Morning did not arrive so much as it slipped in quietly, like a thin gray film spread over the world. The Dark Woods did not brighten; its shadows merely softened. The towering trees of black bark and brittle claw-branches still stood like colossal statues, trapping the air in their stagnant silence. Nothing moved. Nothing chirped. Nothing breathed.
Sky opened his eyes first—not because he was rested, but because he had never slept deeply in the first place. Insomnia had carved itself into his bones long ago, another invisible weight he carried like everything else. He sat up slowly, the faint embers of last night's fire casting rust-colored glimmers across his face.
Verrith was awake too, sitting with his knees drawn up, elbows on top, staring at nothing. There was a stiffness in the way he breathed—too careful, too steady. Sky didn't need to be a genius to recognize someone who had freshly lost a fight against their own mind.
Tervain who had been awake the whole night had acted like he just woke up. His joints popped, unnecessarily loud. "Ahh. Another beautiful morning in the woods of horrifying silence."
Sky didn't respond. Verrith didn't laugh. Tervain raised a brow.
"Someone died while I was lying here not-sleeping?"
"No," Verrith said quietly.
Sky stood, brushing dirt off his coat. "We should move."
He didn't look at Verrith, but he didn't need to. The internal storm from last night still clung to the air—regret, anger, shame, all tangled together. Sky had heard Verrith's whispered breakdown, even though he pretended he hadn't. Every word. The frustration. The bitterness at his own softness. The final, quiet plea in the dark—
–Why won't you let me be kind?
And the answer he had given himself,
–Because I am not.
Sky didn't know what to do with that. Didn't know if it was his responsibility to do anything. Tervain's undead cheeriness was only beginning to notice the cracks.
Verrith tied his satchel and stood. "Let's go."
They moved.The Dark Woods swallowed them again. The deeper they went, the worse the pressure became—an atmospheric weight that felt like the world was leaning down, listening. The ground was damp and uneven, roots coiling like the fingers of buried giants.
Verrith walked ahead, mechanically precise. Sky kept a step behind him. Tervain hummed some old tune he probably didn't remember the origin of.
[He's doing it again.]
Sky stiffened.The shadow unfolded subtly along the edge of a nearby tree, its silhouette flickering in the faint light like ink melting into shape. Only Sky could see it. Only Sky could hear it.
[He thinks silence will fix it. That ignoring the wound will make it disappear.]
A pause, [Predictably incorrect.]
Sky muttered under his breath. "Shut up."
[Why?]
'Because I don't want to deal with this.'
[Yet you are dealing with it.]
A soft, needling tone.
[You are watching him. Assessing him. Calculating a response you pretend you don't intend to give.]
Sky didn't answer. He tightened his grip on his bag and brought his pace in line with Verrith's.
After a long stretch of quiet, Sky finally spoke, his voice rough:
"…Did you sleep?"
Verrith walked another ten steps before he answered.
"No."
Tervain glanced back with exaggerated shock. "What?! You mean the terrifying forest filled with invisible monsters who eat the guts of people who snore too loud wasn't relaxing?"
Verrith didn't react.
Tervain lowered his voice. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
Sky could hear it—the brittle edge, the quiet tremor of someone holding themselves together by hand-woven thread.
He tried again. "If you want—"
"I said I'm fine."
Sky closed his mouth. The Shadow clicked its nonexistent tongue at him.
[Predictable failure.]
Sky resisted the urge to make a remark about the shadow.
They kept walking.
Even when Verrith was lost in thought at times. His dream still clung to him.
The old Tervain's voice.
The warmth, The ink, The word kind.
The idea that maybe—just maybe—he could be the person he once wanted to be.
And then his own voice from this morning:
"Because I am not."
He hated how instinctive the answer had been. He hated that he couldn't stop being angry at himself. He hated that the dream had felt so… good.
And he hated, more than anything, that a part of him wanted it back.
He clenched his jaw until it hurt.
— ✦ —
Two hours later, the forest finally began to thin. The oppressive black pillars gave way to sparse trees, then shorter ones, then finally—open ground.
The sudden absence of shadows felt almost wrong.
Ahead, rising from the dirt like the last ribs of a dying beast, were the remnants of a wall. The outer gate of what was once the Everlasting Kingdom's third perimeter. A massive stone structure, twelve meters tall, built by hands that no longer existed. It was cracked through the center, shattered on the left side, vines swallowing the ruins whole.
And standing atop a broken portion of the wall was a figure.
Gray coat. Boots caked in dried dirt. A metal harness strapped to his side, holding a revolver that didn't look like any gun Sky had ever seen. The barrel was reinforced with spiraling grooves; the cylinder glimmered with faint engraving—runes, or something similar. A small pouch of bullets made from an odd material giving it a dark look hung from his waist.
