The hours crawled by, each one an eternity carved out of pain and creeping cold. Alex lay precariously on the broad, rough-barked branch, the throb in his shoulder a constant, sickening drumbeat against the strange symphony of the Weirdwood night. He'd managed to tear a strip from the hem of his already ruined tunic and bind it tightly around the deep gashes, but blood, dark and sticky in the eerie bioluminescent glow, still managed to seep through, plastering the makeshift bandage to his skin. Each breath was a conscious effort, each shift of weight a fresh agony.
Below, the Gloom Pig – he'd decided the name fit the tenacious, shadow-clad predator – remained. It paced restlessly around the base of the colossal tree, its yellow eyes, like malevolent embers, rarely leaving him. Occasionally, it would stop, tilt its head as if listening to something beyond Alex's perception, then resume its patrol, a silent, furry sentinel of doom. It hadn't tried to leap for him again after its initial failed attempts, seeming to understand the futility. Instead, it had settled into a patient siege, confident that hunger, thirst, or his wounds would eventually bring him down. Alex knew it was right. He was losing warmth, and a dangerous lethargy was beginning to cloud his thoughts. The Speed Force, that vibrant wellspring of energy, felt like a dry, cracked riverbed within him, offering no solace, no spark of its former power. He was running on empty, the dregs of adrenaline long since burned away.
He tried to focus, to stay awake, but his eyelids felt like lead weights. Images swam before his eyes: the searing flash of lightning that had ended one life, the fiery chaos of the battlefield that had begun another, the snarling face of the wolf-helmed warrior. Were they still looking for him? Had his impossible escape even registered amidst the wider slaughter? He was a nobody, a glitch. But a glitch with a power no one else seemed to possess. That made him a target, or at least a curiosity. He wasn't sure which was worse.
A shiver wracked his body, unrelated to the cooling air. It was the chill of blood loss, of shock. He pressed himself tighter against the trunk of the tree, seeking some imagined warmth, some stability. The bark, though rough, felt strangely comforting in its solidity. He found himself tracing the intricate patterns of its surface, patterns that seemed to glow with a faint, internal light, much like the walls of that first, strange room. Was there a connection? His mind, fuzzy with pain and exhaustion, couldn't grasp the thought.
He must have drifted off, because a sudden, sharp crack from below snapped him back to full, panicked alertness. His head jerked up, his heart lurching. The Gloom Pig was no longer pacing. It was at the base of the tree, not directly beneath him, but a little way off, and it was digging. Powerful claws tore at the earth and roots, sending showers of dirt and glowing moss flying. It was trying to undermine the tree, or perhaps create a ramp of disturbed earth to give it a better launching point.
Shit. Clever bastard.
Alex's blood ran cold. He had underestimated its cunning. He had to do something, but what? He had no projectiles, no way to fight back from this height. His voice was a hoarse whisper; shouting would be useless. He tried to summon the Speed Force, to feel for that familiar tingle, that coiled spring. Nothing. Just a hollow ache. He was utterly spent.
The creature dug with a relentless, focused fury, occasionally pausing to look up at him, its yellow eyes glinting with what Alex could only interpret as smug anticipation. The tree was immense, ancient; it would take the creature hours, maybe days, to do any real damage to its stability. But Alex didn't have hours. He was already fading.
He closed his eyes, a wave of despair washing over him. This was it. This was how it ended. Not in a blaze of glory, not even in a quick, clean death on the battlefield, but slowly, ignominiously, treed by a pig in an alien forest, bleeding out while his killer patiently waited for him to drop. The irony of his imaginary new name, "I, Am Speed," mocked him. He was anything but. He was trapped, wounded, and utterly helpless.
A faint sound, almost imperceptible beneath the creature's digging and the constant hum of the forest, pricked at his consciousness. A soft thwip, like a bird's wing cutting the air, followed by a choked, gurgling cry from below.
Alex's eyes snapped open.
The Gloom Pig was no longer digging. It was standing rigid, its head cocked at an unnatural angle. A dark fletching, almost invisible against its mottled fur, protruded from its thick neck, just below the jawline. Its yellow eyes, moments before filled with predatory cunning, now held a look of stunned surprise, rapidly clouding over with pain. It took a shaky step, then another, its powerful legs suddenly uncoordinated. A thin trickle of dark blood welled around the shaft of the arrow. It opened its mouth, but only a wet, rattling sound emerged. Then, with a shudder that ran through its entire body, it collapsed onto its side, its limbs twitching feebly for a few moments before falling still.
