Ren's breath shuddered as tears streamed down, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps for air. His fingers twitched in the pool of cold blood, gripping at something solid—something real.
'I should be dead.'
The thought pulsed in his head, over and over again, but his body refused to accept it.
He had felt himself die.
He felt teeth pierce his flesh, bones splinter under crushing jaws. How his body was torn apart. His mind had been shattered by the sheer agony of it, the unbearable suffering.
And yet, he was whole.
His body was fully intact, his skin unbroken.
Even the clothes he wore were restored.
"No…it's not real. It isn't," He muttered. "This is just—just another pain episode…Another hallucination…I've had them before."
His thoughts scrambled for something—anything—that made sense.
This couldn't be real.
Ren pressed a trembling hand to his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm beneath his palm.
The pain was gone. All of it.
And his body felt wrong. Foreign even.
Swallowing hard, his breath quickened. "Yeah…yeah, that's it," He whispered. "The pain hit too hard again. My brain's just—just filling in the blanks."
He couldn't stay here.
With a shaky inhale, Ren planted his palms against the ground and pushed himself upright.
His legs struggled beneath him.
"Why? Why can't I wake up?" He clenched his fists, frustration breaking through his fear. "Why isn't anything changing?"
Then—
A gust of wind tore through the forest.
Cold air rushed through his matted grey hair, slipped beneath his cloak, scraped across his skin.
"No…"
The ground beneath his feet was solid. Undeniable.
The scent of ash and decay filled his lungs.
This wasn't just another episode.
This wasn't a hallucination.
"This…this is real!"
Panic surged.
Ren staggered back, then turned and broke into a run.
His legs screamed in protest, weak and unsteady, but he didn't stop.
"It's not fair!" His voice cracked, raw with exhaustion. "Why do I have to keep living?! Why am I the only one that has to suffer?!"
Then a thought.
'Why bother?'
It slithered into his mind, soft and cold, settling there like it belonged.
'There's nowhere to go.'
Ren began to slow.
'You're alone.'
The steps became harder to press down.
'Just lie down.'
The weight of the words pressed on.
'Just stop.'
Tears burned at his eyes as fear twisted within his heart.
No.
That wasn't him.
That voice—it wasn't his.
A chill ran down his spine, as he began to understand.
"This forest…it's in my head? How is that possible?!"
The forest was pressing into his mind, threading thoughts where they didn't belong.
It made surrender feel natural. Like it was his choice.
His pace faltered. Ren bent forward, hands braced on his knees, chest heaving. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing. In…and out. He had to steady himself.
"No…this voice isn't real," He muttered, shaking his head.
Then—
A groan came from behind him.
Slowly, Ren turned to see a corpse hung from a blackened tree.
Its neck bent at an impossible angle, body swaying gently in an unseen wind.
The tree beside it held another.
And another.
And another.
Ren's eyes widened as the forest revealed itself.
Bodies—dozens, hundreds—lined the trees. Some hung limp and lifeless. Others twitched. Their chests rose and fell weakly. Fingers scraped uselessly in the air. Mouths opened in silent screams that would never be heard. His vision swam as he staggered back.
"What…what is this…" He whispered.
Then, understanding crept in, cold and suffocating.
This was what the forest did.
It drowned souls in despair. Smothered them in grief, exhaustion, hopelessness—until surrender felt like a relief. And this was the end of it all. Not death. Just torture. Waiting forever for an end.
Ren's knees nearly gave out as his own words echoed back at him.
'Why am I the only one that has to suffer?!'
Shame filled inside. He clenched his teeth, fists tightening in balls. He wasn't the only one.
Everything here suffered.
Everything here had been broken, crushed, and left behind.
Guilt.
It was guilt that Ren felt then. He could have known this could happen. That there were souls fated to something worse than him. Yet, he felt sorry for them. Like he was the one who did it.
Ren forced himself to turn away.
He couldn't stay there.
Not now. Not like this. Not when the forest was already trying to claim him as well.
As he took a step forward—
A voice spoke. Soft. Weak. Trembling.
"Help me…"
It was a woman's voice—desperate and pleading.
The forest groaned around him, filled with endless suffering, but beneath it all, he heard it.
Someone who could still speak.
Someone who hadn't given up.
"Help…help…help…"
Every instinct screamed at him to run.
Because he wasn't ready. He was barely holding himself together.
So he turned away and forced his legs to move.
He ran as the dread clawed at his chest. The voice, the guilt, the weight of it all.
He couldn't face it yet.
And his throat burned with words he couldn't keep in.
"I'm sorry. I can't help you." He whispered to the emptiness, knowing that the woman couldn't even hear him. "I promise…even if you're just a voice in my head…I'll come back eventually."
It wasn't his time yet. He couldn't save others if he couldn't save himself first.
Even if the forest had twisted her voice into nothing more than an illusion—
He would return.
It would only be a matter of time.