He raised the weapon.
"Stop right there."
His voice was emotionless, carrying down the slope like a blade.
Verrith raised a hand. "Skelra."
The man blinked and after some staring said, "…Verrith?"
Verrith nodded.
Skelra jumped down the rubble with practiced ease, dust rising beneath his boots. Up close, he looked even more dangerous, his eyes were always focused and he had short white hair.
"Damn it, you should've sent a signal or something. I almost shot the tall one." He tilted his head toward Tervain. "He looks like trouble."
"He is," Verrith answered.
Tervain blinked. "Hey—"
"And you," Skelra said, turning to Sky, squinting as if trying to figure him out. "You look like you haven't slept well in ten years."
"Seven," Sky muttered.
Then, his eyes finally settled back on Verrith.
"What happened to you? You look like you have been haunted by a ghost.
Verrith stiffened. "Just tired."
"You can come through. And for the love of the gods we don't have, Verrith…" He reached into his coat, "Use this next time you want to sleep."
He tossed something. Verrith caught it.
Verrith looked at the bottle for a long moment before pocketing it.
"Thank you."
A small bottle. Dark blue liquid. Thick, almost syrup-like. Sky had seen it once before—rare, costly, and extremely difficult to find.Tervain raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "What is that?"
Skelra shrugged. "Something between medicine and pure stupidity. But it works."
Verrith pocketed it without question.
He scanned Sky, then Tervain, then Sky again. The revolver didn't lower.
"You picked strange companions," Skelra muttered. "Especially him." He pointed toward Tervain.
"As you can see," Tervain said with an exaggerated bow, "I am incredibly trustworthy."
"That's exactly why I don't trust you," Skelra muttered.
Skelra exhaled. Some of the hardness in his posture eased. Not much, but enough.
"You three can go through. But be careful. The inside is… dangerous." He paused, eyeing them carefully. "More dangerous than it was the last time we met, Verrith."
Sky narrowed his eyes. "Dangerous how?"
Skelra looked at him directly for the first time.
"You'll see."
Then he stepped aside.
— ✦ —
Sky glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
He still looked pale. He still looked tired.
Still looked like the remnants of his dream were clinging to him like cold ash.
Tervain scratched his head. "Sooo… that guy wasn't planning to shoot us, right?"
Verrith answered quietly. "If I hadn't spoken first, he would've."
Sky's shadow flickered.
[He's unraveling.]
Sky exhaled slowly, feeling that familiar pressure in his chest—the urge to help, the fear of overstepping, the exhaustion of caring and pretending not to.
"You should use that bottle when we stop," Sky said.
Verrith didn't look at him. "Maybe."
Tervain nudged him lightly with an elbow. "And maybe pigs will climb trees."
Verrith didn't react.
Sky watched him walk ahead toward the broken remains of the Kingdom's outer district, the ruins stretching like a graveyard beyond the gate.
The morning felt heavier.
Not because of the forest.
Not because of the monsters.
But because the cracks inside Verrith hadn't healed—they had only learned how to hide.
And Sky wasn't sure which of them would break first.
As they walked through the city, they saw the place.
Buildings made of scavenged wood and stone created a loose settlement. The roads were misshapen, patched, and uneven. Smoke rose from fire pits. Makeshift cloth awnings stretched between walls. People moved slowly, cautiously, each step careful, their movements deliberate.
But their eyes—
Sky stiffened.
Their eyes were strange.
Not hollow, not glowing… just off. As if the soul behind them flickered. As if life hadn't left, but was thinking about leaving soon.
Some pupils looked too large.Some were too small.Some didn't track movement properly.
The smallest children had the healthiest eyes; the oldest had the worst.
Tervain's expression tightened, Sky kept observing.
Verrith walked without comment—he had seen this too many times.
A thin woman with trembling fingers stirred a pot of something gray over a fire. A boy with a broken arm carried water with his teeth clenched. An elderly man sat on stone steps staring into the sky with a gaze that saw nothing.
Everyone kept their distance. Everyone noticed Verrith. And everyone noticed the strangers with him.
And after weaving through several alleys, Verrith led them to a larger structure—a stone building, two stories tall, its roof patched with metal slabs and wooden beams.
It looked like it used to be an administrative building before the fall.
Now it was a fortress.
A meeting place.
A refuge.
Verrith opened the heavy wooden door with three locks on it.
They stepped in.
The interior was dim, lit by a few lanterns and a large fire toward the center. A table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by several figures—some sitting, some standing.
As soon as Verrith entered, the discussion stopped.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward them.
Across the table stood a woman with short brown hair, her face covered in scars and burn marks. One of her eyes was clouded and unmoving; the other was warmly focused. She stepped forward first.
