Crimson & Light

The forest was shrouded in a soft mist, the glow of the magical trees muted but still enchanting in the early light. The air felt damp and thick, carrying a subtle hum that echoed through the silence. The group stirred awake, some slower than others.

Thorne crouched near a small pile of damp wood, his brow furrowed with determination. "This wood's wetter than a frog in a storm!" he grumbled, wrestling with a flint and steel that clearly had no interest in cooperating. Each failed spark elicited a groan of frustration, and his poorly constructed fire pit didn't help matters.

Jane, still groggy but amused, stifled a giggle behind her hand. "Maybe if you dried the wood first?" she suggested.

Thorne shot her a look of mock offense. "What d'ya think I'm tryin' to do here, Miss Genius? Blow it dry with my mind?"

Aria, already rolling up her bedroll with practiced efficiency, muttered, "Knowing you, you'd just blow it to pieces instead."

Thorne threw her a dramatic scowl. "Ain't no need for sass this early in the mornin', Miss Perfect."

The exchange earned a few chuckles, even from Changra, who had just finished shaking the sleep from his head. He watched them bicker, his lips curling into a small smile despite himself.

They're a strange bunch, but it feels… good, somehow. Like maybe I belong here. Even if I don't understand why.

Berethia stepped forward, her movements graceful and precise, as if the morning mist obeyed her presence. "Let me help," she said softly, kneeling near Thorne's sad excuse for a fire pit.

With a casual flick of her fingers, a small flame ignited, licking hungrily at the damp wood. Within seconds, the fire roared to life, its warm glow banishing the morning chill.

Thorne leaned back, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Guess ya didn't need my muscles for that one," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Berethia gave a light laugh, brushing off his comment. Her gaze shifted to Changra, her eyes holding his for just a moment longer than necessary. The subtle smile she offered seemed both reassuring and, somehow, unnerving.

Changra felt a knot tighten in his chest. Why does she make it all look so easy? And why does she keep smiling at me like that? Am I overthinking this?

Shaking off the thought, he moved to help Jane pack up her belongings. "So," he said, trying to distract himself, "what's the plan today?"

Jane glanced at the map, her finger tracing a faint, glowing line. "Stick to the path, no more detours." Her tone was light, but her earlier unease lingered beneath the surface.

The group finished their preparations as the fire crackled behind them, its warmth providing a fleeting sense of normalcy. But even as they set off into the misty forest, Changra couldn't shake the feeling that something was off—like the hum of the forest was growing louder, almost expectant.

Mid Scene: Journey Resumes

The group moved through the forest, their footsteps muffled by the spongy, moss-covered ground. The vibrant colors of the trees, which had been a comforting backdrop for days, faded into muted shades of gray and brown. The air felt heavier, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Jane glanced around nervously, her grip tightening on Changra's arm. "Why is it so quiet?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint hum of magic that seemed to emanate from the trees.

Changra noticed it too. The usual chirps, rustles, and distant calls of strange creatures were gone, leaving an eerie stillness that pressed down on them. Inner monologue: Even the weird caterpillar-fox things aren't around. Is that… bad?

Thorne, walking a few paces ahead, turned and grinned, clearly oblivious to the tension. "What? Y'all scared of a few quiet trees? Ain't no trees gonna eat us… right?" He paused, pretending to inspect a nearby trunk with exaggerated caution. "I mean, this one does look kinda shifty."

Aria sighed heavily, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Thorne, if a tree does eat you, I'm not saving you. Just so we're clear."

Thorne straightened up, mock indignation plastered on his face. "That's cold, Aria. Real cold."

Despite herself, Jane giggled softly, loosening her grip on Changra's arm just a little.

Berethia, walking slightly ahead of the group, came to an abrupt stop. She turned to face them, her face calm and composed. "We should take a detour," she said, her voice carrying an air of quiet authority.

Aria immediately tensed. "Another detour? Why? The map doesn't show anything dangerous ahead."

Berethia smiled, her expression warm but unreadable. "The map can't predict everything. Trust me, this path will be safer."

Changra studied her face, searching for any hint of doubt. Why does she always sound so certain? How does she know so much?

