CHAPTER 39 — THE BREATH OF THE FORGOTTEN
The forest swallowed them the moment they stepped through the portal.
Its branches were skeletal, twisted like the fingers of ancient corpses. The air felt thick—heavy enough to choke on. No stars pierced the canopy overhead. No moonlight reached the soil. Only a deep pulsing gloom hummed around them, vibrating like the breath of something enormous hiding beneath the earth.
Atreus stumbled, clutching his ribs. The crown above his head flickered like a dying ember—then flared violently, sending ripples through the air.
Kratos steadied him.
"Easy."
"I—I'm fine," Atreus lied. But the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Freya stepped forward, her gaze sweeping the forest. Every leaf seemed to watch them.
"This is the Nightwood. A realm fragment torn from the World Tree itself. The Veiled Ones built sanctuaries here… and graves."
"Is this where the crown was made?" Atreus asked.
Freya nodded. "Yes. And where many died for it."
The silence deepened. Even Kratos felt the air tighten.
Something was listening.
Atreus paused, eyes narrowing.
"Father… do you hear that?"
"No."
"That's the problem."
For the first time since entering, Atreus seemed terrified. Truly terrified. His fingers twitched uncontrollably, runes along his arm glowing faint gold.
Freya knelt beside him. "The crown is awakening again. It reacts to danger… and the Nightwood is full of it."
Kratos's jaw tightened.
"What danger?"
He didn't have to wait for an answer.
The trees moved.
Not from wind—but from instinct.
Branches curled inward, bending like spines arching. The earth cracked open in thin lines, leaking a cold mist that wrapped around their ankles. The forest itself seemed to inhale.
Atreus clutched his chest.
"There's something under us."
Kratos's blades materialized in flame.
"Stand back."
The ground rose.
Slowly.
Like a titan of stone pulling itself from the deep.
Except it wasn't stone.
Freya whispered in horror.
"A Nøkkur… a Guardian of the Nightwood."
It towered above them—its body made of gnarled bark, moss, and bones half-eaten by rot. Its head was a hollow stump with a single golden flame burning inside. Its limbs stretched unnaturally long, dripping sap like blood.
Atreus stepped back, trembling.
"It's empty… but something's driving it."
"Yes," Freya said. "The Veiled Ones. They sense the crown—they want it back."
The creature roared, shaking the trees. Birds—if they could still be called birds—fell dead from above, shriveling mid-air.
Kratos pushed Atreus behind him.
"Stay close."
The Nøkkur charged.
Kratos launched himself forward, blades slamming into its wooden flesh. Splinters exploded outward. But the creature didn't slow. Its massive arm swept across its body, knocking Kratos like a rag doll into a tree that shattered on impact.
Freya's vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around the beast's legs.
"Hold!"
It ripped free instantly, dragging her across the soil.
Atreus raised his bow—hands shaking—and drew back the string. A black arrow made of pure shadow formed in his grip.
"Don't—" Freya tried to warn him, but she was too late.
Atreus fired.
The arrow pierced the Nøkkur's chest and detonated in a burst of gold-black flame.
The creature shrieked, falling to its knees.
Atreus gasped, staring at his hands as if they belonged to someone else.
"I didn't… I didn't call that. The crown did."
Kratos stood, cracking the charred remains of the broken tree from his shoulders.
"Whatever power it gives… reject it."
"I'm trying," Atreus whispered, voice breaking. "But it's like… like it's in my blood now."
The Nøkkur wasn't dead.
Its hollow stump-head snapped toward Atreus.
The golden fire inside its skull flared.
Then…
It spoke.
Not with a voice.
With nine voices speaking in unison through a hole in reality.
"THE HOST OF FATE RETURNS."
Atreus staggered backward.
"Father—"
Kratos stepped in front of him, eyes burning like molten iron.
"You will not touch him."
The Nøkkur rose again, doubling in size, branches stretching like skeletal wings. It slammed a massive root-fist into the ground, sending a shockwave that threw all three of them apart.
Atreus hit the dirt hard. The world spiraled.
The crown flashed—once, twice—then unleashed a violent burst of energy that pushed the monster back. But as the magic left him, Atreus screamed, clutching his skull.
Freya sprinted toward him.
"He's losing control—Kratos, keep the beast away!"
Kratos burned through the air, landing on the creature's shoulders. He plunged the Blades of Chaos into the glowing flame inside its skull. The beast howled, thrashing. Kratos held firm, pulling with brutal force until the flame sputtered.
But the flame didn't die.
Instead, it spread—like fire catching oil—racing along the creature's limbs, turning its massive form into a torch of golden wrath.
The Nøkkur's final roar shook the forest.
Kratos braced himself.
The creature detonated.
A shockwave of fire swept through the trees, incinerating everything within a hundred paces. Kratos flew backward, crashing to the ground as ash rained like snow.
Silence.
Smoke curled through the scorched clearing.
Freya crawled toward Atreus, her hands glowing with healing magic.
"Stay with me, boy. Breathe."
Atreus gasped, eyes flickering open. "The voices… they're getting louder."
Kratos pushed himself up, limping, blood dripping from his arm.
"What do they say?"
Atreus swallowed hard.
"They're calling me something."
Freya froze. "What name?"
Atreus's voice trembled.
"The One Who Ends Paths."
Kratos's grip tightened around his blades.
"They lie."
"No," Atreus whispered. "They know things. Things I shouldn't know. Things about you… and about what's coming."
Freya shook her head.
"That crown feeds on fear. Ignore it."
"I can't!" Atreus snapped, voice warping slightly, layered with a faint echo. "They're trying to show me—visions—futures—endings—"
He dug his fingers into the dirt, trembling violently.
Kratos placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You are Atreus. You are not a vessel."
Atreus's eyes met his—and Kratos saw fear he had never seen before.
"Father… what if I become something I can't turn back from?"
Kratos didn't blink.
"Then I will break fate itself."
Freya stood, her expression hardening.
"We must move. Quickly. The Veiled Ones know exactly where we are now."
"And they will come for him," Kratos growled.
Atreus nodded weakly.
"Then let's go. Before I lose… whatever control I have left."
The Nightwood rumbled beneath them again—deep, distant, hungry.
And as they fled into the darkness, Atreus whispered without meaning to, his voice layered with something ancient and cold:
"They are awake."