Her smile was tired but kind—kind in the way someone becomes when they choose kindness even when the world punishes them for,
"Verrith, it's nice to see that you're alive…but the other 12 people that went with you don't seem to be here, are they oka-"
"They are dead," Verrith replied, interrupting her.
"I see…" she said, her voice filled with remorse.
"So who's the randoms with you?" the person near to the seat next to the door spoke, it was a girl with long red hair and completely dead eyes—emotionless, unblinking, but not hostile. She leaned casually on a massive hammer that was taller than she was, resting its steel head against the stone floor.
Her expression didn't change. Not even a muscle.
She just stared.
"Sky and Tervain," Verrith introduced. "Temporary allies."
A person peeked at them. "What… um… what do they do?"
The person was beside the odd girl with long red hair, he was a timid boy in long robes, sleeves far too big, hands half-hidden. Black hair covered one eye, and dark circles under both eyes suggested he rarely slept. There was clear indication that he had flinched, then tried to hide behind Rose.
"Odd phrasing but to summarise it, they are strong people who helped me take the broken piece of the white stone" Verrith replied.
"Really? Then I must thank you, although I can't muster up a proper expression of gratitude due to the losses we have just been aware of.," she said, voice soft. "Welcome. I am Luminar."
She bowed her head politely, priest-like despite the world being far past priests.
The timid boy in long robes peeked from behind the red head girl. His hands trembled slightly, as he spoke in a quiet voice, "I'm… Merick,"
The red-haired girl spoke too, voice flat and oddly monotone, "If they cause trouble, I'll smash them."
Sky raised an eyebrow, Tervain stepped behind Sky slightly.
Verrith sighed. "Rose, please don't."
"I won't. Unless they make me."
Luminar gave an apologetic smile. "She means well."
Then the last person in the corner of the table finally stood up from his seat.
a young man with neat clothing, thin-framed glasses, and an expression that was a bit too composed. Skinny shoulders slightly hunched as if from chronic exhaustion.
He moved carefully, deliberately, as though aware of every muscle, as if even the slightly hunched back was a deliberate act.
"I'm Gill, A pleasure," he said, extending his hand toward Sky.
Sky didn't take it. He just studied him.
A flicker of something passed through Gill's eyes—annoyance? Fear? Irritation? It was hard to say, because it vanished too quickly.
Gill lowered his hand, smiling again.
"…shy, perhaps?"
"..." upon being greeted with silence, Gill's demeanour changed slightly, His voice became soft, slightly trembling — not fear, but instability. The kind of instability that makes people pity you rather than fear you.
He gave a small, apologetic smile.
"I… have trouble controlling myself sometimes. A curse. Sorry if I seem strange."
Sky watched him silently.
There was a flicker — not malice, not deception — more like fragments inside him didn't agree on how to move his face.
Just a man falling apart slowly.
Sky didn't trust him.
Sky replied softly. "No. I just found you rather odd."
Something in Gill's cheek twitched. Sky noticed.
Verrith looked between them with a hint of concern.
Luminar stepped in to ease the mood. "Forgive Gill. He struggles with… stability."
Gill gave a soft, almost humble nod. "Yeah my curse. My personality… fluctuates because of it."
Sky's eyes narrowed.
He.Lie.Liar the voice behind the sky spoke.
[Not fully a lie, maybe. But not the truth either.] the shadow flickered and said.
Merick pulled on Luminar's sleeve. "Do we trust them?"
Luminar placed a gentle hand on his head. "We trust Verrith."
Merick nodded reluctantly.
Rose walked up to Sky, staring him dead in the eyes without blinking.
"You look like you haven't slept well for 7 years," she said.
Sky stared back. "…I know."
She nodded, satisfied.
Tervain snorted.
Gill watched all of this very carefully.
Too carefully.
Gill stepped forward slightly, adjusting his glasses with a shaking hand.
"Sorry if I don't… function well today," he said quietly. "Some days are harder."
Sky's eyes softened despite himself.
He didn't trust Gill. But the man didn't look manipulative — he looked like someone barely holding his mind together.
Still…
Sky noticed something tiny, A momentary stiffness in Gill's expression and the corner of his eyes, a hesitation that didn't match the rest of his pitiful demeanor.
Not enough to accuse him. Not enough to call him dangerous. Just enough to make the shadow file a mental note, [Something about him doesn't add up. But he looks too broken to fake everything.]
Sky said nothing.
Gill gave him an apologetic half-smile.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I hope I don't make you uncomfortable."
Tervain shook his head kindly. "You don't."
Sky didn't comment.
"Hmm…," a new voice sounded, it was the leader. "Well I'm late and Skelra is still on the lookout so I guess we should just talk about fixing the white stone."