The walk back through the forest felt longer than it should have, yet oddly faster than his desperate, directionless flight had been. The unsettling normality of the trees, the chirping of unseen birds, the filtered sunlight – it all felt like a lie superimposed over the screaming truth in Alex's mind. He periodically glanced at Verwel, who padded along happily, sniffing at roots and occasionally chasing a butterfly. It was the picture of a normal dog walk, except Verwel would sometimes pause, his head cocked, listening to something Alex couldn't hear, his eyes briefly darkening before he'd resume his cheerful trot. Alex tried to tell himself it was just a dog being a dog, but the knowing whispered that Verwel's connection to this newly quiet realm ran deeper now.
He experimentally brushed his hand against a rough tree trunk. His skin, which the rusted knife had failed to scratch, felt unnervingly smooth and resilient. There was no surge of stolen life, no drain from the tree. The power wasn't something constantly active or easily controlled. It was dormant, a heavy weight sitting in his core, connected to the foreign knowledge of Xerark's sacrifice and the unseen threat.
Hours passed. The forest grew denser, the air cooler. Then, subtly at first, the sounds of nature began to fade. The birdsong lessened, the rustling of leaves seemed muted, even Verwel's usual sniffing seemed less enthusiastic. The trees ahead took on a slightly paler hue, a dullness beneath the green. The feeling of 'wrongness' intensified, a thrumming tension that resonated with the power inside him.
They broke through the treeline, and the world changed abruptly. There was no gradual transition, no fringe of damaged forest. It was like stepping over an invisible line. On one side, vibrant, if unnervingly quiet, forest. On the other, a vast, grey scar on the earth.
This was not the dusty, building-filled wasteland he remembered from his previous, frantic run. The buildings were gone. Utterly gone. There were no standing walls, no collapsed roofs, no recognizable structures. Just flattened earth, covered in a fine, grey ash that looked disturbingly like pulverized stone and concrete. The land stretched out, a smooth, unnaturally level expanse devoid of any life, any rubble, anything that spoke of a city having stood here mere hours (or days?) before. It was as if a giant, hot hand had pressed down and wiped the city out of existence, leaving behind only this sterile, silent scar.
The air here was still and cold, lacking even the faint breeze of the forest. There was no smell of decay, no scent of smoke, just a dry, mineral smell from the ash. Verwel, who had been happily leading the way moments before, now walked close to Alex's leg, his tail tucked low, a low whine rumbling in his chest. His eyes, Alex noticed, were wide and dark, scanning the featureless horizon as if expecting something to rise from the grey dust.
Alex knelt, running his hand through the ash. It was fine, soft, slightly warm to the touch. It felt dead. Utterly, completely dead. This wasn't a bomb crater; it was an erasure. This was the 'burst' Xerark had spoken of, the shield being activated. It hadn't just killed the living within the city; it had consumed everything, turning stone and steel into dust.
He stood up, turning back to the treeline. The forest stood vibrant and green, a stark, almost violent contrast to the grey void. It was the edge of Xerark's barrier, the line between the sacrificed and the saved. The power inside Alex resonated powerfully here, humming like a plucked wire, as if the barrier itself was acknowledging his presence, or perhaps, the piece of its creator that resided within him.
Where do you go when the place you called home has been wiped out of existence? When the protector who saved the world turned your city to dust? When you carry a piece of that power and the knowledge of a threat still lurking? Alex looked out across the grey scar, then back at the silent forest edge. The path forward wasn't in mourning the dust; it was in understanding the power and facing what Xerark had feared. But first, he needed to know if this destruction was absolute, or if any echo of Qwent remained within the scar. He took a step forward onto the ash-covered ground, Verwel hesitant but following, leaving the edge of the living world behind.