Norian woke to a stench that hit like a punch, sharp and rancid, like rotting flesh stewing in wet mud.
"Ugh."
No birdsong filled the air, no warm sunlight kissed his face. Just that smell, heavy and cloying, worming into his lungs.
He groaned, his head pounding as he rubbed his eyes and sat up, blinking into the cave's dimness. His gaze drifted to the forest beyond the entrance, and his breath caught—
Hiss.
His heart slammed against his ribs—
Thump-thump
—eyes widening as his mind scrambled to make sense of what he saw.The forest was dead again. The glowing, vibrant wonderland of last night—the pulsing trees, the shimmering butterflies, the sweet hum of life—was gone. Nothing.
Silence pressed down, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint drip-drip of water somewhere deep in the swamp. The canopy, once alive with prismatic light, was now a snarled tangle of gnarled branches, choking out the pale morning sun.
No glowing moss clung to the trunks, no luminescent vines curled upward. The ground was a slick mess of decayed leaves, reeking of rot.
"What the hell?"
It was the same forest he'd fled through yesterday, hunted by the Mire Golem, its oppressive darkness unchanged, untouched by the magic he'd sworn he'd tasted, felt, lived.
'Was it… all a dream?'
Norian staggered to his feet, legs trembling—
Wobble-wobble
—and shuffled toward the cave's narrow entrance. Each step echoed on the loose gravel, his wide eyes locked on the forest. The morning light was weak, fractured, fighting a losing battle against the shadows.
He stood at the threshold, mouth hanging open, breath hitching as the truth clawed at him. The forest hadn't changed. It was as if last night—the golden fruit, the healing stream, the moon's impossible glow—had never happened.
'No. No way. It was so real.'
His heart pounded harder, a frantic drumbeat—
Thump-thump-thump
—that made his chest ache. His mind spiraled, thoughts crashing like a storm.
'What if it was all fake? The berries, the water, the… the hope. Was it just some fucked-up trick?'
A memory surged, unbidden, sharp as a blade. He was seven, stepping into the Veltharion orphanage for the first time, a skinny kid with too-big eyes and no one to call family.
The air smelled of old wood and soup, not rot, and the other kids didn't shy away. Not yet. They looked at him, smiled even, their voices bright with chatter as they played.
"Hey, new kid, you like games?"
For a few weeks, he was just Norian—not a curse, not a ghost, just a boy. At night, the caretakers gathered them in the common room, reading ghost stories from tattered books, their voices low and theatrical.
"The spirits of Veltharion weave illusions, luring the unwary with beauty…"
The stories were meant to be fun, a spooky ritual to lull them to sleep, but they sank into Norian's bones. One night, sneaking to the washroom in the dark, he'd heard a whisper—
"Boo!"
—and spun to see another kid, grinning, draped in a sheet. The others laughed, but Norian's heart had stopped, his scream trapped in his throat. The prank was nothing, just kids being kids, but the fear lingered, a scar that throbbed whenever he heard those stories of ghosts crafting false worlds to trap you.
In Veltharion, folklore painted spirits as cruel deceivers, and that night had carved a deep, quiet terror into him.What if it was a ghost? What if this forest is one of their tricks, just like those stories?His knees buckled, and he stumbled back—
Thud
—collapsing against the cave wall. He curled into a tight ball, knees pressed to his chest, arms wrapped around himself as if he could hold his fracturing mind together.
Shake-shake.
His body trembled, not from cold but from a bone-deep fear that clawed at his core. The forest's silence was a denial, a cruel lie that mocked the peace he'd felt last night.
'It was so vivid. The taste of those berries, the water stitching my wounds… I felt alive.'
He touched his face, fingers tracing the faint, silvery scars where cuts had been. These are real. They have to be. But his mind refused to settle, drowning in a maze of uncertainty. The orphanage memory pulsed again—the caretaker's voice,
"Ghosts show you what you want, then take it away…"
—and it chilled him, a shiver racing down his spine.
