained still too, bow lowered for the first time, her sharp eyes fixed on Rokar.
And Rokar—
Rokar stood stiff, his posture rigid, his spear no longer raised.
Then—
A voice echoed through the forest.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't close.
Yet it was unmistakably clear—cutting through the silence as if distance meant nothing to it.
Old.
Ancient.
"Skra-greet. Skra-where?"
(Greetings. Where are you?)
My breath hitched.
The sound didn't come from in front of me.
Or behind.
Or anywhere my eyes could find.
It was as if the forest itself had spoken—every tree, every shadow, every root vibrating faintly with the echo of that single voice.
Cold crept up my spine.
Whatever had just spoken…
was not here.
Rokar straightened instantly. He lowered his spear fully and placed a fist over his chest.
"Skra-elder. Rokar in forest."
(Elder. Rokar is in forest.)
The voice returned, calm but probing.
"Skra-why?"
(Why did you go?)
Rokar hesitated for only a fraction of a second.
"Skra-find Azure Core."
(We came to find the Azure Core.)
The words came out respectful. Controlled. Nothing like the mocking tone he had used on me moments earlier.
My eyes widened despite the pain ripping through my body.
Azure Core…?
Was that what the blue jewel was called?
The voice fell silent for a brief moment—
"Skra-Vaela?"
(Is Vaela with you?)
Rokar straightened instinctively, answering without hesitation.
"Yes," he said firmly. "Skra-with me."
(She is with me.)
Even without seeing the speaker, I could feel the weight behind those words—authority that didn't need to raise its voice.
The Elder spoke again.
"Skra—find it?"
(Did you find it?)
Rokar nodded.
"Yes. Skra-found. We return."
(Yes. We found it. We are returning.)
A faint hum echoed through the forest.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't threatening.
But it carried a strange sense of approval—like a distant current passing through the air.
"Good. Skra-don't provoke beasts there."
(Good. Do not provoke monsters in that area.)
"Yes, Elder," Rokar said firmly. "Skra-careful."
(We will be careful.)
I listened in complete silence, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed through my ribs.
A short distance away, Charlie stood frozen, his posture rigid, eyes locked on Rokar and the strange mirror in his hand. He didn't move—not a single step—yet I could feel his focus sharpen, ready to react if things turned worse.
Vaela remained still as well, one hand resting near her weapon, gaze flicking between Rokar and the dark forest around us.
None of us dared to breathe too loudly.
The forest itself seemed to be listening.
Then the voice spoke again.
"But I skra-call you for more."
(But I called you for something else.)
Rokar stiffened.
"Yes, Elder. Skra-say."
(Yes. Please speak.)
The forest seemed to grow colder.
"I saw vision. Skra-meet important soul today."
(I saw a vision. You will meet someone important today.)
My fingers twitched weakly.
"Skra-not when," the Elder continued, "but when skra-meet one—skra-treat him like skra-treat me. Skra-Bring him village."
(Not sure when. But when you meet him, treat him as you treat me. Bring him to the village.)
Rokar's face twitched.
It was subtle—so slight that anyone not watching him closely would have missed it. Just a tightening at the corner of his jaw. A brief flicker in his eyes.
But I saw it.
Vaela saw it.
Even from a short distance away, I felt Charlie stiffen, his attention snapping sharply toward Rokar.
And through the shimmering surface of the mirror, the Elder noticed it too.
"Skra-Rokar? What wrong?" (Rokar? What is wrong?)
The forest seemed to grow quieter at her question, as if even the trees were waiting for his answer.
Rokar didn't respond immediately.
His grip on the spear tightened, then loosened. He drew in a slow breath through his nose, chest rising once before he spoke.
"We…"
He paused, the word hanging awkwardly between them.
"…skra-met people today." (We met people today.)
The words settled into the air like falling ash.
Silence followed.
Then—
"What!?"
The Elder's voice sharpened instantly, the warmth draining from it like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"You skra-met already?"
(You already met them?)
A brief, heavy pause followed—so thick it felt as though the forest itself leaned in to listen.
"Skra-bring village."
(Bring them to the village.)
The command carried no hesitation.
No doubt.
Only certainty.
Rokar's jaw tightened until the muscles in his neck stood out like cords.
He turned his head slightly and glanced at Vaela.
She didn't look back.
Vaela's eyes stayed forward, fixed on the forest floor, her grip on the bow just a little too tight. It was a silent refusal—don't drag me into this.