Silence. A profound, ringing silence, broken only by Alex's own ragged breathing and the distant, alien calls of the Weirdwood.
He stared, uncomprehending. Dead. The creature that had tormented him for hours, that had been patiently waiting to feast on his corpse, was dead. Killed by an arrow. An arrow that had come from… where?
He scanned the surrounding forest, his eyes wide, searching for any sign of his unseen savior. The bioluminescent flora cast long, dancing shadows, making it impossible to see clearly beyond a few dozen feet. Was it one of the combatants from the battle? Had they followed him? Or was it something else? Someone else?
A flicker of movement in the dense canopy of a neighboring tree, slightly higher than his own perch, caught his eye. A figure, cloaked and hooded, blended almost perfectly with the shadows and the glowing leaves. They were utterly still, observing him. Alex couldn't make out any features, only a silhouette against the pulsating light of the forest.
The figure remained motionless for a long moment, as if assessing him. Alex, despite the sudden reprieve, felt a new wave of apprehension. Savior or new threat? In this world, the lines seemed to be permanently blurred.
Then, the figure moved. Not with the explosive, jarring bursts of his own speed, but with a silent, fluid grace that was almost as unnerving. They descended the tree with an ease that spoke of long familiarity with this vertical world, their movements economical and precise. As they reached the forest floor, they paused beside the fallen Gloom Pig, nudging it with a booted foot. Satisfied it was dead, the figure then turned and began to approach Alex's tree.
Alex's heart, which had just begun to slow, picked up its frantic rhythm again. He tried to push himself up further on the branch, to make himself less of a target, but the movement sent a fresh wave of agony through his shoulder, and he slumped back down, a groan escaping his lips.
The figure stopped at the base of his tree, looking up. The hood still obscured their face, but Alex could feel their gaze on him, intense and unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them moved nor spoke. The only sounds were the drip of blood from Alex's shoulder onto the leaves below and the ever-present, alien hum of the forest.
Then, a voice, low and surprisingly melodic, though with a gravelly undertone, broke the silence. It wasn't a language Alex recognized, yet somehow, impossibly, he understood the meaning, the intent behind the words, as if they were being translated directly into his mind.
"You bleed. And you are out of place, sky-fallen one."
Sky-fallen one. The term sent a shiver down Alex's spine. They knew. Or at least, they suspected.
Alex swallowed, his throat dry. "Who… who are you?" he managed, his voice barely a whisper.
The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, they reached up and, with a slow, deliberate movement, pushed back their hood.
The face revealed in the dim, pulsating light of the forest was striking, and utterly alien. Skin the color of polished teak, with faint, bioluminescent patterns swirling across high cheekbones, mirroring the flora around them. Large, almond-shaped eyes that glowed with a soft, amber light, much like the creature's, but filled with an undeniable intelligence and… was that a hint of sympathy? Pointed ears, like a stereotypical elf from his old world's fantasy novels, peeked out from beneath a mass of dark, intricately braided hair into which small, glowing seed pods were woven. The features were sharp, angular, possessing an ageless, ethereal beauty that was both captivating and unsettling. The being was androgynous, their build lean and wiry beneath the dark, practical-looking leather and woven-fiber clothing. A longbow was slung across their back, and a quiver of arrows identical to the one that had dispatched the Gloom Stalker rested on their hip.
This was no human. This was something else entirely, a native of this bizarre, dangerous world.
The being's amber eyes studied him, taking in his tattered clothes, his pale face, the blood soaking his shoulder. "I am Kaelen," the being finally said, their voice still carrying that strange, direct-to-mind quality. "And you are attracting unwanted attention. The Stalker was but the first. Others will follow its scent. And yours."
Kaelen gestured with a slender, long-fingered hand towards Alex's bleeding shoulder. "That wound needs tending. And this is no place for a fledgling to rest." Fledgling? Was that what they thought he was?
Alex didn't have the strength to argue, or even to question further. The blood loss, the pain, the sheer, overwhelming weirdness of it all, was finally catching up to him. The forest around him began to tilt and sway, the bioluminescent lights blurring into streaks. Kaelen's face, concerned and alien, was the last thing he saw before darkness, a true, welcoming darkness this time, claimed him.
He felt strong, surprisingly gentle hands securing him, a sense of weightlessness, and then nothing at all. Rescued. For now. But into what, he had no idea.