The forest was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet either — more like the kind that waits for something to go wrong.
A faint breeze pushed through the canopy, stirring golden dust from the trees. Light spilled between the branches, warm and soft, but Alaric still felt uneasy. Every few minutes, his mana stirred on its own — reacting to something he couldn't see.
He stopped by a small stream and crouched, dipping his hand into the cool water. Ripples shimmered across the surface, reflecting his faintly pale face.
Snow-white hair. Golden eyes. Dirt on his cheek.
"Man, I look like a ghost that just crawled out of a grave," he muttered.
From behind him, Ashen's voice came calm and low, as always.
"Then perhaps you should avoid falling face-first into the mud."
Alaric turned slightly, lips twitching. "That was one time."
Ashen didn't answer, which made it worse. He just stood there — tall, pale, immaculate as ever, his dark butler-like coat somehow spotless despite the forest. The faint silver trim along the collar caught the sunlight, making him look more out of place than usual.
It had been three days since the last fight. The corrupted beast they'd slain had left behind strange black crystals buried in the ground. Kael and the hunters had been clearing them ever since, and for a while, things seemed to settle.
But Alaric couldn't shake the feeling something was… off.
Even now, as he stared into the water, he could feel faint threads of mana pulsing under the soil — not dangerous, but restless. Like the forest was breathing.
He leaned closer to the water, whispering, "You're not gonna start talking too, are you?"
The water rippled.
"...Don't do that," he said, pulling back quickly.
Ryn's laughter rang from the trees. "You're talking to puddles again, ghost boy?"
Alaric shot him a glare. "It's called being cautious."
"Sure it is," Ryn said, grinning as he hopped down from a rock. "Next thing I know, you'll be having full-on conversations with mushrooms again."
"That was one time too!"
Ashen exhaled softly — which, for him, was the equivalent of a sigh. "Your friend is not incorrect. You do tend to overthink, Alaric."
"Excuse me for being the only one here with a working sense of paranoia," Alaric said, brushing dirt off his pants.
Kael's voice broke through the banter. "Enough chatter. We move in ten."
The man stepped out from the brush, broad-shouldered and steady as ever, his bow slung over one arm. His gaze swept the group, then lingered briefly on the forest around them.
"The air feels strange," Kael muttered. "Like before the last corruption."
Ashen's eyes flicked toward the trees. "Indeed. The forest's mana has shifted. It feels… uncertain."
"Uncertain?" Alaric repeated, blinking. "The forest's having an identity crisis now?"
Ashen looked down at him with an unreadable expression. "It would seem you are not the only one prone to mood swings."
Ryn snorted. "He got you there."
Alaric groaned, pulling his hood over his head. "This is bullying."
The lighthearted moment didn't last long though. As they started moving deeper into the forest, the air changed — heavier somehow. The smell of damp moss and wood thickened, like rain that hadn't fallen yet.
The ground beneath their boots grew softer, wet with dew that glowed faintly green in patches.
Alaric crouched and brushed his fingers against one of the glowing roots. Mana hummed faintly beneath his skin — calm, but alive.
"...It's warm," he whispered.
Ryn tilted his head. "Warm?"
"Yeah." Alaric frowned. "It feels like it's breathing."
Kael knelt beside him. "Don't touch it for too long. This isn't normal forest growth."
"I know," Alaric said, but his eyes didn't move from the glowing veins. "Still… it doesn't feel wrong."
Ashen stepped closer, shadow falling over him. "You sense life and death both in it, don't you?"
Alaric looked up. "You too?"
Ashen gave a faint nod. "It feels as though the forest itself is… awake. Observing."
The words sent a chill through him.
Alaric slowly withdrew his hand, brushing dirt off his fingers. "Observing, huh…? Great. Creepy ghost trees watching us. Love that."
Ryn elbowed him lightly. "You're supposed to be the scary one, remember?"
"Scary? I'm six, Ryn."
"Yeah, and you shoot glowing beams of death and life out of your hands."
Alaric sighed. "Okay, fair point."
They continued moving, Kael taking point, Ashen quietly guarding the rear. Every few steps, the hum of mana under the ground pulsed stronger. Birds had stopped singing. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
When they reached a clearing, the reason became clear.
