No forest in Bellacia runs as deep or as wide as Greyhallow. It sprawls across the west like a great, slumbering beast—its edges creeping into farmlands and roads, but its heart lies untouched far from the reaches of civilization. Travelers speak of walking for days beneath its canopy and feeling as though the trees themselves watched their every move.
There are towns scattered within—old, stubborn settlements. Their people build inward, close and quiet, and always with multiple watchmen on guard. Most have a tale or two of something glimpsed in the fog, or a name whispered in sleep, though few admit to believing them.
The deeper paths of Greyhallow are said to change when unobserved. Landmarks vanish. Trails curl back. Some say the forest doesn't like to be known—and that it decides who may pass through it.
Dusk bled through the trees.
Long beams of fading light pierced the forest's canopy, catching in the drifting mist and tinting the air a rusted gold. The forest had grown quiet—no birdsong or chirping insects. Just the muted crunch of boots over damp brush and the occasional whisper of Kai's blade as it cut a path through the dense undergrowth.
Rell trailed a few steps behind, her eyes scanning the shadows, though her thoughts wandered elsewhere.
Mick's voice still echoed in her skull. He'd sounded so certain—Kempford isn't dead. He said it plainly, without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The certainty in his voice gnawed at her. Either he was lying, or something was deeply, impossibly wrong.
Because she remembered. The body. The cell. The stink of iron in the air. The amulet still resting on his chest. Kempford was dead. Wasn't he?
She clenched her jaw and drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, warding off the cold that crept in with the dark. The forest floor was damp and uneven, gnarled roots coiled beneath patches of moss, making every step a test of balance.
Her gaze lingered on Kai. He moved ahead in silence, cutting through the brush. He hadn't said more than a handful of words since they resumed their march—just quiet, steady footsteps and a blade that never faltered. His shoulders were rigid, jaw clenched, eyes fixed forward.
Whatever weight he carried, he wasn't willing to share it. Not yet.
Where was he even going? He seemed to be chasing something just beyond reach—like if he paused, even for a breath, it would slip through his fingers forever.
Did he actually know where he was headed? When asked he only said north.
In the waning light, he looked almost spectral, pale-haired and holding that strange black sword—one that didn't catch the light like steel should. It didn't appear forged, but rather unearthed, as though it had been waiting deep in the ground for someone to dig it up. That thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Then there was the noble.
Oro—his presence a stark contrast to Kai's grim silence—wouldn't stop grumbling at the back of the line. Every snapped branch was an outrage, every incline a betrayal. Mud on his boots became a personal tragedy. He moved like a man personally offended by the idea of discomfort, the kind who expected his meals garnished and his wine at the perfect temperature.
And yet… he hadn't stopped. Hadn't turned back. Despite the thorns, the uneven terrain, and his vocal distaste for everything around him, he kept walking. He hadn't demanded they carry him, hadn't insisted on detouring toward the comfort of a manor house.
Why was he even here, following a commoner through the woods like it meant something?
Rell didn't trust either of them. The whole situation felt wrong. Strange. Maybe it was time to slip away and make her own path. Maybe it was smarter that way.
She parted her lips to speak—
—but Oro's voice rang out again from the rear, loud and theatrical.
"Ugh, another hill? What cruel god designed this forest?" Oro groaned, dragging each step with theatrical flair. "Kai, my friend—Rell appears to be flagging. I daresay it's time we grant ourselves a well-earned reprieve."
Kai halted mid-step and turned. His gaze met Rell's briefly before shifting past her to the red-haired noble struggling at the rear. For a moment—so fleeting it could've been imagined—a smile tugged at his lips, warm and unexpected. Then it vanished.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's find a place to set up camp."
Rell paused, caught off guard—not by his words, but by that smile. Gentle. Unassuming. Almost… kind.
She shook her head. That was her cue.
"I'll be on my way 'fore dark settles in." she said, folding her arms across her chest.
Oro gasped, dramatic as ever. "What? You're leaving?"
"I don't travel with folks I don't trust." she replied coolly, her eyes flicking between the two of them.
"I see," Kai said. "Be careful. We've probably put enough distance between us and those people from earlier… but—" He stopped there, frowning slightly.
"But?" Oro asked, finally catching up and leaning against a nearby tree.
"I don't know," Kai admitted. "This place… something feels wrong."
