The sun sank slowly behind the trees, bleeding amber light across the clearing. Shadows stretched long and thin over the cracked stone of the abandoned mansion, crawling like fingers across the earth.
A small fire crackled at the edge of the ruins.
Tomora sat beside it, knees drawn close to his chest, watching the flames dance. The warmth kissed his skin, the scent of roasted roots and simple meat filling the air. Across from him, Patricia leaned back on her hands, her green hair catching the firelight, eyes half-lidded in rare peace.
For once, the forest was quiet.
No wind. No distant movement. Just the gentle hum of cicadas and the soft pop of burning wood.
Patricia laughed softly at something Tomora said, the sound low and genuine. It startled him every time—how laughter could still exist in a world that hunted them.
"You're getting stronger every day," she said, nudging his shoulder with her knee. "Soon you'll be blowing holes through mountains."
Tomora snorted, poking at the fire with a stick. Sparks jumped into the air. "You say that every time."
"Because it keeps being true."
He glanced at her, electric-blue eyes reflecting the flames. "I'll make sure no one ever hurts you," he said quietly.
Patricia's smile softened, but something unreadable flickered behind her eyes. She opened her mouth—
The forest exploded.
A deafening crash tore through the trees as trunks snapped like matchsticks. The ground shuddered beneath them. Birds screamed into the sky.
Tomora shot to his feet, heart slamming against his ribs.
From the shadows between the trees, figures emerged.
Not one.
Not ten.
Hundreds.
Black armor absorbed the dying light. Masks reflected nothing. They moved with mechanical precision, boots striking the earth in perfect rhythm.
Black Iron.
Tomora's stomach dropped.
A man stepped forward, cloak brushing the ground. His voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"Surround the area," the commander ordered coldly. "Capture the boy alive. Kill anyone who resists."
Metal clicked. Weapons were raised.
Patricia moved first.
The ground beneath her feet split as roots burst upward, thick and twisting. Vines lashed out, snapping around legs and weapons, dragging soldiers screaming into the earth. Trees bent unnaturally, branches whipping through the air like spears.
Her green hair lifted as power surged through her veins, eyes glowing with fierce emerald light.
"Tomora," she said sharply. "Stay behind me."
But Tomora was already moving.
Lightning crawled over his skin, crackling along his arms. He thrust his hands forward, electricity tearing through the air in violent arcs. Thunder boomed as soldiers were hurled backward, armor smoking, bodies twitching.
The clearing became a warzone.
Steel clashed against roots. Fire-resistant nets snapped shut around vines. Thunder rods absorbed Tomora's lightning, redirecting it into the ground.
They kept coming.
Too many.
Patricia's breathing grew heavy. Sweat mixed with blood at her temple. Every time she forced the forest to heal, another squad tore it apart.
Then—
A faint whistle.
Too late.
Patricia's eyes widened as a black arrow pierced her shoulder. Green light flickered violently. Her knees buckled.
"Tomora—!"
She staggered forward, fingers clawing at the dirt as the toxin spread. The forest screamed in response—roots spasmed, trees cracked—but her control shattered.
She collapsed.
The world went silent.
Tomora dropped beside her, hands shaking as he caught her head. Her skin felt cold. Too cold.
"Patricia… no… hey—look at me."
Her eyes struggled to focus. A weak smile tugged at her lips.
"Guess… I didn't… clean up fast enough…"
Blood stained her green hair.
Something inside Tomora snapped.
The forest faded. The fire dimmed. The world shrank to a single point in his chest where pain twisted into something darker.
His vision burned white.
Not blue.
Not lightning.
White.
A pressure unlike anything he had ever felt surged through his veins. The air bent inward. The ground trembled.
Black Iron soldiers hesitated.
"What is that?" someone whispered.
The commander raised a hand. "Do not hesitate. Take him—"
Tomora screamed.
Not in grief.
In awakening.
The glow behind his eyes intensified, washing over the clearing like a rising sun. For a heartbeat, the world felt hollow—empty of sound, empty of fear.
Then—
Pain exploded across his skull.
A blunt weapon crashed into the side of his head. Stars burst behind his eyes. The white light shattered.
Tomora collapsed, the scream dying in his throat as darkness swallowed him whole.
Chains clinked.
Hands dragged his limp body across the dirt.
Behind him, Patricia lay motionless, the forest unnaturally still.
"Secure the boy," the commander ordered. "We have our prize."
They didn't notice the faint glow still leaking through Tomora's closed eyelids.
Didn't notice the ground beneath him trembling—not with thunder, not with nature—
But with something older.
Darker.
The forest swallowed their retreat.
And somewhere deep inside Tomora, something ancient stirred.