The trees ahead were dead — completely drained of color, their trunks bleached white like bones. Their roots twisted together in a single, massive knot that cracked open the earth.
And in the center of that tangle was a crater.
No ash. No smell of burning. Just… emptiness.
Kael raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. "Stay alert."
Alaric took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing. The soil near the crater shimmered faintly with death mana.
He exhaled. "This… feels familiar."
Ashen moved beside him. "Because it is."
The undead knight crouched and brushed his gloved fingers across the edge of the crater. The ground flaked apart like brittle glass. "This residue matches the same decay from the corruption beasts. But this…"
He paused.
"This is older."
Alaric's chest tightened. "Older? Like, before the beasts?"
Ashen nodded once. "Perhaps before even us."
That made everyone go quiet.
Even Ryn stopped smiling.
The air grew colder, the light dimmer. Somewhere beneath them, Alaric could feel the pulse again — that slow, steady beat, like a heartbeat buried deep in the earth.
Kael turned toward him. "You're sensing it too?"
Alaric nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's under us. Deep."
Ashen's hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. "Then we tread carefully."
Alaric gave a small, shaky laugh. "Yeah, no kidding. If the ground starts talking, I'm out."
Ryn leaned closer. "You say that every time, and you never leave."
"Because you'd follow me!"
"Obviously."
Ashen's eyes softened faintly at the banter, though his tone stayed calm. "Both of you. Focus."
They fell quiet again. The pulse beneath their feet grew louder — steady, rhythmic, and alive.
Alaric looked toward the crater's edge one last time. His mana threads stirred on instinct, drawn toward the faint glow below.
He couldn't see what was there… but he could feel it.
Something familiar. Something ancient.
And something that, for the first time, whispered his name.
Soft. Distant. But clear enough to freeze him in place.
Alaric.
The sound didn't echo through his ears — it moved straight through his chest, brushing against the edge of his mana like a breath against glass.
He blinked and stepped back instinctively. "...Did you hear that?"
Ryn frowned. "Hear what?"
Alaric's lips parted, but no sound came out. The forest had gone still again, the heartbeat fading.
Ashen's gaze sharpened slightly. "You felt something?"
"Yeah." Alaric rubbed his arms, trying to shake the chill that crawled under his skin. "Something called my name. Like—like a whisper inside my mana."
Kael grunted. "Spirits again?"
"Not like before," Alaric said quickly. "This one felt… alive."
Ashen's hand brushed the ground again, death mana curling faintly around his glove. "Alive, and yet not. This mana carries traces of consciousness. It may be the forest itself."
Alaric squinted. "The forest talks now? Great. What's next, singing mushrooms?"
"Would that truly surprise you?" Ashen asked flatly.
"…Okay, fair point."
Ryn snorted, but even he didn't laugh for long. The air around them felt heavier now, as if the forest didn't appreciate being mocked.
Kael stood. "We pull back. Whatever this is, it's beyond what the village can handle."
Ashen inclined his head. "Agreed."
But before anyone could move, the ground shuddered.
A faint rumble rolled through the trees, followed by the sound of cracking wood. Birds scattered into the sky, their cries sharp and distant. The earth beneath their feet rippled — and the bleached trees at the crater's edge began to tremble.
Roots shifted. Twisted.
"Move!" Kael shouted, pushing Ryn back as one of the dead trees collapsed forward.
Alaric stumbled, clutching his staff. His mana reacted instinctively, threads of green and black light wrapping around his arms.
The earth split open. From beneath the cracked soil, something pushed upward — long, pale tendrils covered in black veins. They weren't roots anymore. They moved like living things.
Ashen was already in front of Alaric, his black coat flaring as he drew his sword. The silver edge gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"Stay behind me."
"Wasn't planning to jump in front!" Alaric shot back.
The roots lashed forward, fast and wild. Kael rolled aside, slicing through one with his dagger, while Ryn pulled Alaric further back.
The moment the blade cut through, black liquid splattered across the ground — and hissed like acid when it hit stone.
"...That's new," Ryn muttered, voice tight.
Alaric tightened his grip on the staff. The mana inside him surged like a tide, desperate to act. His instincts screamed danger — but also something else.