The air grew unbearably heavy.
No wind.
No insects.
Even the forest seemed to be listening.
The voice from the mirror rang out again, sharper this time, cutting straight through the silence.
"Rokar. Skra-why silent?"
(Rokar. Why are you silent?)
Two seconds passed.
Then three.
Rokar swallowed hard. His shoulders shifted, rising and falling once as if he were bracing himself.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower than before.
"…We skra-attack dem."
(…We attacked them.)
The words landed like a blow.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
"Graah! Skra-dumb beast!" the Elder roared, her voice exploding out of the mirror, raw and furious.
(You dumb beast!)
Even Vaela flinched.
"Skra-kill dem!?"
(Did you kill them!?)
Rokar straightened instantly, panic flashing across his tattooed face. He answered without hesitation, almost shouting.
"No! Skra-no kill!"
(No! We did not kill them!)
A sharp inhale echoed through the mirror—long, tense.
Then the fury cracked.
"…Hrrk," the Elder exhaled slowly.
(Relief.)
Her voice returned, still stern, but no longer explosive.
"Skra-good. Skra-apologize."
(Good. Apologize.)
Rokar grimaced.
"…Skra-problem. We skra-wound dem."
(There is a problem. We wounded them.)
The Elder went silent.
Then—
A deep, steady breath.
"Rokar," she said firmly, "skra-bring village now"
(Bring them to the village immediately.)
"Yes, Elder," Rokar said, bowing his head.
The faint glow leaking from Rokar's leather pocket dimmed, then vanished entirely as he slipped the mirror artifact back into place. The forest seemed to exhale with it, the strange pressure easing just a fraction—though the danger remained thick in the air.
Then—
Rokar turned toward me.
Not abruptly.
Not aggressively.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The towering barbarian stepped closer, his shadow stretching over me, and for the first time since the fight began, he lowered his spear completely. The weapon's tip sank into the soil with a dull sound, no longer aimed at my chest.
He extended his hand.
"Skra-get up," he said bluntly, his tone stripped of mockery or menace. "Or skra-die from blood."
(Get up. Or you will die from blood loss.)
My vision swam as I stared at his outstretched hand. Pain flared through my body in violent waves—the wound in my leg throbbed mercilessly, and my arm burned where the spear had struck. Every breath felt shallow, strained, as if my body was already losing the fight to stay conscious.
For a heartbeat, I hesitated.
This was the man who had stabbed me.
Who had hunted me like prey moments ago.
My instincts screamed distrust.
But another voice—quieter, colder—cut through the fear.
Survive.
I clenched my jaw and reached out.
The moment my fingers wrapped around his hand, I understood just how strong he was. Rokar's grip closed like iron, rough and unyielding, and before I could brace myself, he hauled me upward with brutal ease.
Agony ripped through my injured leg as it took weight, a sharp cry tearing from my throat before I could stop it. My knees nearly buckled—but Rokar adjusted instantly, shifting his stance and keeping me upright without effort.
"Skra-stand," he muttered.
(Stand.)
I leaned against him, breath ragged, every nerve screaming—yet still alive.
Charlie rushed to my other side immediately, sliding my arm over his shoulder.
"I've got him," Charlie said under his breath.
Vaela stepped closer too.
Then—unexpectedly—
both Rokar and Vaela lowered their heads slightly.
"Skra-sorry."
(We are sorry.)
For a heartbeat, I thought I'd misheard.
My breath hitched painfully as disbelief washed over me, stronger than the pain tearing through my leg. These were the same people who had hunted us through the forest, who had laughed while driving a spear through my body—now bowing their heads?
I stared at them, my mind refusing to accept it.
Behind me, Charlie went rigid.
I felt it even without turning—the sharp intake of his breath, the way his posture stiffened as if expecting a trap. His eyes flicked between Rokar and Vaela, searching for deception, for the slightest twitch that might signal another attack.
An apology… from them?
"Skra-Come village," Vaela added. "Heal there."
(Come to our village. Get treated.)
Charlie opened his mouth to refuse—
Then looked at my bleeding leg. His burned arm.
The dark forest around us. He exhaled slowly.
"…We'll come," he said.
Rokar nodded once.
"Skra-Follow."
(Follow us.)
And just like that—
Enemies became guides.
And together, limping, bleeding, and uncertain—
We followed the barbarians deeper into the forest…
Toward their village.
And whatever fate awaited us there.