The rain doesn't stop.
Not a gentle rain.Not a passing storm.
This is heavy. Violent. Almost hostile. Each drop slams into the earth as if the sky is trying to force the island deeper into the mud.
The forest is unrecognizable.
Roots become traps. Trunks drip endlessly. Visibility shrinks to a blur of gray and green.
We move slowly.
Serah walks a few meters behind, face drained of color. Iska stays close to me, gripping her knife until her knuckles turn white. Brask limps, but he doesn't complain.
Never does.
Kaïros brings up the rear.
Calm.
Too calm.
"We need shelter," I say. "Before night."
"This rain won't stop," Kaïros replies evenly. "And the forest will only grow more dangerous."
A crack.
Deep. Heavy.
Not a branch.
Something massive.
Iska freezes.
"Did you hear that…?"
A growl rolls through the trees.
Low. Wet. Close.
Brask mutters under his breath.
"…shit."
The bushes explode.
The bear bursts through.
Enormous. Twisted by hunger and rain. Dark fur plastered to its swollen body. Its fangs are too long. Too thick.
Weapons.
Not teeth.
It charges.
"BACK!" I shout.
Iska raises her knife.
Mistake.
The bear slams into her with full force.
Her body crashes into a tree. The impact knocks the air from her lungs in a strangled gasp. She collapses into the mud, dazed.
Serah screams.
Brask lunges.
"ISKA!"
The bear pivots.
Its jaws close.
On her throat.
A sickening sound.
Wet.
A crack.
I don't even have time to shout.
The bear jerks its head.
Her neck breaks.
Her body goes limp.
Then it starts eating.
Right there.
Serah collapses to her knees.
"No— no—!"
Brask roars and charges.
Kaïros moves at the same instant.
The bear rears and strikes.
Its paw slams into Brask.
He blocks.
Barely.
The force throws him backward into a tree. His head hits the bark with a dull crack.
He drops.
Still.
"BRASK!"
I rush forward—
Pain explodes through my left hand.
A claw.
Deep.
Flesh tears open.
I grit my teeth, gripping my knife as blood pours out, diluted instantly by rain.
Kaïros is already on it.
He drives his blade in.
Again.
Again.
Shoulder. Flank.
The bear howls.
A raw, violent sound.
It whips around and hurls Kaïros into the mud. Its jaws snap inches from his face.
"Aydan!" he shouts.
I move.
No thought.
I stab.
Again.
Again.
The blade barely penetrates. Thick hide. Dense muscle.
The bear slams into me.
I roll through mud. My knife nearly slips away.
I rise, unsteady.
Breath short.
Left hand shaking.
Fire.
Instinct screams for it.
But the rain is everywhere.
Clothes soaked. Skin soaked. Mana resists.
Not like this.
I look at Brask.
Unconscious.
Serah sobbing.
Iska—
Not moving.
I tighten my grip.
I can still fight.
I have to.
The bear charges again.
I dive aside.
Slash its leg.
The blade sinks.
Not enough.
It slams into me with its shoulder.
I hit the ground. Mud fills my mouth. My vision blurs.
If I do it now…
If I lose control…
If I burn everything—
I think of the forest.
The rain.
Brask.
Iska.
Serah.
My right hand trembles.
Then I feel it.
Not an explosion.
A pressure.
Stable.
Controlled.
Carmine Fire answers.
Not to fear.
To will.
Dark red.
Dense.
Silent.
It doesn't crackle.
It doesn't care about the rain.
The blade forms along my arm.
Perfect.
"KAÏROS, MOVE!"
He rolls clear.
I strike.
Once.
Twice.
The blade slices through flesh as if resistance doesn't exist.
The bear screams.
I don't stop.
Kaïros returns.
Precise.
Coordinated.
I slip beneath the paw.
Cut the throat.
Kaïros drives his knife into its eye.
The massive body convulses—
Then collapses.
Heavy.
Still.
Silence.
The rain continues.
Serah crawls to Iska.
"No… please…"
I reach Brask.
"Brask!"
I turn him over.
He's breathing.
Shallow.
"Brask. Can you hear me?"
His eyes open slightly.
"…did we win?"
I swallow.
"Yes. But—"
He sees.
Iska.
Serah shaking.
"…fuck…"
Kaïros stands apart.
Covered in blood.
Scratches across his skin.
His gaze is distant.
"We need to move," he says quietly.
We take shelter in a nearby cave.
Rain cannot reach us here.
Kaïros raises his hand.
A blue flame appears.
Soft. Gentle.
Celestial Fire.
Wounds close.
Not losses.
The cave is narrow, but dry.
Outside, rain batters stone. Inside, the air smells of blood, mud, and fear.
Serah sits against the wall, curled into herself.
She doesn't speak.
She cries without sound. Her hands are still stained with Iska's blood. She doesn't wipe them.
Brask leans against rock, wound sealed, eyes empty.
Kaïros sits at the cave mouth.
Still.
Watching.
The blue flame is gone. Only faint warmth lingers.
I lean against the opposite wall.
My right hand is clean.
Calm.
My left burns beneath makeshift bandages.
Carmine Fire has faded.
But I still feel it.
Elsewhere.
The screams carried far.
Even through rain.
Even through trees.
Oryn stops.
"You hear that?" Rhaen asks.
The group freezes.
Another scream.
Animal.
Human.
Hard to tell.
Selene swallows.
"That wasn't… one of us, right?"
Oryn smiles.
A slow, ugly smile.
"Yes."
He raises his hand.
"Come."
They move carefully, following mud tracks and the metallic scent of blood.
They reach the cave's perimeter.
Stop.
Oryn narrows his eyes.
"There."
They don't approach.
Not yet.
He sees the blood.
The claw marks.
The massive bear imprint.
"…they fought that?" Rhaen whispers.
Oryn's jaw tightens.
"Arin."
He knows.
He feels it.
"They're inside," he murmurs.
Selene hesitates.
"Do we attack?"
Oryn studies the cave. The silence within. The faint sound of someone crying.
He shakes his head.
"Not tonight."
That smile again.
"Let them process it."
He turns away.
"The forest will finish the rest."
They vanish into darkness.
Unseen.
Inside the cave.
Night passes.
No one speaks.
Serah eventually falls asleep, exhausted, cheeks still wet. Even in sleep her hands twitch.
Brask doesn't sleep.
"I should've…" he mutters.
"What?"
"I should've been faster."
I say nothing.
Because I think the same.
I replay it.
Every second.
Every hesitation.
If I had used fire sooner.If I hadn't waited.If I hadn't doubted.
Iska might still be alive.
I close my eyes.
It changes nothing.
The forest doesn't care about "if."
We eat what little remains.
No appetite.
No taste.
Just survival.
The rain weakens.
Silence returns.
Heavy.
Final.
I stare into the darkness beyond the cave entrance.
I think of the bear.
Of Iska.
Of how easily the blade cut.
And the thought that unsettles me more than anything:
What if I'm getting used to this too quickly?
Night fades.
Day Three ends in dried blood and cold air.
When dawn comes — pale and silent —
Day Four begins.
And there is no going back.