'Picture a forest that begins like the soft, serene woods found in places like rural Vietnam, Borneo, or old Japanese countryside—lush, green, almost kind. But as you walk deeper, the light fades. The trees no longer welcome you. You're being watched, not by eyes, but by something older than language'
***
"The forest's strange tonight, don't you think?" Gabriel's voice broke the stillness, quiet but alert. Normally, there would be odd chirps, rustles—signs of creatures moving just out of sight. But tonight, the silence pressed down like fog. Only a few wild animals had crossed their path earlier. It made him wonder—was it the wrong day to enter the forest? Or had their instincts dulled after too long away from the wild?
"Maybe the animals ran off because there's a beast among us," Andre joked, grinning as he poked at the campfire.
The boy—Eliot—had been asleep for nearly an hour. Curled by the fire, he looked too at ease for someone traveling with men like them. Then again, with Marcus nearby, maybe he felt invincible. Gabriel envied that kind of trust. He wasn't sure he remembered what it felt like.
"It's my first time here," Silas muttered, surveying the woods. "Are things usually this quiet?" His voice carried a note of disappointment. Hunting trips were meant to stir blood, not lull it. Though he appreciated the peace after months of mercenary work, the urge to fight—to kill—still clung to him like a second skin.
Gabriel didn't respond right away. Andre leaned closer, watching the prince shift in his sleep.
"That tiny kid—he Marcus' son or something?" Silas asked, watching Eliot's small figure move restlessly. The boy had walked through the forest earlier like it was his playground. Fearless, unbothered. He'd even asked to try one of their weapons. Silas had chuckled to himself. The brat had guts.
Gabriel cracked his neck and added dried leaves to the fire to ward off mosquitoes. The bites irritated him, but it was the diseases he feared more. He glanced toward Silas, his voice casual.
"That's the prince. Marcus's nephew."
"Oh." Silas blinked, surprised. He knew Marcus as the former Crown Prince—the man who gave up his title without much explanation. But a nephew? He didn't even know Marcus had family, let alone someone like that kid.
Odd? Maybe. Or maybe it was just Silas who found it odd.
He didn't grow up with a family, after all—only war. Affection was a foreign concept. But as the last one to trail behind during the entire trek, Silas had seen things. He watched Marcus and the boy from a distance, saw the way they moved, breathed. There was something unsaid between them. Something deeper than uncle and nephew.
"What did you mean earlier—by a beast?" he asked. His tone was light, but Gabriel didn't miss the edge.
Gabriel didn't answer.
"I'm heading down that way," he said instead, brushing past Andre.
"Taking a shit, Gabbi?" Andre teased, giving him a swift kick in the butt.
Gabriel winced but shot him a look—sharp, warning. A silent message: Don't say more.
Andre straightened and scratched his cheek. "There are some things you're better off not knowing, my friend," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the fire. "And it's not our place to tell."
Silas narrowed his eyes, but let it go. The night had grown colder. The fire crackled low.
None of the three slept—not yet. Not when the two royals lay nearby. Marcus and the boy shared a blanket, their breathing steady in the dark. Silas remained seated, watching Eliot. His gaze lingered just a bit too long.
Gabriel, returning from the trees, noticed.
No one spoke of it, but the air was thick with quiet tension. Not just because of the strange forest—but because not all secrets were meant to be shared. Not yet.