~Kyle The night swallowed me whole the moment I left the safety of the hut’s glow. The forest ahead was a wall of shadow and whispering branches, each gust of wind making the leaves murmur like conspirators. I didn’t hesitate. My boots sank into damp earth, and the smell of moss and rain-soaked bark filled my lungs. The only light came from the thin silver thread of the moon, just enough to paint the treetops in cold fire. I couldn’t see him at first—only the faint disturbances he left behind. A branch swaying without wind. A patch of ferns shivering as if brushed by something swift and careful. His footsteps were nearly silent, but my ears caught a rhythm: the faint scrape of leather, the soft crunch of soil. I followed. The deeper I went, the heavier the air became. It was as though the forest itself didn’t want me here. The calls of night creatures faded, replaced by an unnatural stillness. My heartbeat seemed too loud in the quiet, a drum summoning something I wasn’t ready t
~Ivy The hooded figure stood close enough for me to see his face now—no mask, no shadow conveniently hiding his features. I didn’t know him. I would have remembered if I had. His eyes studied me with a kind of deliberate patience, the way someone watches a fire to see if it will spread or die out. “I’m Caelum. I was a friend of your mother,” he said when he noticed that I stared at him without recognition. I flinched at the words. Not because I believed them, but because of the certainty with which he spoke them—as if no argument I made would matter. “You were?” I kept my voice flat, guarded. “Funny. She never mentioned you. Why’s that?” He smiled faintly, like he’d heard that before. “She wouldn’t have. Not to keep you safe.” Safe. The word sat uneasily in my mind, as if it had no right to be here. I folded my arms, keeping the weight of my stare on him. “If that’s your way of earning my trust, you’re failing. Who are you and what’s going on here? How did I get here?” “I c
~Clone Aeron The order was not spoken. It slid into my mind like a shard of black glass, smooth and cold, pressing until I understood. Find the destabilizing variable. No name. No location. Just the impression of movement through the western forest and the faintest pull, like gravity turned personal. The pull had been there before — small, distant — but now it yanked like a hooked line, tightening with every breath. I adjusted the leather strap of my gauntlet and started walking. It was an order that I had to execute alone. I didn’t know what the “destabilizing variable” was but following the directions given, I was convinced I would find what I was sent to find. The barracks behind me dissolved into the treeline. The air here was damp with moss and rotting leaves, the kind of damp that clung to skin. Above, the moonlight bled through jagged branches. I moved in silence, every step measured. I’d been built for this — moving unseen, unnoticed — but tonight something felt… differ
~Omniscient POV The forest never truly slept. Even now, with the moon caught behind a thick lid of cloud, the undergrowth pulsed with sound—soft shifts of leaves, the scratch of claws on bark, the faint chitter of something small and hungry in the dark. Kyle paced in front of the hut like a caged animal. The masked man had taken Ivy inside over an hour ago. The door was shut, the gaps between the rough-hewn planks glowing faintly blue from whatever sorcery was at work within. He kept glancing at it, as if glaring at the wood would somehow hurry the process along. The ground under his boots was already worn from his pacing. His attention kept drifting to the treeline. The forest loomed—silent in ways it shouldn’t be. He stopped. There it was again—movement. Subtle, just beyond the line where the torchlight from the hut dissolved into black. The shadows bent unnaturally, as if something was slipping between them. Kyle stepped forward, trying to mask his fear by acting cour
~Ivy I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me but when I moved closer, I knew they weren’t. It was actually my mom. She looked nothing like I remembered. She looked dangerous, powerful and scary as hell. Her eyes were glowing and she hovered over the floor at a reasonable distance. I turned around hoping to see the hooded figure but I didn’t see him anymore. I called out to him but I was replied with silence. The racing in my chest told me to run but I didn’t. The air shifted—just enough for me to notice. Then… it was gone. I turned towards where my mom was but she simply wasn’t there anymore. No sound. No flicker of robes. Nothing. It was almost like she was never there. I exhaled—too fast, too loud—and turned back toward the far wall. She was there. Close. So close I felt the brush of warm breath against my cheek. My knees almost buckled, but my body betrayed me—I didn’t move, couldn’t move. Her gaze pinned me in place, a pale white glow humming faintly in the dar
~Ivy The sound of my own breathing was too loud in this silence. Not the normal kind of silence—the oppressive kind, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see if I was going to make a wrong move. I kept my steps light, pressing my boots into the soft moss carpeting the forest floor. The figure ahead of me—hooded, quick—never glanced back, but I feel their awareness pressing at the edges of my mind. They knew I was here. The trees closed in tighter the farther I went. Their trunks were ancient, swollen with age, bark peeling like the pages of a book too often read. Thin ribbons of light slip between their branches, not sunlight, but something colder, pale as moonstone. I ran after the hooded figure, trying to catch up and see where they were headed but they were a lot faster than me. I quickened my pace, weaving between roots as thick as my arm. The air smelt faintly sweet, like dried fruit left in a jar too long. Something shifted beneath my feet making me stop. The