A pull. A call.
The roots weren't trying to kill him. They were reaching for him.
Ashen's blade sliced another root cleanly in two, the movement precise and effortless. "They're reacting to your presence."
"Yeah, thanks, zombie da—uh, Ashen. That really helps."
Ashen's head turned slightly. "What did you just—"
"Nothing! Focus on the killer roots!"
Despite the situation, Ryn barked a laugh. "Zombie what?"
Alaric groaned. "Focus!"
Ashen ignored the exchange, stepping forward with calm, fluid precision. Each movement of his blade was like a breath — silent, deliberate, efficient.
He wasn't just cutting; he was cleaving mana itself. The roots recoiled from him, hissing, retreating toward the crater's center.
Alaric watched, awe and fear mixing in his chest. Even after years together, seeing Ashen fight never stopped feeling unreal — like death itself had decided to learn elegance.
Kael gritted his teeth. "We can't stay here. This ground's unstable."
"I can stop it," Alaric said suddenly.
Ashen turned sharply. "No. The resonance is reacting to you. Engaging it further could worsen—"
"—Or calm it down," Alaric interrupted, his voice firmer than before. "It's calling to me, Ashen. I can feel it."
The undead's silver eyes flickered faintly — a rare sign of uncertainty.
Kael swore under his breath. "Kid, now's not the time to gamble."
Alaric's chest rose and fell rapidly, mana crackling faintly between his fingers. "It's not a gamble if it's already happening."
And before anyone could stop him, he stepped forward.
The glow from the crater brightened instantly, washing over the clearing in waves of soft green and black light.
The roots froze — as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Alaric extended one hand toward the center of the crater, his mana threads flaring. The forest's pulse beat once — hard — and the light shot up through his arm, flooding his body with warmth and cold all at once.
His knees buckled. His vision blurred.
Welcome home, the voice whispered.
"—Alaric!" Ashen's voice cut through the haze.
Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back just as the ground collapsed inward. Dust and roots fell into darkness, the sound echoing through the forest like thunder.
Ashen held him tightly, half kneeling in the dirt. His normally calm voice trembled ever so slightly. "Foolish child…"
Alaric blinked dazedly. "Heh. I told you the forest liked me."
"Liked you?" Ashen looked down at him, eyes narrowing. "You nearly fell into a sinkhole."
"Details…"
Ryn crouched beside them, panting. "Next time, warn us before you try communing with the trees!"
Kael's jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. "We're leaving. Now. Before the forest decides it wants another word."
Ashen helped Alaric to his feet, his grip steady and careful. For a moment, his cold touch felt warmer than usual.
They began their retreat, careful to avoid the shifting soil. Behind them, the crater dimmed slowly — but the pulse didn't fade.
It followed them.
Each step, Alaric felt it beneath his feet — faint, rhythmic, alive.
And though no one else heard it, the whisper returned, softer this time.
Soon.
Alaric shivered, glancing back one last time.
The trees stood still again, but he could swear… they were facing him.
By the time they reached the edge of the village, the sun had started to dip.
The light was gold and soft, but the shadows between the trees felt heavier than usual — stretched longer, darker.
Alaric walked quietly beside Ashen, staff tapping against the dirt path with every step. His body ached. Not the normal kind of ache, either — this was deep, like the forest had left its mark under his skin.
His mana wouldn't calm down. Even now, it pulsed faintly beneath his ribs, echoing the rhythm he'd heard earlier.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Each pulse carried warmth and chill, alternating in perfect, eerie balance.
Life and death — breathing together.
"Your mana flow is unstable," Ashen said beside him. His calm tone made it sound more like an observation than concern, but the faint crease in his brow gave him away. "You overextended."
"Didn't really have a choice," Alaric mumbled. "If I didn't respond, those roots might've gone crazy."
Ashen's silver eyes shifted toward him. "You did not respond. You invited it."
Alaric gave a weak grin. "Yeah, well… it said hi first."
The undead's expression didn't change, but his silence spoke volumes.
Ryn jogged a few paces ahead of them, still jumpy. "You sure you're okay, ghost boy? You look kinda pale."