'What if this place is messing with me? What if I'm still that scared kid, falling for a lie?'
His head spun, thoughts chaotic, untethered.
'I'm losing it. I'm fucking losing it.'
The forest's decay seemed to seep into him, mirroring the self-loathing he'd carried for years—the taunts of "cursed," the beatings, the eyes that slid past him in Veltharion.
'Was I stupid to think I could be more? To believe I wasn't cursed?'
His breath came in ragged gasps—huff-huff—each one sharp, like shards in his lungs. He pressed his forehead to his knees, tears stinging his eyes—
Drip-drip
—not from sadness but from raw, overwhelming panic. The hope he'd tasted last night—the belief that he could be whole, seen, worthy—crumbled under the weight of doubt.
'What if none of it was real? What if I'm still just… nothing?'
The forest's silence screamed louder than his memories, insisting it was all a lie, a ghostly trick from those Veltharion tales.The cave's cold stone pressed against his back, grounding him just enough to keep him from unraveling completely.
He forced his eyes open, staring at the forest's unchanging gloom.
'It felt real. The water, the fruit… I felt it.'
His fingers dug into his arms, nails biting skin, as he tried to anchor himself.
'I'm not that kid anymore. I survived the Golem. I survived yesterday.'
But the fear was relentless, a knife-twist in his chest that made him want to scream. The orphanage prank, the folklore, the years of being called cursed—they all collided, whispering that this forest, this hope, was just another illusion meant to break him.
'If it was a dream, then what's the point? Why am I even here?'
He rocked slightly, shivering, his mind a battlefield of fear and doubt. But somewhere, deep beneath the panic, a small spark flickered—the memory of the moon's glow, the taste of that golden fruit, the water's healing embrace.
'It was real. It had to be.'
He clung to it, fragile as it was, because letting go meant surrendering to the darkness again—the darkness of Veltharion, of the orphanage, of himself. And he wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.
*****
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
✶ Dimension Walker ✶
✧ The Veiled Paragon ✧
⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
*****
Norian's mind was a tornado, thoughts spinning out of control, tearing at the fragile hope he'd clung to last night.
'Was it real? The glowing trees, the healing water… or just some fucked-up trick?'
He sat curled in the cave's corner, knees pressed to his chest, trembling—
Shake-shake
—as his brain wrestled with the forest's betrayal. The scars on his face, faint and silvery, proved the water's magic, but the decaying forest outside screamed it was all a lie.
'I felt alive. I felt… me.'
Four hours of mental warfare—doubt, fear, hope, despair—had left him raw, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He didn't remember falling asleep, only the weight of panic pulling him under, like drowning in his own mind.
A roar shattered the silence—
ROARRR
—deep and guttural, slamming into his chest like a physical blow. Norian's eyes snapped open, his heart lurching—
Thump-thump-thump
—as if the sound had punched through his ribs.
'What the fuck was that?'
The cave walls seemed to vibrate, the air heavy with the beast's presence, though he couldn't tell where it came from. His breath hitched—
Huff-huff
—sweat beading on his brow despite the damp chill. The roar came again, louder, closer—
ROARRR
—followed by a piercing scream, raw and pained, like something massive was being torn apart.
'Oh God, oh God.'
His hands clamped over his ears, but the sound burrowed into his skull, relentless. Then, silence. The forest swallowed the noise, as if nothing had happened, its eerie quiet returning like a curtain drawn shut.It's real. It's fucking real.
The realization hit like a shockwave. Yesterday's escape—the Mire Golem's stench, its teeth, the forest's decay—wasn't his imagination. And neither was this.
Something's out there. Something huge.
His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, his chest tight, his vision blurring at the edges.
'What if it's coming for me?'
His mind flashed to the orphanage, that night at seven when he'd crept to the washroom, heart pounding from ghost stories.
"Spirits lure you with beauty, but beasts hunt in the dark…"
The caretaker's words echoed, twisted by the memory of that kid's prank—
"Boo!"
