Ash swirled with every step Mike took, the scorched earth crumbling under his bare feet. The wind carried the smell of burned flesh and molten stone, mixed with the faint tang of ozone. His breaths came in ragged pulls, each one dragging the whispers deeper into his skull.
She fears you…
You'll burn them all…
Kur is not a savior.
Mike's teeth clenched hard enough to ache. He staggered, then dropped to his knees, fists slamming into the ground. The cracked soil split beneath the blows, each strike sending a tremor across the desolate hillside. A scream ripped from his throat, sometimes human, sometimes the deep, resonant bellow of a dragon, both voices bleeding into each other until they were indistinguishable.
The sound carried for miles, echoing across shattered forests and ruined villages.
Shapes moved ahead, demons, gaunt and snarling, blades of bone clutched in skeletal hands. Mike started forward, but the ground shifted. A forest of roots erupted from the soil, twisting together like spears. They drove through the demons in an instant, impaling them mid-step. Black blood sprayed across the dirt as the roots writhed and pulled back, the bodies slumping lifeless to the ground.
From between the trees emerged a towering figure, its body formed from interwoven bark and sinew, crowned with branches like antlers. Its eyes glowed a cold, unnatural blue. For a moment it only looked at Mike, unmoving, then without a word it turned, disappearing into the treeline. The forest swallowed it whole.
Mike kept walking.
Half the trees were gone, the other half blackened skeletons reaching for the sky. He stumbled until his back found the rough bark of a leaning trunk. He was still catching his breath when movement in the distance caught his eye, a hut perched atop two massive, scaly chicken legs striding between the trees. The legs moved with an eerie grace, each step silent despite their size.
Mike blinked. Rubbed his temples. Looked again.
Gone.
The whispers surged. His skull felt too small for the noise inside it. He grunted, slamming his head back against the tree again and again until spots filled his vision.
He pushed forward, but his legs finally betrayed him. He collapsed onto the cold ground.
When his eyes opened again, the silence struck first. No whispers. Just the rasp of his own breath and the pounding of his heart in his ears. His vision flickered between mortal sight and something sharper, brighter, threads of divine energy crawling across everything. Rage bubbled beneath his ribs. Fear tangled with it.
The same panic from the moment he'd emerged from Bahamut's trial rushed back, raw and suffocating. His arms trembled. The pain at the base of his skull returned in a sharp wave. He stayed on the forest floor, unable to will himself upright, forcing his breaths to slow.
He barely noticed the sound of movement to his left until he turned.
His chest hollowed out. His stomach twisted.
Hunter stood there.
Just as Mike had last seen him in the cabin, shredded and broken. Blood streamed from the open wounds, soaking the earth beneath his feet. His eyes locked on Mike without blinking.
Mike's lips parted. The words came out jagged.
"Hunter… I am sorry."
More figures formed from the haze, women and children Mike recognized from the refugee camp. Their faces were pale, hollow-eyed. Their bodies bore the marks of slaughter.
Mike shook. His skin burned. Then the dragon burst out.
The roar that followed split the forest. Trees toppled. The ground cracked open beneath his claws. It wasn't a roar of victory or dominance, it was grief, pure and consuming. A sound that carried every ounce of sorrow he had been trying to bury deep within.
When the last echo faded, the clearing was empty. Hunter and the others were gone.
Mike shifted back to human form. His cheeks were wet. He didn't remember crying. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails tore skin. Blood dripped to the dirt.
He stayed there for a long moment, shoulders heaving, before forcing himself to move.
Still drowning in rage, grief, and the endless weight of what he'd seen, Mike staggered forward into the broken woods.
Mike's steps grew slower, each one dragging his feet through the damp ash. The whispers had returned, weaker now but sharper like knives across the inside of his skull. His lungs burned. Every breath tasted of soot.
You failed them.
You'll fail them again.
Kur doesn't protect. Kur consumes.
The forest around him thinned into charred stumps and patches of mud. The sky hung low and dark, thunder muttering somewhere far away. His body ached with the weight of divine energy he'd been forcing through it since the moment he stepped out of the Underworld.
Finally, his knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, palms sinking into the cold wet earth. The fight went out of his muscles. His vision tunneled. The trees blurred into a smear of black and grey.
He lay there, his cheek against the mud, the scent of rot and rain filling his lungs. He could still hear his heartbeat pounding like war drums inside his head, but his limbs wouldn't move.
It was almost peaceful.
Until the ground began to vibrate.
It was faint at first, just a steady rhythm, slow and deliberate, like someone walking with massive weight. Mike forced one eye open.
Through the haze, he saw shapes moving at the treeline. Tall. Wrong. Their bodies seemed to bend and shift with every step, as if the air around them couldn't decide what they were made of. The shadows peeled away as one came closer.
It wasn't a demon.
And it wasn't a god.
The figure crouched beside him, its movements silent. Mike saw pale, bark-like skin stretched over a skeletal frame, and eyes that glowed eerie blue. A smell like pine sap and rain rolled off it in waves. It tilted its head as if studying him, then reached out one long, clawed hand.
Mike tried to move, tried to burn it but nothing happened. His body was done.
The creature's hand touched his chest.
Heat spread from the point of contact, not burning but deep and heavy, sinking into his bones. For a moment the whispers in his head cracked apart, like a window shattering. He could almost breathe.
The blue eyes blinked once.
Then it spoke, its voice a low, resonant murmur like wood groaning in the wind.
"Found you."
And the world went black.