Chapter 23 — The Color of Silence
The land ahead stayed quiet as they moved forward. Nothing blocked them. Nothing reacted. That silence felt heavier than noise. Nitya walked at the front, her pace steady, eyes always moving. She didn't rush. Places like this punished hurry. Vansh stayed close to Avni, while Gaurav watched their sides. Every step felt like it mattered more than it should.
Nitya slowed and raised her hand.
They stopped together.
The air felt still, but not empty. It felt like something was present but choosing not to show itself.
"Stay sharp," Nitya said. "No fast moves."
They continued forward, but carefully. The ground was firm, almost too perfect. No loose soil. No broken rock. It felt prepared. Gaurav paused and pulled out his compass.
The needle spun.
He frowned and turned it again. It refused to settle.
"It's not working," he said. "This area has strong magnetic disturbance. Direction tools are useless here."
"That means we trust our eyes," Nitya replied. "And our memory."
They moved on until the sound of water reached them. A river stretched across the land, wide and calm. The surface looked smooth, almost glass-like. No birds. No movement. Just slow flow.
Nitya stopped them instantly.
"This is the river Arun warned about," she said. "We don't go near it."
They changed their route and walked along it, keeping distance. The water stayed quiet, but the feeling around it was heavy, like something large rested beneath the surface. No one spoke. No one needed to.
After some time, Vansh slowed and fell into step beside Avni.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "I am. Just nervous. And excited."
"That's a dangerous mix," he said softly.
She smiled weakly. "Promise me we don't separate."
"I promise," Vansh replied.
They hadn't gone far when Avni suddenly stopped.
"Wait," she said.
Everyone froze.
Ahead, the land looked damaged. The soil was scratched deeply, torn apart like something had been dragged violently. Broken arrows lay scattered on the ground. Some were bent. Some snapped clean.
Gaurav crouched and picked one up. "Military grade," he said. "Not basic weapons."
Nitya examined the ground. "There was a fight here. Short. Violent."
Vansh looked around slowly. "This must be where the Blue Veterans killed that Vestige."
No one denied it. The land still felt disturbed, like it remembered what happened.
"We don't stay," Nitya said. "Move right."
They changed direction and walked for hours. Time felt meaningless. The sky didn't shift. The light didn't fade. Gaurav estimated they had covered nearly fifteen miles when something changed.
Color appeared ahead.
Red.
Trees stood tall in the distance, their leaves deep red, glowing softly under the strange light. A forest unlike anything they had seen.
Avni whispered, "Is that real?"
"It shouldn't be," Vansh replied.
Nitya studied it carefully. "We go in. Slowly."
The moment they stepped into the forest, the air grew heavier. Light filtered through red leaves, casting dark shadows on the ground. The smell was sharp and unfamiliar. The place felt alive, but not welcoming.
Nitya raised her hand again.
"Hold."
She walked to the nearest tree and examined its bark. Dark red. Smooth. No signs of decay.
"Vansh," she said. "Cut a piece."
He hesitated only a second, then pulled out his blade and struck the trunk. The blade sank in easily. He pulled out a small chunk of wood.
Everyone leaned closer.
The inside of the tree was red too.
Not brown. Not pale.
Red.
"That's… not normal," Gaurav said.
Vansh looked up. "There's more."
He pointed above.
Hanging from the branches were crystal-like fruits. Apples, shaped almost perfectly, glowing faintly as light passed through them. They looked solid and fragile at the same time.
Avni stared. "They look like glass."
"Or traps," Gaurav added.
Nitya didn't touch them. "We don't eat. We don't collect. We observe."
She looked around the forest. No wind. No animals. No sound.
"This place is not reacting to us yet," she said. "That doesn't mean it won't."
They stood there, surrounded by red trees and crystal fruit, deep beyond the Horizon, knowing one thing clearly.
That something interesting or dangerous was going to happen in future.