I woke slowly.
Not with a jolt or a gasp—but with a dull awareness settling over me, like fog lifting inch by inch. My body felt heavy, as if I had been pressed deep into the earth and only now allowed to surface.
The first thing I noticed was the smell.
Wood. Damp soil. Faint traces of smoke.
It was subtle, almost comforting—nothing like the cold, stale air of the cave we had hidden in before.
This scent felt lived in, as if people had passed through here countless times, leaving warmth behind without realizing it.
The air was heavier than the outside forest, but not suffocating. It settled around me instead of pressing down, easing the tightness in my chest little by little.
For the first time in what felt like days, I didn't feel like the world was trying to crush me and that alone made this place feel different.
I opened my eyes clearly, the world coming back into focus.
Above me, the ceiling wasn't really a ceiling at all.
Thick wooden planks curved awkwardly around something far larger—branches. A living tree pierced straight through the roof, its bark dark and textured, its limbs disappearing into the shadows above. Sunlight filtered through gaps between leaves and wood, scattering faint golden patterns across the floor.
For a long moment, I simply stared—letting the truth settle in.
This wasn't a dream.
The pain came next. A dull throb pulsed through my leg, spreading upward in slow waves. My arm ached too, stiff and sore, like it had been wrapped too tightly for too long. It hurt—but not sharply. Not unbearably.
The medicine worked.
I exhaled quietly and shifted slightly, the rough wooden floor cool beneath my palms. Roots twisted up through the boards near my side, thick and ancient, as if the house had been built around the tree rather than the other way around.
That thought alone felt strange. A house that bends for a tree.
I turned my head.
Charlie stood near the wall, arms crossed, his back resting lightly against the wood. His eyes were open, sharp and focused, watching the doorway as if something might burst through it at any moment. He looked untouched by sleep—like he'd simply been standing there all night, waiting.
"You're awake, young master" Charlie said.
"How long... was I asleep?" My throat felt dry, my voice barely steady.
"A full day," he answered softly. "Your body pushed itself too far. It needed the rest."
I nodded slowly, absorbing that.
My gaze drifted back up to the branches cutting through the ceiling. The morning light was brighter now. Somewhere outside, I could hear movement—voices, footsteps, distant laughter.
The village was awake.
Silence stretched between us.
Then—uninvited—her words returned.
Your existence will become a blessing to this village… and to the greater world outside it.
I swallowed.
My chest felt tight.
I wasn't special. I wasn't strong. I hadn't even known this world existed until recently. Just days ago, I'd been celebrating my birthday like a normal person.
Now an elder—someone who claimed to see the future—had looked at me and said that.
I stared at the ceiling again.
How could someone like me matter to anyone?
My hand moved on its own, drawn by instinct rather than thought, pressing lightly against my chest.
The book was there. Exactly where it had always been.
A quiet breath slipped out of me as I slowly pulled it free from beneath my clothes. It settled into my palms with familiar weight—solid, unyielding, real.
The cover was the same. Cold. Heavy. The golden letters etched into its surface caught the light faintly—but that was all.
No warmth spread through my fingers.
No strange pulse answered my touch.
No surge of power—no reaction at all.
I frowned and turned it slowly, examining every edge. The spine. The corners, frayed with age. The surface where my fingers had once felt something stir.
Nothing.
It was just… a book.
And somehow, that unsettled me more than if it had flared with energy or burned my skin.
Back then—when terror drowned out reason, when desperation clawed at my chest and death was only a breath away—it had responded.
A shield had risen in that instant.
But now?
Silence.
A hollow feeling settled in my chest, heavier than fear.
If this book truly held power…
if it really was something extraordinary…
Then why did it feel like nothing more than dead weight in my hands now?
I slid it back beneath my shirt, setting those questions aside for now.
Outside, the sounds of the village grew clearer.
Children laughing.
Someone chopping wood.
Barbarian voices calling to one another in their rough, clipped language.
