Kai's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
The snake's body lay limp on the ground, its blood already cooling, but the poison it carried was alive—alive and racing through his mother's veins.
Her breathing was growing shallow. Too shallow.
What do I do? What do I do?!
"Kai…" Asha's voice was soft, almost teasing, though her lips were pale. "You're making that face again. The one where you think you have to face the whole world by yourself."
He didn't hear her—not really. His mind tore through every scrap of knowledge he had, every half-remembered survival trick, every useless scrap of hope.
Cut the wound open? No—he didn't know how deep the venom had gone.
Make a poultice? He didn't have the right herbs—hell, he didn't even know the right herbs.
Suck out the venom? Too late. He'd tried. Her skin was still losing color.
Think, think, THINK—!
His eyes darted to the point above her elbow. He could cut it off. If the poison hadn't spread too far—
His stomach turned violently. He saw her blood spraying, her scream echoing in his skull, the light draining from her eyes… not from the venom, but from his own hand.
He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms, shaking his head to rid himself of such ominous thoughts. "No… I won't hurt you. I won't."
But he could slow it down.
The thought flashed like lightning, and he tore at the basket behind Asha until his fingers found a length of rope.
His hands worked fast, wrapping it high around her arm, twisting it until it bit into her skin. The muscles in her forearm twitched, and her breath hitched.
"This will hurt," he muttered, voice shaking. "But it'll keep the venom from—"
"I know," she interrupted softly, her voice faint but steady. "Do it."
He pulled tighter. Her face paled even more, but she didn't cry out.
It was a stopgap, nothing more. He knew it. She knew it. And still—still—he had nothing else.
His mind circled back to the same place.
It won't be enough!
She reached out with surprising steadiness, her fingers brushing his cheek. "You're scaring yourself, Kai. Don't. You've always been so serious… too serious. Even now, you're blaming yourself."
"Because it is my fault!" The words came out raw, cracked. "I'm supposed to protect you! I should have—should have seen it—should have—"
The roar of clashing beasts echoed behind them, but he didn't care. The world narrowed to the faint rise and fall of her chest.
Watching the distress and anguish tearing through her son's face filled her heart with warmth at his care, but also broke it in two for being the cause of his pain.
Overwhelmed with emotions, she tried to put on a brave face, but even she couldn't suppress all her tears.
There was nothing she could say so she hugged her son tightly, offering physical comfort as she stroked the back of his head like she used to do when he was a small child.
"Please…" he whispered—not to her, not entirely to himself either. "Please… not her. Not my mother. Take me instead, curse me, strike me, just not her!"
And then… something stirred.
As if in response to his desperate emotions.
It was not sound. Not sight. Not thought.
A warmth bloomed deep inside him, almost painful in its suddenness. Like roots breaking through stone, like sap surging upward after a long winter.
His head snapped up.
There was a pull—gentle but impossible to ignore—pointing somewhere deeper into the forest.
Kai blinked. "What…?"
Can it… save her?
The question wasn't spoken aloud, but the answer came—a wash of emotion that was not his own. A steady, green warmth, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Yes.
He didn't question it. He couldn't.
Without another word, he slid his arms under Asha, breaking their hug, and lifted her onto his back. She was so light it hurt him. "Hold on, Mom. Just… hold on a little longer. There might be a way."
"Alright," she softly acquiesced, feeling her body growing weaker.
He felt her breath against his neck, faint but still there.
And then he ran.
He didn't know how far. He didn't know what waited. He only knew the direction, and that was enough.
Branches lashed across his cheeks, drawing thin lines of blood. Thorns tore at his forearms and snagged his clothes.
Roots rose like snakes to snatch at his ankles, but his feet found their way with an almost uncanny precision, every step landing where it needed to.
His body moved in a rhythm he didn't remember learning, as if the forest itself had mapped out a path under his skin.
His senses and muscles worked in perfect unison now, but not from training—not entirely. The urgency in his chest, the pounding of his heart, drove him past limits he didn't even know he had.
He wasn't thinking about fatigue. He wasn't thinking about pain. He wasn't even thinking about the beasts that roared somewhere behind him.