"I'm always pale," Alaric muttered.
Ryn blinked. "Fair point."
Kael followed behind them, quiet as ever, though his eyes kept scanning the treeline. "No beasts, no corruption traces. But that pulse… it's still there."
Ashen nodded slightly. "It follows him."
That earned a few glances — not accusing, but uneasy.
Alaric could feel it too. The pulse hadn't left. It was softer now, distant, but still synced with his heartbeat.
The village came into view — thatched roofs and smoke rising from the cookfires. Children ran near the well, laughter echoing faintly. It should've felt comforting.
It didn't.
The forest edge behind them felt alive, watching.
As they stepped past the gate, a few villagers turned to look — some relieved, others wary. They'd all heard the tremor. They'd seen the glow under the trees.
"Back already?" one man called out. "You bring trouble with you again?"
Kael shot him a glare. The man shut up instantly.
Ashen didn't react, as usual, though his shadow stretched faintly across the ground — longer than it should've. A quiet warning.
Alaric forced a smile. "No trouble this time. Just, uh… curious roots."
The man frowned. "Curious?"
"Yeah, you know. Wiggly, glowy, almost tried to eat us—normal forest stuff."
Ryn snorted, elbowing him. "You really need to work on your definition of normal."
Kael exhaled through his nose. "Enough chatter. Get some rest. I'll report to the chief."
Ryn nodded, giving Alaric a small wave before jogging off toward the well.
That left just him and Ashen again.
They walked through the dirt path leading toward their small hut near the forest edge — their "home." The air felt heavier the closer they got. Birds avoided this side of the village now. Even the trees leaned slightly away.
Inside, the small room was dim but tidy. Ashen kept it that way — bedrolls folded neatly, tools arranged by size, a faint smell of dried herbs.
Alaric collapsed onto his bedding, groaning. "My everything hurts."
Ashen crouched beside him, examining him briefly. "You burned through both life and death mana again."
"Yeah, I kinda noticed that while I was almost falling into a crater," Alaric muttered.
Ashen's hand hovered over his chest, faint green light gathering at his fingertips. The familiar warmth spread through Alaric's ribs, dulling the ache.
He sighed softly. "You know, you'd make a good doctor."
Ashen tilted his head slightly. "An undead physician. How ironic."
Alaric grinned. "Yeah, but you've got the bedside manner down."
Ashen didn't reply, but his touch lingered a second longer than usual before he withdrew.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable — just… full.
The sound of crickets outside filled the space between them. The fire crackled. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
Then the whisper came again.
Softer this time. Like it was threading through his breath.
Alaric…
He stiffened.
Ashen noticed instantly. "You hear it again."
"Yeah," Alaric said quietly. "It's closer now. Not angry, just… sad."
Ashen's gaze darkened. "It is not sad, Alaric. It is ancient. And dangerous."
"I know. But…" He hesitated, fingers curling around his blanket. "It doesn't feel wrong. It feels… familiar."
"That is precisely why it is dangerous," Ashen said softly.
Alaric looked at him, his small grin fading. "You're worried."
Ashen didn't answer. He didn't need to. The faint flicker in his eyes said enough.
"I'll be fine," Alaric said after a moment, forcing a small smile. "You know me. Lazy, but durable."
Ashen gave a faint hum. "You are reckless and stubborn."
"I'll take that as affection."
For the first time that evening, the corner of Ashen's mouth lifted slightly — not quite a smile, but close. "You should not."
Alaric chuckled weakly. "Too late."
He closed his eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at him. The hum of the forest pressed against the edges of his mind again — soft, rhythmic, like breathing.
But this time, he didn't fight it.
He listened.
Through the whisper of leaves, through the heartbeat beneath the soil, a voice shaped words just for him.
"You are the bridge."
Alaric's brow furrowed in his sleep. His breathing slowed.
Ashen sat beside him silently, his gaze fixed on the window. The forest beyond swayed gently — too gently. The wind didn't reach this far.
He rested a gloved hand lightly against the floor, feeling the faint vibration. The pulse.
And for the first time since his rebirth, a flicker of unease crossed his expression.
Something in the forest had awakened.
Something that knew both his master's name… and his own.