They sat in silence for a while, not knowing what to say to each other. Even in the silence, Ren stayed crouched beside her, his fingers still lightly cradled in Eva's.
Neither of them had let go of the other.
Staring at the ground, her voice, when it came, was soft and trembling.
"I...forgot who I was." She looks up at Ren, her eyes still closed shut. "I was ready to forget everything."
Ren's throat tightened at the thought. "I know the feeling."
"You do?"
He nodded slowly.
"There was a moment…not long ago. After one of the many times I—I died. I woke up on my back...bleeding, somewhere cold. Couldn't remember who I was. Just this echo in my head that said, 'It would be easier if you stayed lost.'"
She turns her attention back to the ground. "That's exactly how she whispers."
Ren looked up at the blackened trees above them.
"You don't even realize you're listening. Not at first. It sounds like your own thoughts. Your own voice."
Eva responded, her voice soft and quiet. "She—she told me I was too tired to go on. That I'd earned rest. That no one would blame me if I stayed. But it's not, it's… forgetting."
Ren looked down at his hands, bloody fingers smeared with dirt and ash. "I've wondered if... I'm still me."
Eva studied him quietly, and her voice was barely a breath.
"Are you afraid you've already changed?"
Ren didn't answer right away. Then he whispered.
"I think I'm afraid I haven't changed enough. That I'm still weak enough to want that peace."
Eva's lip trembled, and she lowered her head.
"I still do want it," She admitted to Ren. "Even now. I want to lie down and forget again. I want her arms wrapped around me. She…made it quiet."
Ren shut his eyes tightly.
"Yeah," He whispered. "It was quiet."
Neither of them spoke.
It was the kind of silence that felt sacred.
Then Eva spoke again, shakier this time.
"But if I go back, I won't come back out...I'm afraid of forgetting again." She paused for a moment, building courage to ask. "And I need to know…if I start slipping, will you...pull me out again?"
Ren's eyes widened at the question. "Yes..."
Eva's fingers tightened against his. Even with her closed eyes, she looked at him.
"Then I'll do the same for you."
Ren let out a breath that shuddered in his chest.
For a moment, he didn't feel like a broken boy held together by grief and resolve.
He felt seen, and so did she.
Neither of them said anything poetic. There was no grand speech. Just two people who had come dangerously close to disappearing—and made a quiet, bleeding promise not to let it happen again.
They sat together in the dirt, scarred hands joined, two brittle souls barely holding on.
Ren clenched his fists tightly.
"I'm...going to kill her." He continued, slower this time. "I don't care how many times I have to die to do it."
Eva didn't respond at first.
But he could feel the way her body tensed against his, like the very mention of Mother pulled something tight and aching inside her.
"She'll come for you again," Eva said quietly.
"I know..."
"It'll feel like mercy again."
"So I'll just remember it isn't."
Eva's voice softened into something even more fragile. "What if you forget?"
Ren didn't hesitate to respond. "Then I'll come back worse. And she'll regret letting me live long enough to remember."
The forest said nothing, but Ren was sure it listened.
Eva slowly turned her head, her cheek still streaked with soot and mascara-black tears.
"I think…I know where she really is."
Ren looked at her and asked sternly. "Where?"
"A chapel," Eva whispered, almost like she was afraid to say it out loud. "I saw it when I was still inside her shadow. I didn't understand it at the time, but…I think that's where her real body sleeps."
Ren's expression hardened, looking over to the ghostly horse.
"Then that's where we're going."
He stood first, carefully helping Eva to her feet. She swayed, weak, but there was something firmer in the way she held herself now.
The Pale Horse stepped forward before they called it.
It knelt silently in front of them.
Ren helped Eva up first, then swung up behind her, steadying her gently with one arm as the horse began to trot away.
It moved like it had walked this path before—they passed trees with bark peeled like wounds, stone pillars half-swallowed by moss, and old ruins of buildings that looked like they'd tried to stand against something too quiet and too heavy.
Then, somewhere in the stillness—
Eva whispered, "She's near...the chapel is close."
Ren felt it too, a sudden shift in the air. Like something was waiting for them to come.
And then—
They saw it.
The chapel, suspiciously well-maintained. The spire pierced the sky, its walls lined with grey brick. And the massive open doorway remained untouched, tall, gaping, and dark. As if it were waiting for someone to enter.
Ren got off the horse, walking towards the open doorway slowly.
But something else waited first.
A sloshing sound—wet and slow—echoed from the side of the chapel.
Ren paused his steps, focusing on where the sound was coming from.
From the corner of the building, it emerged.
That slug-like creature from the cave.
Just as grotesque as before—a massive, lurching creature of pale, mucus-slicked flesh, dragging itself forward with wet gasps and twitching appendages. It wheezed loudly, like an infant trying to cry through a broken throat.
Its back was to them.
It didn't notice them at first. It circled in a mindless rhythm, whispering to itself in a loop.
"Come back…come back! Mommy...me hungry!"
But then—
The creature froze.
"Really...food just for me?!" It spoke out, almost like it was talking to someone.
It began to twitch violently. Its head—or what passed for one—lurched upright, spasming as if it had finally sensed the visitors
Then, with a wet lurch, it turned.
"Mommy said I could have you." It squealed with warped excitement, its body convulsing like it could barely contain the joy. "She said—she said I been good, so now I get a treat!"
It was the same uncanny sight that Ren remembered, the ribs split open and curling outward like some horrible blooming flower. Its malformed body dragged closer, long limbs scraping ruts into the dead grass. It shook the ground, slapping down with a meaty thud.
There was no backing down now.
Ren took a step toward the mutated creature, drawing his makeshift dagger.
"I know you're watching...I know you've been listening this entire time." Ren takes another step forward. "Just know this...I'm going to destroy you're abomination of a child...And once I'm done with him, I'm going to do the same thing to you...Mother."
Now, the only thing left standing between the Mother of Sorrow and Ren was the grotesque formation of corpses.