It wasn't chaotic.
It was… organized. Alive.
For the first time since entering the Silent Forest, the sense of constant threat felt distant—like it was being held at bay by invisible walls.
A knock sounded at the doorway.
Before either of us could speak, Vaela stepped inside.
She carried a small bundle—wrapped food and a container of water. Her movements were efficient, her expression unreadable as ever. She set them down near me without ceremony.
"Elder skra-see you later," she said. "When skra-walk proper."
I nodded. "Thank you."
She studied me for a moment longer than necessary. Not hostile. Not kind. Just… assessing.
Then she turned and left as abruptly as she had come.
I pushed myself up slowly, bracing one hand against the floor as I tested my weight.
Pain flared instantly—sharp and insistent—racing up my leg and tightening my chest. But this time, it was different. Still there. Still unpleasant. Yet… bearable—far more tolerable than the agony that had nearly crushed me yesterday.
I exhaled shakily.
"I can stand," I muttered, the words meant more to convince myself than anyone else.
Charlie was at my side immediately. Not touching me. Not supporting me. Just close enough—close enough that if my legs gave out, he would catch me before I hit the floor. His presence was steady, silent, watchful.
I planted one foot carefully against the ground.
Then the other.
My leg trembled violently, muscles screaming in protest as if they were being stretched past their limits. A deep, dull ache throbbed beneath the bandages, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Sweat prickled along my spine.
But it wasn't the same hopeless pain as before.
I stayed upright.
Slow. Unsteady. Breathing hard. Standing.
I shifted my weight forward and took a cautious step toward the doorway.
The pain spiked again—sharp enough to force a hiss through my teeth—but it didn't overwhelm me.
Then another step.
Each movement felt like pushing against an invisible current, my body resisting every command my mind gave it. Still, I moved—proving, inch by inch, that I wasn't broken.
Charlie didn't say a word. He simply watched—eyes sharp, posture tense—ready, always ready, as I pushed forward on my own.
Outside, the village stretched out beneath the trees. Wooden structures built along trunks and branches. Rope ladders. Walkways. People moving about their lives as if this place had always existed—hidden from the rest of the world.
"Charlie," I said quietly.
He looked at me.
"Do you think what she said is true?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Prophecies don't create fate," he said at last. "They reveal possibilities."
I didn't know if that was meant to comfort me.
I paused and looked back at the village.
The wooden homes.
The paths carved by countless bare feet.
The people who watched from a distance—curious, wary, whispering.
I didn't feel chosen.
I felt exposed.
Like I had been dragged into the open and placed beneath a sky too vast to hide under. Whatever elder had seen in her vision, whatever fate she believed waited for me—I couldn't feel it in my bones. There was no warmth. No certainty. Only the unsettling sense that eyes were now on me… and that they wouldn't look away again.
My fingers curled slowly at my side.
But if something was coming—
if danger was already moving, already coiling somewhere beyond sight—
then hiding forever wasn't an answer.
It never had been.
And if I wanted to leave this forest—
if I wanted to survive long enough to uncover the truth, to face the ones who slaughtered my family
and take revenge for them—
Then one thing was clear.
I couldn't remain weak.
I had to become stronger. Strong enough to walk out of this forest on my own feet. Strong enough to stand in front of those monsters and not be crushed beneath them. Strong enough to protect what little I had left… and whatever future awaited me beyond these trees.
I drew in a steady breath and took another step forward.
Not because I was brave.
Not because I understood anything.
But because standing still meant dying slowly.
The forest behind the village was quiet.
And for now—
So was my mind.
Slowly… sleep had claimed me before, dragging me under when my body could no longer endure.
Now, something else had taken its place.
Awareness.
Uncertainty.
And beneath them—quiet, steady, and unyielding—resolve.
The kind that didn't roar or burn bright, but settled deep in the chest and refused to fade.
The beginning of something I didn't yet understand… but knew I could no longer turn away from.