"The forest is not cruel. It simply watches. And waits."
— Wanderer's Folio, Fragment C-9
The stone beneath Elric's cheek pulsed — faint and slow, like the last heartbeat of something ancient. But he could no longer move. His limbs were lead, his vision a dim haze of cracked light and crawling shadow.
He heard voices.
Low. Distant.
Then — footsteps.
Heavy at first, deliberate. Then lighter ones. Softer. Quicker.
"Elric," he tried to say. Nothing came.
The book beside him flickered once with a weak shimmer of gold — then folded in on itself, page by page, word by word, vanishing like thread unwinding in silence.
No fire. No sound.
Just… gone.
And the last thing he felt was a hand grabbing his arm.
Then darkness.
Some Time Later
Location: Unknown
The room was quiet.
Not forest-quiet — not the kind full of whispers and teeth and trees that watched. This quiet was still. Boring, even.
Elric opened his eyes.
Stone ceiling. Threads etched faintly along the corners — woven into the architecture itself. Pale light filtered in from a narrow window, diffused through something like mist-glass. It wasn't natural light. But it wasn't threadlight either.
He sat up.
Someone had changed his clothes — into a plain gray tunic and soft slacks. Clean bandages wrapped his hands and forearms. His skin prickled, like something had scraped over his veins.
The air here didn't taste like the forest. It tasted like linen and metal.
He turned.
A chair sat near the far wall.
Empty.
A jug of water. A bowl of pale bread and fruit.
Where am I?
He tried to stand. His body groaned but obeyed.
Then the door creaked open.
A man stepped in first. Rough boots. Red-stringed blade at his hip. Broad shoulders. Scar over one brow. His sharp eyes flicked over Elric — like checking for signs of life, or threat.
"Tch. Still breathing. Good."
Elric said nothing.
The man leaned against the wall. "You're lucky I found you when I did. Another few minutes and the forest might've eaten you — or worse."
He jerked his chin behind him. "She's the one who said to drag you out."
The second figure stepped in behind him.
A woman.
Older. Calm. Gray-white hair tied back, face lined like a map of unreadable stories. She wore a long, dark robe and a blindfold — but moved like she didn't need eyes at all.
She tilted her head. "You're awake."
Elric nodded slowly.
"What's your name?" she asked.
He hesitated.
"Thread-burn messed with your memory?" the man asked, folding his arms.
Elric answered. "Elric."
The woman didn't react. Neither did the man.
Good.
No recognition. No knowing glances. Just questions.
"Alright, Elric," the man said, pushing off the wall. "I'm Bram Est. Most call me Needle-Hound. Don't ask why."
The woman gave a polite nod. "Yin Calrith. You may call me Yin."
"Elric…" Bram scratched his cheek. "What the hell were you doing in the Whispering Forest alone?"
"I…" Elric searched for words. "I don't remember how I got there. I just… woke up."
It wasn't a full lie. But it wasn't the truth either.
Bram didn't seem convinced. "You touched the altar. No one touches that thing. You bled on it."
"I was trying to survive," Elric said. "I thought it might help."
"It shouldn't have." Yin's voice was thoughtful. "But it did."
Bram looked annoyed. "We went in tracking a Stitchspawn. Guild contract. Bastard vanished halfway in. Then the threads started writhing, and we felt something… pulse."
He pointed at Elric.
"That was you."
Elric's fingers twitched. The memory of pulling that thread — of forming something that nearly killed him — clawed back into his mind.
"I didn't mean to do anything."
"No one ever does," Yin murmured.
Bram turned to her. "He's just a Stitch, right? No markings, no guild tag, no band. How'd he cause that much disruption?"
Yin didn't answer right away. She stepped closer, as if sensing Elric's shape by his presence alone.
"Maybe he didn't," she said. "Maybe the forest did. Maybe the altar did."
"Or maybe," Bram muttered, "he's just really weird."
Elric said nothing. Let them speculate. He needed time. Information. Safety.
Yin turned. "For now, you'll stay here. This is a Guild outpost near the Second Branch. Nothing special. But it's safe."
Bram added, "And don't get any ideas. The Guild's gonna want answers. We both filed our reports."
Elric nodded.
He could play along — for now.
He had no book.
No threads left.
No idea how the altar worked or why it responded.
But he was alive.
And this was the next step.
Final Scene: The Forest Beyond
Deep within the Whispering Forest, the altar lay silent once more.
Faint glimmers of threadlight danced across its surface.
Then — nothing.
High above, a black-feathered crow landed on a broken arch, tilting its head. It watched. Waited.
Then blinked out of sight.
Below, a single golden thread, invisible to all but the forest, curled faintly along the altar's stone — like a forgotten whisper.
It did not move.
But it remembered.
End of Chapter 5: The Boy at the Altar's End