The sun crawled weakly over the treeline, bleeding gray light through the fog. The air hung heavy with the smell of char and blood — faint now, but still sharp enough to sting the throat. Ravenwood was quiet again, too quiet.
Kael sat on a rock near the camp's edge, sharpening his blade in slow, measured strokes. Each drag of steel against the whetstone hissed through the silence like a sigh. His reflection rippled faintly on the polished surface — same eyes, same scars — but colder than he remembered.
Rin stretched behind him, yawning and cracking his neck. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
Kael didn't look up. "Didn't feel like it."
Rin smirked faintly, though the shadows under his eyes betrayed the same exhaustion. "You keep brooding like that, and you'll start looking like one of them."
Before Kael could answer, Taro's voice called from the fire pit. "Breakfast is ready!" The boy grinned, waving a dented tin bowl like a victory flag. "If you can call burnt rations breakfast."
"Better than the alternative," Lira muttered, her tone even as always. She sat cross-legged nearby, cleaning her dagger with a white cloth, her coat sleeves rolled neatly to the elbow. The faint glow of her detection sigils still shimmered faintly on her palms — traces of her work from the night before.
Rin took his bowl, sniffed the food, and frowned. "You could've at least pretended this was edible."
Taro shrugged, cheeks puffing as he tasted it himself. "Tastes fine to me."
For a brief moment, laughter — dry and tired but real — passed through the camp. Even Kael allowed a small, invisible smile as he sheathed his sword and joined them by the fire.
But the silence of the forest pressed close again, almost listening.
Lira was the first to notice it. She stood abruptly, scanning the treeline. "Do you hear that?"
Kael tensed. "What?"
"The wind stopped."
They all listened. The woods were utterly still. Not a single crow, not a rustle of leaves. Just the slow crackle of their fire and the faint hum of distant, unseen flies.
Rin's hand slid to his sword. "That's not normal."
Lira knelt beside the blackened soil near the bodies they had burned. She brushed away the ash — revealing faint claw tracks leading away from the clearing.
They weren't fresh, but they weren't old either. The shapes were wrong too — not like the Wendigos they'd fought. Longer digits, narrower stance.
"These weren't the only ones here," she said softly.
Kael's jaw tightened. "A pack?"
"No." Lira's eyes traced the marks further, to where the ground began to slope toward the dense trees. "Something else."
They followed the trail in silence. The fog grew thicker, the ground damp and uneven. The trees here were ancient — twisted oaks and black pines so tall they seemed to cage the sky. The deeper they went, the more the air felt heavy, almost suffocating.
Taro hesitated as they reached a cluster of trees whose roots tangled like skeletal hands. "Do you guys feel that?"
The soil pulsed faintly beneath their boots. Once. Twice. Like a heartbeat.
Lira crouched, placing a hand on the ground. "It's hollow beneath us."
Rin frowned. "A tunnel?"
Kael unsheathed his blade. "Lira, light."
She tapped a small charm on her wrist — a faint glow spread across her palm, illuminating the roots. Beneath them, hidden in the tangle, a dark crevice gaped open — no bigger than a doorway, leading down into blackness.
The smell hit them first — rot, copper, something old and wet.
Taro gagged. "What the hell…"
Rin covered his nose. "Smells like something died down there."
"More like a hundred somethings," Lira murmured. She picked up a torn piece of fabric caught on the roots — faded, human, maybe from a missing villager.
Kael stared into the darkness. The faint echo of dripping water came from below… but beneath it, something else — slow, dragging, like breath through rotten lungs.
He turned to the others. "Form up. We're going in."
Taro's eyes widened. "Wait—Kael, the report—"
"If there's a nest down there, we need to confirm it before anyone else walks into it."
Rin sighed, drawing his blade. "You just can't resist being the hero, huh?"
Kael smirked faintly. "You coming or not?"
Rin clicked his tongue. "Like I'd let you get killed first."
Lira adjusted her glasses, voice calm but edged. "Keep formation. I'll maintain the light. Taro, rear guard."
The descent was narrow — damp earth closing around them, roots hanging like ribs from the ceiling. Their footsteps echoed softly against stone and mud. The deeper they went, the colder it became.
At first, the tunnel was just dirt and decay. Then, the walls changed — scratches etched deep into stone, symbols drawn in something that looked like blood. Human bones littered the ground, gnawed clean.
Rin whispered, "This place… how long's it been here?"
Lira's glow flickered. "Long enough for the forest to grow over it."
Kael raised his hand for silence. The tunnel widened into a chamber — vast, circular, walls pulsing faintly with a red hue, as if veins ran beneath the stone. At the center lay a mound of bones and tattered flesh, arranged almost ritually.
Taro's voice trembled. "Kael… that's—"
A low sound cut him off.
Wet. Deep. Breathing.
The air grew heavier.
Kael stepped forward, sword raised. The mound shifted.
A pale hand twitched from beneath the corpses — too long, too thin. Then another. A shape stirred beneath the pile, slowly rising. Skin clung to bone like wax. Eyes opened — milky white, pupil-less — fixing directly on Kael.
The Wendigo smiled.
Not a feral one — this one was calm. Watching. Almost… curious.
Kael's breath caught. For a second, his mind flashed back to the orphanage — to that same gaze under the bed.
Rin's voice broke the silence. "Orders, Captain?"
Kael's grip tightened on the hilt. "Hold formation."
The creature tilted its head. Then, it spoke.
A voice like wind through frozen leaves — not aloud, but inside their heads.
"You shouldn't have come here."
The light went out.