He only thought: Faster. Faster.
A shadow burst from the ferns at his side—a broad, furred predator with glinting eyes and a snarling maw. He planted a foot on its back mid-lunge and vaulted over it without breaking stride.
Something hissed above; a serpent, coiled and striking. He ducked low, its fangs swiping empty air, and kept running.
A patch of ground gave way beneath him, revealing a nest of snapping, centipede-like creatures as long as his arm.
He vaulted past, but one still managed to clamp its mandibles onto his calf before tearing free. Pain flared white-hot, but he didn't slow.
Not for that. Not for anything.
His lungs burned as though he'd inhaled fire. His legs felt heavy as iron. But he didn't stop.
Not while her breaths came slower against his back.
Not while her skin grew colder by the heartbeat.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt that strange pull again—no, not a pull, a direction. It was different from his own instincts, sharper, more certain.
The same strange sense that had flared to life in his most desperate moment now guided him like an invisible thread.
He didn't know why. He didn't know how.
Is this because of the tree?
The thought slipped in between breaths.
The one I… merged with? Became part of?
He had no answers. No time to find them. All he could tell was that this presence inside him wasn't trying to harm him.
And right now, that was enough.
The forest began to change.
Trees grew older here—so massive they seemed like pillars holding up the sky. Their gnarled roots rose like the ribs of buried giants, forcing him to leap, climb, and weave his way through.
Vines hung in thick curtains, swaying not with wind, but as though they had minds of their own. Twice, they nearly caught him, forcing him to twist away mid-stride.
The air grew heavier, denser, and the light dimmed to a deep green glow. Every step forward seemed to resist him, as though the forest itself wanted him to turn back.
The roots formed barriers, the branches tangled into walls. Thorned shrubs blocked narrow passages, and in one place, a fallen log covered in a writhing carpet of venomous insects forced him to scramble up a slick rock face instead.
By the time he realized he was close—so close—he was slick with sweat, cuts stinging across his skin, and his breath tearing in his chest. But the presence inside him urged him on, relentless.
"Hold on, mom," he whispered, his voice ragged as he glanced back at Asha's limp head against his shoulder. "Please… just hold on."
One last barrier lay ahead—a wall of brambles so dense it seemed impenetrable.
He gritted his teeth, hunched low, and forced himself through. Thorns raked his arms and shoulders, but then—
Light.
He stumbled forward and froze.
The world beyond the brambles was… unreal.
A hidden grove stretched out before him, alive with impossible beauty.
Every leaf shimmered as if etched in silver. Flowers of colors he had no name for bloomed in profusion, releasing motes of glowing pollen that drifted like slow, golden snow.
Vines glowed faintly, tracing patterns in the air, and insects with glassy, iridescent wings floated between blossoms, leaving trails of light behind them.
The air hummed faintly—not with wind, but with something deeper, as if the ground itself sang.
Kai took a step, almost in awe.
Why here?
The thought flashed unbidden.
Is there a plant here that can heal her?
He adjusted his hold on Asha and began walking toward the grove's center. His eyes darted from one strange bloom to another, scanning for anything that might be medicine.
Then the grove moved.
Branches shifted. Leaves shivered—not from breeze, but from intent. Flowers turned their faces toward him, and roots curled slowly out of the earth as if stretching after a long sleep.
From the thick trunk of a massive tree ahead, a shape pulled free—a woman-shaped figure, her hair tumbling in cascades of green, her skin the warm shade of sunlit wood, and her eyes glowing with the deep, watchful green of an ancient forest.
She stepped forward, every movement fluid but tense, her gaze locked on Kai. And the stance she took was not one of welcome, but of challenge.
Kai's heart thundered in his ears.
He shifted his grip on his unconscious mother, holding her closer. "I don't want trouble," he murmured, his voice low, breathless. "I'm just… trying to save her."
But the figure didn't relax, only regarding him with a wary gaze as thick vines started gathering around him as if he entered a den of pythons.
And Kai realized—he'd just stepped into a place that might kill him before he could even ask for help.