Waking up felt like surfacing from underwater. Consciousness came in waves — first sound, the soft crackling of firewood, the rustling of leaves in the wind — then scent: bitter herbs, sweet smoke, something metallic. And finally, pain.

  Lysa tried to move and groaned. A weight pulled on her chest, and every breath hurt as if her body were being torn from the inside.

  “Stay still. Your ribs are still unstable,” said a calm, firm voice with an accent she didn’t recognize at first.

  Her eyes opened with effort. The ceiling was wooden, but irregular — intertwined roots reinforced with strips of leather and branches. Was this a hut? A hunting shelter? No... the structure was alive. Grown, not built.

  The figure leaning over her was a tall woman with grayish skin and braids cascading down to her waist. Her eyes were a deep violet hue, and her left arm was covered in glowing white inscriptions — not tattoos, but code. Pure. Living. A kind Lysa had never seen before.

  “Where am I?” she whispered, her throat dry.

  “In a refuge. On the borders of the Rhévar Forest. You were found unconscious, fallen among twisted roots. You were being followed by a trail of unstable code. You nearly died.”

  Lysa tried to sit up, but the woman pressed her shoulder firmly.

  “Not yet.”

  The warrior stepped back, allowing Lysa to see more of the place: walls made of tangled branches, small lanterns floating with faint energy, containers filled with iridescent liquids. Others were there too, silent — two figures near the entrance, armed but at rest. An old man with a bone staff, and a child with pale skin and hollow eyes, simply watching.

  “Who are you people?” Lysa asked.

  The woman crossed her arms.

  “We call ourselves the Silenced. We are those the System tried to delete... and failed. Renegades, yes, like you. But of a different kind. We did not rebel. We survived forgetting.”

  Lysa blinked, confused.

  “How did you find me?”

  “You carry too much noise. Your code vibrates with a frequency the world notices. Your marks... are no longer from a simple hack. You're becoming something new. And that... drew us in. Or frightened us. Depends who you ask.”

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  Lysa tried sitting up again, with effort. Her vision wavered.

  “My friends? Kael? Andrel?”

  The woman hesitated.

  “We found only you.”

  “I need to find them.”

  “And die in the process?”

  Lysa didn’t answer. She just stared.

  The woman sighed and approached again.

  “My name is Veyla. I was a trainer at the Palace of Echoes, before they denied me a Value and erased me from the Registry. I survived... among the roots. I learned from the forest. I learned from the silence.”

  She lowered her voice.

  “I can help you. But don’t rush.”

  Lysa clenched her fists. The feeling of helplessness burned more than the physical pain.

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Two days.”

  Two days. Her face paled.

  “The Supreme Executor... is coming. The System gave us five days.”

  Veyla looked troubled for a moment, as if the mention of that creature awakened something ancient.

  “We’ve already felt him. A shadow above the canopy. But he doesn’t set foot in the forest. Not yet.”

  The child watching from the shadows murmured:

  “He fears the living who don’t exist.”

  Lysa turned to her, surprised.

  The girl didn’t blink. She only repeated:

  “We are not counted. We are not remembered. We are the code fallen into forgetting.”

  Veyla knelt beside Lysa.

  “You need to recover. If you truly want to seek your friends, I can guide you to the forest’s edge. But know this: if they’re alive, they felt you fall too. And they may be trying to return.”

  “Or dead,” Lysa said flatly.

  Veyla placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Or alive, hoping you haven’t given up.”

  Night fell like a heavy veil.

  Lysa, though weakened, walked slowly through the shelter. Her wounds had been partially healed with an ointment that burned like living fire — but it worked. Breathing still hurt, but she could move.

  Veyla walked at her side.

  “Still planning to leave tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even without knowing where to go?”

  Lysa nodded.

  “The System always knows where I am. I won’t give it the privilege of seeing me stand still.”

  Veyla stopped beside a thick root forming a natural seat. She sat.

  “The forest has ways of hiding those who know how to listen. But if you’re leaving... there’s something I want to give you.”

  She drew a dagger from her waist. The metal was black as shadow, its edges etched with tiny runic circuits — not for damage, but for cutting magical energy.

  “A blade made to sever bonds. Literally. Any active ability, enchantment, surveillance code... it cuts through. A weapon for one who lives off the map.”

  Lysa took the gift with reverence. It was light, yet heavy with meaning.

  “Thank you.”

  “Even if you never return... take something of us with you. And if you find others like you, tell them: there is a place among the trees where the forgotten still breathe.”

  The next morning, Veyla led Lysa to the forest’s edge. There, the world seemed corroded by reality: a plain of cracked stones, a sky covered in clouds too still to be natural. The System ruled there. Its laws resumed. Its eyes returned.

  Before parting, Veyla said:

  “If you survive... come back. Silence can be home too.”

  Lysa smiled — a small, almost involuntary gesture.

  “Silence... was never home. But maybe... it can be shelter.”

  She left.

  Alone again.

  But alive.

  And behind her, in the shadows of the trees, the pale girl whispered:

  “The code recognizes her. The root accepts her. The fall is near.”