"Don't be superstitious," Rell said, brushing past his concern with a dismissive wave. "All those Greyhallow stories are made up."
Oro stiffened, his posture suddenly rigid. "Wait—this is Greyhallow?" he asked, the casual lilt in his voice giving way to unease. "Isn't this place supposed to be… h-haunted?"
Rell rolled her eyes. "Honestly, how'd ya not realize which forest you've been traipsin' through all day?" She waved her hand again, as if swatting away a fly. "It's just old superstition. Tall tales, nothin' more."
As if summoned by Rell's words, a sudden chill swept through the trees—not a breeze, but a biting, unnatural gust that clawed the warmth from the air. The forest dimmed, its shadows growing longer, heavier, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath. The last vestiges of the sun's light disappearing behind the hills.
Rell froze.
A sound stirred from deeper within—too deliberate to be wind, too steady to be an animal. A faint rustle, followed by a slow, dragging noise, like something being pulled across the underbrush.
Oro was already pressed against a tree. "What was that?"
Kai didn't answer. He stepped forward, toward the sound, sword loose at his side, trying to glimpse whatever lurked beyond the veil of trees.
Rell glanced around, her nerves now fully alert. The forest was too quiet. Oppressively so. Now that they'd all gone still, the silence became deafening. Not even the usual whisper of leaves broke the hush that had settled upon them.
She swallowed hard.
"We'll camp here," she said, a little too quickly.
Oro blinked. "Wait, weren't you just about to—?"
"Change of heart," she cut in sharply.
The fire crackled low, its glow flickering across the trunks of the surrounding trees. They'd cleared just enough of the underbrush to form a loose triangle around the flames—Rell perched near the edge, legs crossed and watchful. Kai sat directly across from her, silent, gaze fixed on the embers. Oro, of course, had claimed the closest spot to the fire, poking at it with a stick like it might tell him a story.
The silence stretched. Long enough to grow awkward. At last, Oro cleared his throat, unable to bear it any longer.
"So… Kai."
Kai didn't look up, but a slight bob of his head indicated that he was listening.
"That sword you're carrying—it's not merely some ornate relic you stumbled upon, is it?"
Rell's eyes shifted toward Kai, her curiosity piqued. She'd wondered the same.
Kai paused. "It belonged to someone I knew."
"And now, it belongs to you," Oro said, his tone light—not mocking, just inquisitive. "I saw you wield it in battle earlier—quite the display," Oro remarked, his tone laced with intrigue. "I had no idea you were trained with a blade. Though I must confess, I didn't quite recognize your forms. I may not be a Forcer myself, but I am Aldinian born—and in Aldinia, we know our duels."
"The village chief taught me," Kai said simply.
"Ah, right. Vander, wasn't it?" Oro said, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. He leaned forward, curiosity sharpening his tone. "That does leave one rather pressing question, though… Where did it come from? You weren't armed at the ball—last I saw, you were twirling about with a beauty on your arm. Next thing I know, I find you caked in mud, lying in some field like the tragic hero of a half-finished play. Feels as though I've missed a few pages in the middle there."
Rell kept her focus on Kai, quietly observing him through the wavering firelight. Her earlier suspicions crawled back to the surface as she studied the strange, quiet man across from her. He continued his vigil of the fire but a subtle sag crept into his posture. As though the weight of his secrets pulled at him.
Kai met his gaze, but there was no hostility in it—only weariness. "That woman… I'd met her before. The sword was in her possession. I took it back."
Oro leaned in slightly, curiosity flaring. "Ah, so there's a personal history. Do go on—don't you dare spare me the details."
"She…" Kai hesitated. Whatever he meant to say, the words tangled somewhere between memory and explanation.
The fire popped, a single ember leaping into the grass before fading.
Oro let the silence linger for a beat, then turned toward Rell with a casual pivot. "Very well—your turn now,"
She arched an eyebrow.
"You knew that boy—Mick, wasn't it?"
Her fingers moved along her bow, checking the string, though it hardly needed tending. She gave Oro a brief side-glance, then turned her gaze back to the flames.
"We grew up together in the slums of Brelith," she said. "A noble torched our village for sport. We had to run—ended up in the city."
Oro's usual levity faded, his expression softening with a rare flicker of genuine sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice subdued. "And now?"
