Cipher's boots pounded the earth, his arms cradling the trembling girl against his chest. Her cloak—once crimson, now tattered and soaked with mud—hung limp as she buried her face into his shoulder. She wasn't heavy, not compared to the scythe strapped across his back or the responsibility weighing on his heart. But her despair… her despair threatened to crush him.
Behind them, the forest shifted. Trees bent in unnatural arcs, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers, all pointing toward the presence they had just escaped. The Wolf's howl still echoed in the marrow of the woods, vibrating through the air long after its voice had gone silent.
"Don't—" Red's words broke into ragged gasps, "—don't bother… he'll find me… he always does…"
Cipher's grip tightened. Her body shook violently, not just from exhaustion but from something deeper—the belief that this fate was already sealed. That her death wasn't a possibility, but a sentence written long ago.
He slowed, finally stopping. The forest groaned around them, leaves raining down in scarlet flurries, but he ignored it. Gently, he lowered her to the ground, keeping one hand on her shoulder so she wouldn't collapse. Her wide eyes darted to his, confused. She expected him to urge her forward, to keep running.
Instead, he crouched until his gaze met hers, eye level and steady. His voice softened.
"Red," he asked, "do you know what courage is?"
Her lips quivered. "…It's what I don't have."
A sad smile tugged at Cipher's mouth. He shook his head. "No. Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's walking forward even when you're afraid. It's holding on to your story even when everything tries to take it from you."
She blinked, stunned silent. The words cut through the fog of terror choking her.
Behind them, the forest shivered with whispers. The girl is eaten. The story ends.
Red clutched her torn cloak, tears threatening. "But the story… it says I die. That's how it goes. Everyone knows it."
Cipher's gaze was sharp now, filled with something that pushed back against the oppressive dark. "Then we'll change the story."
The Automaton stirred from Cipher's shoulder, its tiny metal body shifting, glowing eyes blinking faintly. Its voice was soft, almost reverent."You ripple against the narrative, Teacher. Words spoken here shape more than her heart—they bend the tale itself."
Cipher didn't answer it, his attention wholly fixed on the girl. "Red," he said, lowering his voice, steady as the calm inside a storm, "I don't care what this 'story' says. You're still breathing. That means your page isn't finished. Do you understand?"
Her lower lip trembled. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to. But the forest hissed again— She is eaten. She is gone. The end is written.
Her hands went to her ears, as if to block it out. "I can't—I can't fight that!"
Cipher's palm pressed gently over hers, pulling her hands down. He leaned in, whispering, "Then don't fight it alone."
The words seemed to strike something deep within her, like a spark hitting dry kindling. Her breath came sharp, uneven, but her eyes no longer looked as hollow. There was a flicker there—a faint ember of defiance.
And then the Wolf came.
The air dropped into a suffocating chill. Trees bent backward as if in supplication. From the shadows, massive paws pressed against the earth, the weight of them cracking roots and soil alike. The Wolf's form was stitched together from shadow and bone, ember eyes burning with hunger. Its mouth opened and out came broken words, like a record cracked but still spinning:
"Little… girl… in red… eaten… eaten… again…"
Red froze, horror clutching her. Cipher rose to his full height, placing himself between her and the beast. His scythe slipped into his hand with a whisper of steel, runes flickering like stars across its obsidian length.
The Wolf lowered its head, maw yawning wide, a cavern of teeth and shadow deeper than the forest itself. The whispers rose in chorus, screaming now— She is eaten! The end is written!
Cipher slashed his scythe once, a silver arc slicing through the dark. Shadows hissed, split apart, but the Wolf simply reformed. A story does not die from a single cut.
The Automaton's voice was grave. "You cannot kill it here. Not yet."
Cipher already knew. His teeth grit as the Wolf surged forward, its maw snapping down with the inevitability of a closing book.
He reached for Red, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close as the world was swallowed whole.
Darkness.
But not silence.
The whispers followed them down the Wolf's throat, an endless chant spiraling deeper: The girl is eaten. The girl is eaten. The story ends.
When Cipher's vision returned, they were standing—not inside flesh, but in a world gone wrong.
The ground was black, slick like glass, reflecting fragments of a broken forest. Furniture floated in the void—grandmother's bed, her door, a basket of food. Above, the sky churned with shadow, stitched together like the Wolf's hide.
Red's knees buckled. "We're inside him…"
Cipher steadied her, eyes scanning the surreal nightmare. "No. We're inside the story. Its belly is just where the tale traps what it swallows."
The Automaton flickered, wings of light briefly extending from its back. "A tale devours what it claims is its truth. This is the graveyard of her courage."
The whispers intensified, forming shapes. Shadowy wolves crawled forth from the black ground, each one bearing Cipher's face twisted in doubt, eyes empty, scythes dripping with ichor.
Red gasped, stumbling back. "They look like you—!"
Cipher set his scythe to the side, gripping it like a banner instead of a blade. His voice was low, calm, the same tone he used when guiding children through their first trembling steps in a classroom.
"They're not me. They're what fear says I could become." He lifted his scythe. "And I don't bow to fear."
The shadows lunged.
Cipher's blade swept through them, each strike scattering whispers into mist. But every time he felled one, more clawed their way up from the ground. The story refused to let go.
Red trembled behind him, clutching her torn cloak. "We can't win. There's too many—"
"Red." His voice cracked through the chaos. He glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes burning with conviction. "Fear means you're alive. Courage is choosing to live anyway. Say it. Say it now."
Her throat locked. The shadows screamed She is eaten. She is gone.
She clenched her fists, tears streaking her face, and through the tremors of terror she forced the words out.
"I am not just food for the Wolf!"
The stomach-world shuddered.
Her cloak blazed crimson, light rippling across the void. The whispers faltered, and the shadow-wolves hesitated as if something foreign had entered the script.
Cipher allowed himself a rare grin. "There you are."
Red gasped, her cloak shimmering with faint light. The Automaton's eyes widened, recording every flicker. "A power born not from force, but from defiance. Her story bends."
The shadow-wolves recoiled as the crimson glow expanded, pushing them back like a tide. Cipher swung his scythe once more, scattering the closest, and stepped forward beside her.
"Stay with me, Red," he said. "We've got a heart to find."
The shadows parted just enough to reveal it ahead—a massive, distorted version of a grandmother's cottage, its walls breathing like lungs, its windows glowing with hungry fire.
The Wolf's voice thundered from all directions.
"Come… child… come… be eaten… again…"
Red flinched but did not step back this time. She clutched her cloak, the light holding steady, and whispered, "Not this time."
Cipher rested the scythe against his shoulder, eyes locked on the nightmare cottage. His tone was calm, steady, resolute.
"The story doesn't end unless we choose to close the book."
And together, they stepped forward.