—and the laughter that followed. It hadn't ruined him then, but it left a scar, a fear of unseen things that Veltharion's folklore only deepened.
Now, that fear surged, painting the roar as a beast born from those stories—a monster that could smell his fear, his weakness.
'No, no, no. I can't do this.'
His body shook harder—tremble-tremble—a panic attack clawing its way out. His breath came in shallow, jagged gasps—
huff-huff-huff
—each one burning his throat. His skin felt too tight, his head spinning like he was falling through himself.
'What if it finds me? What if it's already here?'
He scrambled back from the cave's entrance, where he'd been sitting, exposed, vulnerable. 'Stupid, so stupid.'
His bare feet scraped the stone—scrape-scrape—as he wedged himself into a deeper corner, where the shadows might hide him. If something passes by, it won't see me. It can't. His torn t-shirt clung to his sweat-soaked skin, his pants ragged, his feet bare—he hadn't brought clothes, gear, anything.
'Why didn't I prepare?'
In Veltharion, he'd been too lost in self-loathing, too broken to think ahead. Now, that failure fed his panic, his mind conjuring beasts with jagged teeth and glowing eyes, their roars echoing the screams he'd just heard.
'What kind of monster makes a sound like that?'
His thoughts spiraled, imagining claws tearing through the forest, a creature massive enough to shake the earth, to scream in pain yet keep hunting.
'I've got nothing. No weapons, no strength. I'm just… me.'
He pressed his hands to his face, nails digging into his cheeks, trying to ground himself, but the panic was relentless.
'I'm gonna die. It's gonna find me, and I'm gonna die.'
His vision tunneled, the cave's walls closing in, his breath so fast it felt like he wasn't breathing at all—gasp-gasp. His body trembled uncontrollably, muscles twitching, sweat dripping—
Drip-drip
—onto the stone.
He glanced at the entrance, half-expecting a monstrous shape to loom, but saw only the forest's gloom, its weak light barely piercing the darkness.It was afternoon.
The realization hit as he noticed the pale, filtered sunlight. He must've passed out from the morning's panic, his mind shutting down under the weight of doubt.
'I was out for hours?'
That scared him more—losing time, losing control. What if something came while I was out? His chest tightened further, a vise squeezing his lungs. The forest's silence was worse than the roar, a promise of more threats waiting, unseen.
But beneath the chaos, a faint spark flickered—the memory of last night's magic, the silvery scars on his skin, the taste of that golden fruit.
'It was real. I know it was.'
He clung to it, desperate, because letting go meant surrendering to the fear, to the boy who'd cowered in Veltharion, believing he was cursed.
'I can't give up. Not yet. But… what do I do?'
He stayed curled in the corner, shivering, his heart still racing, his mind a battlefield of terror and fragile hope. The forest outside waited, silent and unforgiving, as if daring him to face it again.
***
Norian's panic attack clawed at him, a relentless storm in his chest. Something's coming. It's gonna find me. Curled in the cave's darkest corner, he braced for an attack—claws, teeth, the beast whose roar had shaken him awake hours ago. But nothing came.
No footsteps, no growls, just the forest's oppressive silence, broken only by an occasional gust of wind—
Whooosh
—that stirred the decayed leaves outside. The air was heavy, thick with the stench of rot, not the fresh breeze he'd craved. His heart pounded—
Thump-thump-thump
—sweat soaking his torn t-shirt, his bare feet cold against the stone. Why's it so quiet? It's too quiet. His breath came in shallow gasps—
Huff-huff
—his body trembling—
Shake-shake
—as his mind spun with images of monsters lurking just beyond the entrance.
What if it's waiting? What if I move and it sees me?'
The orphanage memory surged again—that night at seven, when a kid's prank had turned ghost stories into a scar.
"Boo!"
The laughter had faded, but the fear hadn't, fed by Veltharion's tales of spirits and beasts that hunted the weak.