Her voice tightened. "Now they think they're fightin' for some… cause. Soldiers in someone else's war. I don't got all the answers yet, but—" She cut herself off, jaw setting. "It don't matter."
Oro didn't press. He stood with a groan, stretching his arms. "Well, that's enough mystery for one night. I'm going to pretend I can sleep on pine needles. If anything tries to murder us, please wake me."
He ambled over to the flattest patch of ground he could find and collapsed without ceremony.
Kai remained seated, the sword resting beside him. Rell stayed where she was, arms crossed.
"You were going to kill him," Kai said, tone even.
"That's none of yer concern." she shot back.
"You grew up in the same village," he said. "You're basically family."
Rell's glare was sharp enough to cut, but she didn't argue. Instead, she shifted the conversation.
"Ya not sleepin'?"
Kai shook his head. "Not tired."
A pause.
"Then you'll keep watch?"
He nodded once.
Rell cast him one last, scrutinizing glance before lying down. Her hand slipped beneath her cloak, fingers coiling tightly around the hilt of her knife—just in case.
She didn't trust them. But they didn't seem like bad people to her.
She lay on her side, motionless, eyes open to the canopy above. Most of the stars were veiled behind shifting clouds, but here and there, moonlight pierced through the branches—cold and pale. But honest, at least.
Her thoughts wandered, uninvited, back to Mick. If he was here, the others couldn't be far. The refugees… her people. Her family. They had to be somewhere deeper within Greyhallow, traveling a parallel path perhaps—just beyond sight, hidden in the forest's tangled folds. If she kept heading north, would she find them?
Should she even be going north?
Her eyes drifted toward the fire. Kai sat on the other side, unmoving—his posture rigid, eyes lost in the flames. That black sword lay beside him, dull as stone but somehow heavier in presence than any gleaming blade. Oro lay a little farther off, fast asleep, already snoring softly.
Rell exhaled, her breath catching in the cold.
She should go alone. But maybe… not yet.
Maybe one more day. Just in case the trail revealed something she'd miss on her own.
Her fingers loosened around the knife's hilt, just a little. Her eyes slipped shut.
Sleep—if it came—would be shallow and brief. But there will be no good sleep until she finds her answers.
They traveled for three days through the winding paths of Greyhallow, the towering trees providing a constant canopy overhead. The days blurred together—mist-draped mornings, hushed afternoons, and nights filled with crackling firelight and the distant, unfamiliar cries of unseen creatures.
Rell kept her distance. She had no reason to trust them—not really. But traveling with people again—sharing food, exchanging the occasional word, walking side by side—wore at her walls. Slowly. Reluctantly.
Kai had changed. Still quiet, still guarded, but the tautness in his shoulders seemed to unwind with each passing day. Occasionally, he even spoke without being prompted. Not full conversations, but fragments. Enough to make him feel more… human.
Oro was another story. Every inch a noble, but not in the way she expected. He didn't lecture. He didn't belittle. He was absurdly cheerful—bordering on naive—but he carried his weight. Around the fire, he always offered the first warm bite to whoever had worked hardest that day. His flame artes made kindling unnecessary, and for that alone, she was almost grateful.
Almost.
He was useless at everything else. Couldn't spot a trail to save his life, and every morning brought a new entanglement in brambles. Once, he tried to forage and nearly poisoned himself with what he claimed were "shiny raspberries." If not for Kai's sharp correction, it might've ended badly.
And Kai, it turned out, was more than a swordsman. He could read the land—knew what was edible, which leaves soothed burns, which roots eased stings. It was a quiet kind of skill, and Rell respected it.
She brought in what meat she could—rabbits, birds, even a fox once when the game ran thin. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Still, something about Kai didn't sit right. She watched him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. He barely touched his food. Never slept through the night. And every time they set up camp, he volunteered for the watch.
The first time, she chalked it up to chivalry. The second, to nerves.
But on the third night, when she cracked one eye open, she saw him at the edge of the clearing—sword in hand. He moved through a set of forms, slow at first, then faster. The firelight caught on the sheen of sweat across his skin, but his motions remained fluid. Focused.
He didn't tire. Not like a normal man should.
He was hiding something. Of that, she was certain. But what? And why?
Why did he train in secret? What was he chasing out there in the dark?
She didn't know. And she doubted he'd offer answers even if she asked.
So, for now, she watched. And waited. Content, for the moment, to let time unravel his mysteries.