The morning fog hung low, so dense it hardly seemed to move. Dio pushed through the layer with steps he counted in his head, making sure the ground beneath him was stable before letting his weight follow. His skin was cold, his fingers slightly stiff each time the fog touched them.
Since the day he left that lifeless body behind, time had lost its shape. Days blended into long silences separated only by brief sleep that never truly refreshed him.
But his body, slowly, began to adapt—
and also began to show signs of decline he could no longer ignore.
◆
Dio's steps were now more efficient. He no longer wasted energy on unnecessary movements. Every descent, climb, and turn was the result of days of learning.
But efficiency did not erase exhaustion.
One morning, as he bent under a low branch, his vision blurred slightly at the edges. Only for a split second. Enough to make him stop and wait until his focus returned.
He wasn't surprised.
A body without food, without proper sleep, and without enough water would not work perfectly. Even his new body had to obey limits.
And those limits drew closer each day.
◆
The mistake came without warning.
On a small slope that looked safe, he lost his footing. Grass covered brittle soil beneath. His foot broke through the thin layer, sliding his body downward. His left arm hit the ground first, followed by his right knee scraping along until it left a long cut.
He stopped tumbling after hitting a small rock.
His knee throbbed, his shoulder heated up, and his breath caught for a moment.
Dio sat upright and examined the wound. Blood seeped slowly from peeled skin. He pressed it with cloth, waiting for the heat to settle.
The wound wasn't large, but enough to add weight to every next step—
and enough to remind him that his body was not immune to real damage.
◆
The forest shifted little by little.
There were hard soil paths forming repeating fine lines. Tree trunks leaning in the same direction, not because of wind. Bushes that looked as if something heavy had pushed through them.
Dio touched one of the leaning trunks. Its surface was colder than the surrounding air. He withdrew his hand slowly, like someone backing away from something he didn't want to touch twice.
He didn't seek explanations.
The forest didn't give any.
◆
One afternoon, he heard small footsteps ahead. Quick and light. Dio moved closer, preparing to avoid a small animal that might pass.
But the footsteps stopped.
Then a new set of footsteps—
from behind him.
He turned quickly.
Nothing.
No animal eyes reflecting light.
No rustling leaves.
But it felt as though something had just moved away when he turned.
He quickened his pace.
Not running, but removing pauses between steps.
Small sounds switching direction like that were never a good sign.
◆
At a small river he found days later, Dio washed his face. The cold water made his head feel clear for a moment. But when he stood, he saw ripples on the water's surface—ripples moving with a slow pattern like the breath of a large creature.
The ground shook slightly afterward.
Not strongly, but enough to reach the bones of his legs.
Dio didn't wait for a second ripple.
He moved away, crossing a large rock and slipping back into the denser forest, keeping his breathing steady.
◆
The nights that followed offered little rest.
Sometimes he woke to a single heavy step.
Sometimes to a long hiss almost like breathing.
Sometimes to shifts of air that changed the direction of dry leaves.
The step never came twice.
The hiss never repeated.
But always enough to make Dio open his eyes, his heart racing for minutes.
One night, he realized something new:
There were no insect sounds.
Not a single one.
It wasn't ordinary silence.
It was a silence that made breathing difficult.
◆
When the faint dawn behind thin clouds came, the fog no longer behaved like fog.
He walked through it. It split slightly, then closed again—
not following the direction of wind, as if moving with its own rhythm.
Dio stretched out his hand. The fog did not cling like dew. Instead it shrank away from his skin for a moment before returning to shape when he pulled back.
He felt unwelcome by the air.
Or perhaps the air was restraining itself, refusing to move further.
◆
The evening before the final night of his protection arrived with another sign.
The forest lost one thing that had always been there:
the droplets falling from leaves after rain.
Rain had fallen hours earlier, but the leaves were dry without sound.
No water dripping.
No water running down trunks.
The soil released no damp scent.
Dio stopped moving.
He waited for the first drop.
None came.
As if all the water had vanished before touching the ground.
He didn't know what it meant.
But he understood the warning.
◆
On a late afternoon close to dusk, he found a large depression in the ground—fresher, deeper, heavier than the previous tracks.
The center of the soil was still warm.
He did not approach.
He did not touch the edges.
He simply looked at the shape while keeping his breath slow.
The creature had passed here.
Just recently.
And far too large for him to grasp its form.
Dio stepped back and chose another path without turning around.
◆
The last night before the crucial day arrived in a way that made him want to hold his breath.
The sky was not dark.
Not bright.
Just a thin color difficult to name—
not blue, not black, not gray.
He leaned against a large root.
His shield rested beside him, his sword within reach.
The air around him swirled slowly, not following normal wind.
As if the forest was circulating its breath into a small circle.
Dio felt his body tremble slightly.
Not from cold.
Not from fear.
But because his body was beginning to reject walking so long without any strength left.
The limit was close.
So close he could feel a thin pressure inside his chest—
a pressure reminding him that his protection was nearly fading.
He closed his eyes, listening to a world holding its breath.
If he still saw light the next morning,
then that morning would be different from all the days before.