We ran through the forest, sunlight breaking through the canopy in sharp, blinding streaks. I led without hesitation—step after step—my body moving as if the path had already been carved into my mind from our last excursion.
I remember this.
Sare followed close behind me. Trace brought up the rear, fully recovered now.
After a few moments, we reached it.
"Wait," I whispered—loud enough to carry, soft enough not to draw attention. I pushed my hand back in a sharp signal.
Too open. Sound carries here.
"What?" Sare murmured, right behind my shoulder.
Trace stopped between us.
"This is where we turned back last time," I said quietly. "From here on out, we slow down. Stay quiet. We don't know what's ahead."
Trace crouched and gestured toward the trees. "Stick close to the trunks. Use them for cover. Just in case."
Sare nodded firmly.
She trusts this. She trusts me.
I resumed the lead, masking my presence as much as I could, letting myself fall into the forest's rhythm—breath matching footfall, presence thinning until it felt like I barely existed.
If I can't be seen, I can't be chosen.
Not long after, I saw it.
I stopped instantly, raising my hand, then pointed forward.
A beast.
Too close. But food.
"We need to kill it," Trace whispered. "We're out of food." She shook her bag for emphasis.
She's right. Hunger will kill us faster than this thing.
Trace crouched and sketched a rough plan in the dirt with a stick. "Asher, circle around and draw its attention. Sare and I attack from behind. We pinch it."
I nodded and moved without comment.
I can take its eyes. I always can.
I slipped into position, drawing Midnight as I went. The weight of the blade grounded me—familiar, steady. The moment I unmasked my presence, the forest seemed to inhale.
The creature reacted instantly.
A Hallow beast—legless, its long body slithering across the ground. Two arms ended in hooked claws, venom dripping steadily from their tips. Its thin tongue flicked out as it turned toward me.
Fast. But clumsy.
I advanced carefully, just close enough to keep its focus, just far enough to stay alive. Its claws tore through the air where I'd been a breath earlier.
Too slow.
I struck.
No cut. No blood.
Of course.
The impact jarred my arms, but the beast recoiled. Before I could adjust, Trace slammed into its abdomen, the force sending it reeling backward, a deep fist-shaped indentation left behind.
Good timing.
I followed up immediately, striking again—still no visible damage.
Then we break it.
The force was enough.
The creature collapsed.
Sare was already moving.
She brought the rock down hard, crushing its face in a single decisive blow.
I didn't look away until it stopped moving.
Food. Survival. Nothing more.
I sheathed Midnight, my grip tightening for just a moment longer than necessary.
Sare looked at both of us, smiling.
"I got a weapon."
Trace blinked. "Okay," she said, shaking her head. "Don't leave us hanging."
Sare lifted it properly then—a spear taller than she was, its dark shaft ending in a wicked, narrow tip.
"It's inscribed," she said, gripping it at her side. "The tip carries an infinite paralytic venom."
Why can't I kill the Hallow beasts?
The thought surfaced uninvited, sharp and unsettling. I pushed it aside.
"That's nice," I said evenly. "I used a spear before. I'm good with it." I glanced at the weapon again. But not like that. "It's not my style. You should keep it. No need to split this one."
Trace looked at Sare, then nodded. "I agree. I prefer swords anyway. And with your Attribute…" She smiled faintly. "It suits you best."
Sare's grip tightened, pride flickering across her face.
I crouched beside the corpse and began skinning the beast, working quickly, methodically. The blade moved without hesitation.
Food first. Questions later.
When I was done, I gathered the usable meat and stood, handing it to Trace.
"Put this in there," I said.
She took it, eyes widening slightly at the weight.
It would last us a while.
We continued on for a while.
Sare moved closer and spoke quietly. "Why did you hesitate back there?"
I glanced at her. "What do you mean?" My voice came out curious, unguarded.
"You don't know?" She studied my hands as we walked.
I frowned. "Know what?"
"When you struck the beast," she said, "the strength left your body at the moment of impact. As if you pulled back."
I slowed a fraction. I didn't feel that.
"I don't understand," I said. My face searched hers, waiting for something concrete—an explanation, a reason.
She shook her head. "I can't really say. But something was holding you back. I saw it."
She met my eyes once, then looked away.
"Only you can answer why."
Sare drifted back, falling in behind me.
I kept walking.
My hands felt heavier than they should have.
Something is holding me back.
My shadow stretched along the ground beside me, arms crossed, shaking his head slowly. Only I could see it.
Even you won't say it.
What was going on with me—and Midnight?
I had struck, again and again, yet the blade hadn't truly harmed any of the monsters. And that made no sense. I'd killed with it before. Cleanly.
So why now?
The more I turned the thought over, the worse it became. Pressure built behind my eyes, a dull ache spreading through my skull.
What am I doing wrong?
It wasn't my technique. It wasn't my strength. I felt the force carry through—felt the impact. I'd pushed the beast back. I'd broken its balance.
So why didn't it cut?
My shadow's head dipped once more, slow and deliberate.
I looked away.
Thinking harder only made it worse.
My shadow almost looked disappointed.
The thought twisted tighter than it should have.
I'm trying.
"I'm sorry," I said silently, the words never leaving my mouth. I really am.
I stared at my hands as we walked.
I just don't know what my problem is.
The shadow didn't respond. He only turned away, stretching thinner along the ground.
That hurt more than I expected.
After a while, the forest began to thin.
Stone broke through the roots first—old, weathered blocks half-swallowed by moss and soil. Then pillars, cracked and leaning, their surfaces carved with symbols time had tried and failed to erase.
I raised my hand, signaling a stop.
The three of us froze.
Ahead, a ruined temple sat in the clearing, its walls collapsed inward, its roof split open to the sky. Vines crawled over broken archways like veins, and shadows pooled where doors once stood.
Somewhere to stay.
The thought came unbidden—and with it, a tightness in my chest.
Trace's gaze swept the structure, sharp and calculating. Sare didn't look at the walls. She looked past them.
Her breath hitched.
"There are monsters," she whispered. "Inside."
I didn't move.
"If we want to stay," she continued softly, "we'll have to clear it."
The forest pressed in around us, silent, waiting.
I lowered my hand slowly.
And for the first time since entering the Hallow, the danger wasn't behind us.
It was home.