Aria's eyes narrowed, her skepticism clear. "Safer, huh? And what exactly are we avoiding?"

Berethia's smile didn't falter. "Call it a feeling. I'd rather not take unnecessary risks." Her tone was so soothing, so convincing, that even Aria seemed momentarily disarmed.

Changra felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside. Jane, still uneasy herself, glanced at the others for reassurance. "If Berethia thinks it's safer, maybe we should listen?" she offered hesitantly.

Thorne shrugged, clearly indifferent. "Long as we ain't walkin' into somethin' that's gonna eat us, I'm good."

Aria let out a sharp exhale, crossing her arms. "Fine. But if this detour gets us into trouble, I'm holding you responsible."

Berethia's eyes twinkled, though her smile didn't quite reach them. "Fair enough. Shall we?"

The group continued, following Berethia as the path veered away from the marked trail on the map. The trees grew denser, their twisted branches creating shadowy arches overhead. The heavy silence persisted, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

This feels wrong, Changra thought, his eyes darting to Berethia. But why? She's been nothing but kind… right?

The group set up camp in a quiet clearing, the soft glow of the trees painting shifting shadows across the forest floor. Dinner was subdued—just dried meat and berries—everyone too exhausted to hold much conversation. Thorne wrestled with his bedroll, grumbling loudly as he tried to make it lie flat.

"This thing's fightin' me harder than that bridge!" he muttered, flopping down with a huff. "If somethin' eats us tonight, let it be me first. I ain't got the energy to run."

Jane giggled softly, though her smile faded quickly as she turned her attention to her sketchbook. One by one, the group settled in, the weariness of the day pulling them into sleep.

Changra lay on his back, staring at the canopy of twisting branches above. The forest hummed faintly, like it was alive, the sound comforting but unnerving at the same time. He tried to focus on the rhythm of the hum, to let it lull him to sleep, but his mind wouldn't stop turning. Why did it always feel like something was lurking just out of sight? Why was he here at all?

Eventually, sleep overtook him, though uneasily.

Changra stood in an endless dark room. The floor beneath him was cold and damp, and the oppressive silence pressed against his ears. It felt suffocating, like the air itself was thick with something unseen.

"Where… am I?" His voice echoed around him, but it sounded wrong—distorted, hollow.

Shapes began to form in the shadows, faint outlines of figures that flickered like candles about to go out. They moved closer, their presence heavy, their forms indistinct but undeniably there.

"You're useless," one hissed, the voice sharp and venomous.

"No one wanted you," another whispered, its tone cold and detached.

The words hit him like physical blows, cutting into his chest with each syllable. The voices were familiar, but warped. He knew them, but they didn't belong here.

A shadowy figure stepped forward, its movements jerky and unnatural. It raised a hand, and a sharp crack split the air. Changra flinched, his side flaring with a phantom pain so real it made him gasp.

Laughter erupted, distant at first but growing louder. It was cruel and mocking, circling around him like a predator playing with its prey.

"Why are you even here?" another voice whispered, closer this time.

Changra pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block it out. "Stop it," he muttered. "Stop."

The shadows pressed closer, and the pain in his body spread—old wounds, old bruises, memories forcing themselves to the surface. It wasn't real, but it felt so vivid. He couldn't breathe.

A smaller figure emerged from the shadows. It was the shape of a child, but its eyes were empty, lifeless. It tilted its head to the side, as if curious.

"Why?" it asked, the single word echoing in the endless void.

The question burrowed into his mind, repeating over and over. The shadows loomed larger, and the laughter grew deafening.

Changra bolted upright in his bedroll, his chest heaving. His hands gripped the blanket tightly as he struggled to steady his breathing. The forest was quiet, the hum of magic faint but steady. Yet the oppressive feeling from his dream clung to him like a second skin.

"Changra?" Jane's soft voice broke through the stillness. She was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes. "Are you okay?"

He nodded quickly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Yeah… just a bad dream."

Jane looked at him for a moment, like she wanted to say something, but instead gave him a small, reassuring smile before lying back down.

He stared into the trees, his heart still racing. The shadows of the forest seemed longer now, darker. The question from his dream echoed in his mind, chilling and unshakable.

Why?