Alex paused, eyes wide, breath caught between heartbeats. For a split second, he thought a creature from the forest stood at the door. Relief followed in the form of a man.

  Draped in a long heavy brown fur coat the man stood by the door, frozen in placefrozen. The light of Iris’s blades flared brighter for just a few seconds, long enough to reveal the stranger’s face. His silver gaze was locked on the tip of the sword hovering inches from his eyes. Long, dark amber hair framed his jaw before resting on his shoulders, giving him a rough, weathered look. His bearded face made him resemble a beast more than a man.

  “Sorry for… intruding,” the man said slowly, his gaze still fixed on the sword’s tip before shifting to Roric.

  “No need to be sorry,” Roric replied, sword held tight in tense hands, arms coiled and ready.

  The man’s gaze lingered on Roric, and for a terrifying second, Alex’s mind raced. He imagined a dozen ways this could go wrong. His grip tightened instinctively as his sword’s vibration rose to a soft, bone-rattling hum.

  Then the man’s attention shifted.

  His eyes moved to Iris. He studied her briefly before pausing on her glowing blades. He spoke, quietly, reverently, in a language none of them understood, his voice low and deliberate as he traced the flowing symbols etched into the metal with his gaze.

  The glow of Iris’s blades dimmed. Not extinguished, but soothed.

  Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing into a sharp stare. Any lingering haze of sleep vanished as she tightened her grip, her stance lowering, coiled and ready.

  Alex swallowed hard. His sword answered with a faint, uneasy murmur.

  As if sensing the shift, the man’s gaze snapped toward Alex. He froze. Eyes locked onto the black blade.

  “Mnemosyne’s Silence.”

  The words left his lips in a stunned whisper. His eyes went wide, as if he weren’t staring at a sword but a ghost.

  The silence that followed felt fragile. Like a breath held too long.

  Roric didn’t lower his sword. Neither did Iris. And Alex… Alex watched, his gaze fixed on the bearded man.

  Slowly, the man raised both hands away from his coat, palms open. His fingers were rough, scarred hands that had known work and loss in equal measure.

  “I mean no harm,” he said quietly. His voice was low and weathered, the kind that belonged to long nights and longer regrets. “Seeing that blade… It startled me. That’s all.” His eyes lingered on the sword for a heartbeat longer before he forced them away, jaw tightening as if the word itself tasted bitter.

  Noticing the man’s reaction, Alex glanced down at the blade. Its vibration had softened to a restrained murmur.

  He frowned. ‘Mnemosyne’s Silence?’ The words echoed uncomfortably in his mind. He didn’t know why.

  “This is my home,” the man continued, gesturing faintly around the cabin. “Or what’s left of it.” He hesitated before adding, “I didn’t expect to find anyone else here… not this deep into the forest.”

  Roric studied him, eyes sharp and unreadable. “You picked a bad time to come back.”

  A humorless breath escaped the man. “I know.”

  The tension stretched. Alex could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears. His thoughts were blank, save for the sight of a tense Iris, a ready Roric, and a stranger standing in the doorway of a cabin in a cursed forest.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Classic horror setup.

  ‘Not now,’ Alex scolded himself.

  Inch by inch, Roric lowered his blade, not fully, but enough to signal restraint. “Then you’ll explain,” he said. “Slowly.”

  The man nodded once. “Fair.” He gestured toward the side room. “There’s something on the table. I hope it will explain enough.”

  Iris’s eyes flickered to him, then to Roric. He gave a single nod.

  After a pause, she moved into the room. Her blades dimmed as she went, leaving the cabin lit only by the faint mist-light bleeding through the windows.

  Alex’s heart rate slowed, but he remained silent. Watching. Observing.

  Moments later, Iris returned. In her hand was a simple wooden frame. She lifted one blade slightly, its faint glow illuminating what it held.

  Alex stepped closer. It was an image.

  Three figures stood captured within it.

  The man, younger, softer around the eyes, stood by what looked like a riverbank. Beside him was a woman with a tired smile, one hand resting gently on his arm. Between them stood a boy, no older than ten, grinning wide, as if the world had never taught him fear.

  Alex stared.

  “An image?” he murmured, brow furrowing. His thoughts tangled. ‘How…’

  The question never quite formed.

  Iris swallowed. “Where did you find this lost magic?” she asked quietly.

  Alex’s eyes flickered towards her. ‘lost magic?‘

  Roric noticed the man’s expression darken. “Where are they now?” he asked, his voice rougher than before.

  The man’s shoulders sagged.

  “My wife,” he said after a long pause, “was killed by one of the things that roam these woods.” He turned slightly, gaze drifting toward the dark treeline. “My son…” His voice faltered… just once. “The forest took him.”

  Silence pressed in again. Heavier this time.

  “I’ve been searching ever since,” the man finished, eyes fixed on the mist. “Hoping the forest might give something back. Or at least an answer.”

  The cabin creaked softly around them. Outside, the forest waited.

  Alex wasn’t a mind reader, but he didn’t need to be. The grief in the man’s eyes was unmistakable, distant, hollow, as if he were forever staring at something just out of reach.

  Roric exhaled slowly. The sound seemed loud in the quiet cabin. His sword lowered the rest of the way before he sheathed it fully. Iris followed a heartbeat later, the glow of her blades fading until only dull steel remained.

  However, Alex’s sword did not fall silent. It continued its low, steady murmur, but his attention was elsewhere.

  Roric’s gaze shifted to Iris. She gave a small nod. Then he shifted to Alex.

  Alex hesitated for a moment before nodding as well.

  Roric sighed and stepped aside. “You can come in,” he said. “For now.”

  Relief crossed the man’s face, subtle, but unmistakable. He bowed his head slightly. “Thank you. Truly.” He closed the door behind him and shrugged out of his fur coat, revealing a thick leather tunic beneath. “I’ll make myself useful,” he said. “I brought food. Fresh.”

  He set down what he brought: a prepared deer leg, wrapped tightly in cloth. The scent of smoke and blood lingered faintly in the air.

  “I hunt when I can,” he added. “It’s safer than wandering.”

  With practiced ease, he began arranging firewood. Soon, the hearth caught, flames flickering upward and casting warm light across old wood and stained glass alike.

  The cabin felt… different.

  The warmth settled deep, lifting spirits none of them had realized were fraying. Roric took his place near the door. Iris sat beneath a window, arms wrapped around her legs, and Alex sat near the hearth, watching the fire crackle to life, his sword still humming softly in his grip.

  For now, that didn’t matter. The warmth was blissful.

  Outside, the forest pressed close. Patient as ever.

  And somewhere beyond the door, something listened.