Deep in the outskirts.

  Yes.

  The outskirts.

  Our boy almost died in the outskirts.

  Now, back to the story.

  A figure staggered between the trees, bent forward, breaths short and uneven.

  Eylin.

  "Fuck… what were those?" he muttered to himself.

  The sensation lingered.

  Raw.

  His skin prickled just remembering it.

  When those figures appeared near the carcass… something had shifted. His blood had gone cold, not from fear alone—but recognition.

  Predator recognition.

  Like prey catching the gaze of something higher on the chain.

  He dropped the bag from his shoulders and let it hit the forest floor with a dull thud.

  Silence.

  He forced himself to regulate his breathing.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  His eyes scanned the trees carefully, searching for movement, listening for the smallest irregularity.

  Nothing.

  But that meant nothing.

  His right hand throbbed violently.

  The charred skin pulsed, veins tightening beneath blackened flesh as if something underneath was trying to push outward.

  "—sssss… that hurts…"

  He grabbed his wrist, staring at it as if glaring hard enough would stop the pain.

  It didn't.

  Pain, after all, is the most honest proof of life.

  Far north of the forest, the land rose sharply.

  Piercing the skyline were the Spires.

  Tall.

  Elegant.

  Impossibly precise.

  From a distance they looked like frozen beams of moonlight stabbing into the heavens.

  Inside one such spire, in a chamber lit by floating runic lanterns and adorned with ancient paintings, a hexagonal table stood at the center of the room.

  Men and women occupied its seats.

  All but one.

  An empty chair.

  The man seated at the head of the table glanced toward it, irritation flickering across his face.

  "Hasn't she finalized her mission?" he asked, voice controlled but edged.

  Silence fell like a blade.

  One figure cloaked in an azure robe rose slowly.

  "All protocols have been preserved," he said carefully. "Lady White has requested an extension."

  A murmur rippled across the chamber.

  "Extension?" an elderly voice snapped. "We poured years into training her."

  "On what grounds does she delay?" another demanded.

  The whispers began rising like smoke.

  "Silence."

  The leader's voice wasn't loud.

  But it carried weight.

  The room froze.

  He turned back to the azure-robed figure.

  "Explain."

  The man swallowed.

  "She reports that she has located the source of the anomalous readings."

  The leader leaned forward slightly.

  "And?"

  A pause.

  "She stated… she does not wish to ruin the fun. We are to discover the answer ourselves."

  Silence returned.

  Heavy.

  Somewhere in the room, someone muttered, "Troublesome child."

  If one were particularly observant, they might notice something strange about the leader's shadow.

  It didn't quite mirror his movements.

  After dismissing the others, the chamber emptied.

  The lanterns dimmed slightly.

  His shadow stretched along the wall—

  Then separated.

  Peeling away into the shape of a woman.

  "Any news on my daughter?" the man asked quietly.

  "None, my lord," the shadow replied smoothly. "She appears to be playing with the heretics."

  He sighed.

  "Troublesome… all of them."

  Darkness swallowed the room.

  Back in the forest—

  "AAACHOOOOOOOO!"

  Birds exploded from the treetops in chaotic flutters.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  High among the branches, Lady White sniffed irritably.

  "Fuck… who's thinking about me?" she muttered, rubbing her nose.

  She stretched lazily across a thick branch, golden hair catching stray shafts of light.

  "Must be that old fogey…"

  Her eyes scanned the forest floor below.

  "…Where's the cub?"

  She frowned.

  "A little nap and he vanishes?"

  She was about to move when her gaze sharpened.

  Drag marks.

  Faint.

  But present.

  Her lips curled.

  "Or did he?"

  She dropped soundlessly from the tree and followed the barely visible trail.

  To understand how that trail formed…

  We go back.

  Eylin had not stopped running until his vision blurred.

  He collapsed against a massive tree trunk, sliding down until he sat heavily on the ground.

  His hand pulsed violently.

  Each heartbeat felt like a hammer striking bone.

  Tears streamed down his face—not from fear.

  From pain.

  White-hot.

  Blinding.

  It overwhelmed him.

  His vision darkened.

  Then—

  Black.

  He stood in nothing.

  No trees.

  No ground.

  No sky.

  Just void.

  His head pounded violently.

  "Where… am I?" he asked.

  His voice echoed endlessly, as though answering itself.

  Then pain struck again.

  Sharper.

  Veins bulged along his temples.

  Memories poured into him.

  Not his memories.

  He saw a sky that was blue.

  Clear.

  Untouched.

  He saw towers not yet cracked.

  Cities uncollapsed.

  A world before ruin.

  Before the Great Collapse.

  He clutched his head, screaming.

  "STOP!"

  The void trembled faintly.

  As if reacting.

  Or perhaps he imagined it.

  Fragments of voices.

  Shadows of events.

  Knowledge that didn't belong to him.

  He rolled across nothingness, thrashing as if gravity still existed.

  "Please—STOP!"

  The pain peaked.

  Then everything vanished.

  Consciousness inside unconsciousness dissolved.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  He lay beneath drifting clouds.

  The forest canopy above blurred in his vision.

  For a moment, dream and reality overlapped.

  He covered his eyes with his uninjured hand.

  "…Guess they were right, huh…"

  His voice was hoarse.

  "No rest for the wicked."

  He pushed himself up slowly.

  His body felt heavier.

  Different.

  He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked.

  Not toward safety.

  Just forward.

  His feet dragged slightly.

  Leaving faint trails in the dirt.

  Eventually, he found it.

  A shallow natural indentation at the base of a rock formation.

  Not deep.

  Not safe.

  But workable.

  "This will do."

  He retrieved one of the 60-centimeter canines.

  He drove it into stone.

  Strike.

  Fragments chipped away.

  Inside his head:

  Fuck. Faster. Before something smells blood.

  STAB.

  SWIPE.

  STAB.

  SWIPE.

  The rhythm formed naturally.

  Desperation shaping technique.

  Hours passed.

  The sky darkened.

  At last, a crude hollow took shape.

  Not comfortable.

  But concealing.

  That's when—

  "AAACHOOOOOOOO!"

  The sneeze echoed through the forest.

  Eylin froze.

  Sweat soaked his back instantly.

  Without hesitation he dove into the hollow and dragged debris across the entrance, sealing himself inside.

  His breathing went shallow.

  Silent.

  Outside—

  Soft footsteps approached.

  And just beyond the debris-sealed cave entrance—

  Lady White smiled faintly.

  "Oh cub…"

  She crouched lightly, fingers brushing the disturbed earth.

  "I can still smell you."