Randall left the barn when the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon.
He did not look back.
Night swallowed the world quickly, wrapping the forest in a cloak of shadows so thick it seemed alive. The moon hung pale and distant above the treetops, offering just enough light for Randall to see where the ground dipped and rose beneath his bare feet. Every step sent pain shooting through his soles,raw, bruised, and cracked from days of walking without rest.
His only companions were the crickets.
Their song filled the air, steady and relentless, as if mocking him with their tireless cheer.
Even they were happy, Randall thought bluntly.
His body felt hollow, as though something vital had been scooped out and never replaced. His stomach twisted painfully, growling in protest, but there was nothing left inside him to give. Hunger gnawed at him like a living thing, sharp and merciless.
His legs began to shake.
Not from fear,but from betrayal.
They no longer listened to him.
"I just need… a little farther," he whispered to no one, forcing himself onward. "Just a place with people."
A village.
A hut.
Anything.
But the forest stretched endlessly in every direction, dark and unforgiving. The trees stood tall and indifferent, their branches whispering secrets he could not understand. Every rustle made his heart jump, every shadow threatened danger.
Then his strength gave out.
Randall stumbled, knees buckling, and collapsed onto the forest floor. The earth was cold and damp beneath him, pressing into his skin as if claiming him already. He lay there, staring at the moon through the leaves, chest heaving.
No tears came.
He was too tired for that.
His breathing slowed, shallow and uneven. The world felt far away now, distant and unreal.
"I'm done," he murmured hoarsely. "I can't… I can't keep going."
He closed his eyes.
In the quiet of his mind, he called softly,not to men, not to gods of temples and stone,but to whatever listened in the wild places.
Spirits of the forest, he prayed weakly. If you are real… if you hear me… take me.
He thought of his mother.
Aria.
Her smile. Her voice. The warmth he barely remembered but desperately longed for.
Let me rest, he begged. Let me be with her.
He waited for darkness.
For nothingness.
But the crickets still sang.
The night still breathed around him.
The loneliness remained.
Then—
Light.
Randall's eyes fluttered open.
At first, he thought it was the moon shifting,but no. This light was different. Warmer. Brighter. It glowed low among the trees, a single point shining impossibly clear in the darkness.
He blinked, convinced it was a trick of a dying mind.
The light did not fade.
It grew.
A shape emerged from it.
Small. Crooked. Sitting comfortably atop a fallen log as though it had been waiting there all along. Long arms folded across its chest. Its eyes,bright, sharp, knowing,fixed on Randall with unmistakable irritation.
The creature shook its head slowly.
Randall's heart stuttered.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Hallucination, he told himself. Hunger does this. Fear does this.
He opened them again.
The creature was still there.
With what little strength he had left, Randall croaked, "Who… who are you?"
The figure leaned forward, the light around it flickering like fireflies caught in glass.
"Messenger of death?" Randall whispered. "Have you come to take me to my mother?"
The creature scoffed loudly.
"My mother, my mother, my mother, yes yes, your mother" it mocked, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, for the love of me, would you snap out of that self-pity?"
Randall stared, stunned.
"You're not the first soul to be left behind," the creature continued, hopping off the log with surprising agility. "And you certainly won't be the last. But what you do with what's left of you,that is what matters."
It circled him, peering down like a disappointed tutor.
"Is this how you plan to rule?" it said sharply. "Lying in the dirt like a little girl, begging the dark to swallow you whole?"
Something snapped inside Randall.
"Don't you dare call me a little girl," he growled, fury lending him strength he didn't know he had. "Or else…"
"Or else what, warrior?" the creature interrupted, grinning.
Randall tried to push himself up.
His arms trembled.
He collapsed back onto the ground with a grunt of pain.
The creature burst into laughter,high, sharp, echoing through the trees.
"Oh, I like you," it said. "Stubborn even when broken."
Randall glared at it, breath ragged. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Calling you what?"
"A warrior."
The creature tilted its head. "Because you are one."
"I don't even know how to wield a sword," Randall snapped. "I've never led men. I've never won a battle. I'm nothing."
The creature's smile faded,just slightly.
"That," it said quietly, "is why you have so much to learn."
It crouched beside him, its glowing eyes locking onto his.
"But first," it added, voice lowering, "we must keep you alive."
Randall swallowed. "Why?"
The creature straightened, arms spreading wide as if presenting the forest itself.
"Because destinies do not amend themselves," it said. "And the world has been tearing itself apart for far too long."
The light around it pulsed once,bright and undeniable.
"You are not meant to die here, Randall of Glandow," the creature said. "You are meant to endure."
Randall's heart pounded.
"Who… what are you?" he whispered.
The creature's grin returned, sharp and knowing.
"A reminder," it said lightly. "A guide. A nuisance, depending on the day."
It turned and began walking deeper into the forest, its light bobbing between the trees.
"Come along, warrior," it called over its shoulder. "If you wish to live."
Randall stared after it, fear and hope warring inside him.
With a groan, he dragged himself up.
And followed the light.