"They wait in the dark, watching…"
Now, that fear painted the forest as a trap, the silence a predator's patience. His nails dug into his palms, the pain a frail anchor against the panic.
'I can't do this. I'm not strong enough.'
His vision blurred, tunneling, as his chest tightened, each breath a struggle—
Gasp-gasp.
But the attack he dreaded never came, and the silence stretched, mocking his terror.Hours bled into each other, the cave's gloom deepening as the sun sank.
Norian's eyes, red and raw, caught the fading light at the entrance. Dusk. The sun was nearly gone, painting the sky in streaks of amber and violet, just like yesterday.
Yesterday… when it changed.
A flicker of hope sparked in his chest, fragile but stubborn, refusing to die despite the day's despair.
'What if it was real? The glowing trees, the water… what if it happens again?'
His legs trembled as he uncurled, wincing as his stiff joints protested. He shuffled toward the entrance each step heavy, like wading through fear itself.
'I have to know. I need it to be real.'
His mind was exhausted, a fog of panic and doubt, but he fought the urge to collapse, to let sleep pull him under.
'If I pass out, I might miss it. I might wake up and think it's a dream again.'
The ghost stories echoed—
"Spirits weave illusions…"
—but he pushed them down, clinging to the memory of the golden fruit's taste, the water's healing touch.He reached the entrance, standing on the threshold, his breath shallow—
Hiss.
Tears streaked his face, not from panic now but from a desperate hope, like waiting for someone lost to return.
'Please. Let it be real.'
His eyes, flushed and stinging, locked on the forest as the last sliver of sun vanished.
'Come on. Please.'
He felt like he might faint, his body drained, his mind teetering on the edge of collapse. But he stayed upright, willpower burning through the fog.
'I won't give up. Not yet.'
Then, it began.The forest stirred, as if waking from a long, restless sleep.
Hummm.
A faint glow sparked in the trees, veins of emerald, sapphire, and amethyst pulsing along their bark. Shimmer-shimmer. Leaves unfurled, their edges kissed by light, replacing the decay with vibrant green.
Moss crept over the ground, glowing softly, banishing the rot. Birds with prismatic wings flitted through the canopy, their songs weaving a melody that warmed Norian's chest.
Butterflies spiraled upward—violet, turquoise, crimson—
flutter-flutter
—their wings brushing the air like a soft promise. The stench of decay lifted, replaced by a crisp, sweet scent, like dew and blooming flowers.
Whooosh.
A gentle breeze swept through, carrying the forest's pulse, its life.Norian's knees buckled—
Thud
—and he sank to the ground, tears streaming down his face—
Drip-drip.
Not despair, not panic, but overwhelming relief. It's real.
'Oh God, it's real.'
His chest heaved with sobs—
Hic-hic
—each one releasing the fear, the doubt, the weight of Veltharion's curses.
'I wasn't wrong. It wasn't a ghost, wasn't a dream.'
The forest's glow bathed him, its light reflecting in his tear-filled eyes, a mirror of the hope he'd fought to keep. But with the relief came a quiet sadness, a ache that settled in his bones.
'This place… it doesn't need me.'
The forest had changed before he arrived, and it would change after he left—or died.
'I'm not the hero I thought. I'm just… here.'
The realization stung, a reminder of his smallness, his years of being unseen, unwanted.
'It'll move on without me. Always has.'
But that sadness didn't crush him. It softened him.
'It's okay. It's enough to know it's real.'
The forest's vibrancy—
Shimmer, chirp, hum
—cradled him, its life a balm to his fractured mind. His panic ebbed, his breaths slowing—
Hiss-hiss—his body relaxing for the first time in hours.
'I'm not cursed here. I'm… enough.'
He wiped his tears, a shaky smile breaking through—
Sniff
—as he watched a fox-like creature with starlit fur scamper past—
patter-patter.
The forest was alive again, and so was he, his mind settling into a fragile calm.
'I don't know what's next. But I'm ready to find out.'
-To Be Continued