Mist still clung to the clearing like a second skin, tasting of iron and damp stone.
The forest had not remembered how to breathe.
The serpent's three heads remained poised above the boy, each one a separate current of thought.
A slow vibration brushed against his skull—not sound, but a presence that shaped itself into meaning.
You hear me, the pressure said.
The boy's black eyes narrowed a fraction. His lips parted just enough to let a single, flat question fall.
"How," he asked, voice low and toneless, "are you speaking in my head?"
Because you let it happen, the serpent replied, the words a ripple of cold through his mind. The pulse you released bound us for a heartbeat. I only followed the thread.
Valen—though he never thought of himself by that name—did not flinch. He simply watched the slow undulation of the massive coils, measuring their reach, their weight, the speed of each subtle shift.
The serpent lowered its first head until venomous breath misted the air between them.
This is no ordinary forest, and you are no ordinary wanderer, the mind-voice continued. Something in you answered when I called. It listens still.
The boy's gaze stayed fixed. "What are you."
A deep rumble rolled through the ground like distant thunder.
I am Keros, the thought came at last, ancient and deliberate. Exile of the lower domain, breaker of armies, hunter of kings.
A pause, heavy as stone.
But that was before chains and silence. Now I am what you see.
The boy gave no sign of recognition, only a slow blink.
And you… Keros tasted the thought before releasing it. You are unshaped. Yet something sleeps inside you…
A tremor passed through all three heads.
…a darkness older than this forest. I do not know its name, only that it is no prey's spark. It must be honed—or it will consume you first.
Wind hissed through the trees, but the boy did not move.
"You think I am weak," he said at last, voice as even as the mist.
I know you are, Keros replied without malice. This world beyond the wilds will break you before you take a second breath.
The lowest hunters there could kill you in a blink.
The boy's fingers curled slightly at his side, the only answer.
But you are also… precise, the serpent admitted, each word carrying a reluctant respect.
I have never felt a strike like the pulse you unleashed. If you remain here, you will starve before the next moon. If you leave as you are, you will die before dawn.
Train. Sharpen what sleeps within. Only then will the world beyond these trees fail to swallow you.
The boy stared back, unreadable, the dark inside him silent but listening.
The mist thickened once more, drawing a ring around them—serpent and boy—until forest and sky faded into a single, endless gray.
So, Keros said, his mind-voice lowering to a deep whisper. Will you remain a shadow of nothing… or learn to wield the night that waits in you?
The boy did not answer immediately.
He simply stood in the hush of the wilderness, black eyes reflecting the coiled giant before him, and the sile
nce that followed was heavy enough to bend the branches.