The forest swallowed her whole.
Absinthe ran faster, feet pounding against the earth, breath heavy, uneven, desperate.
The world had shifted around her—the sky had gone dark, the wind roared in protest, but she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
"Obsidian!" she called, voice breaking through the storm of her own emotions.
No response.
Branches snapped overhead—a blur of movement. She knew he was close.
But would he listen?
Or had she already lost him to the mutation?
"Obsidian, stop!" Absinthe's voice cracked, raw with desperation.
"You don't have to run—I just want to help!"
Her breath was uneven, feet pounding against the forest floor, chasing him through the shadows.
Above her—branches snapped.
Obsidian vaulted from treetop to treetop, movements erratic, unstable, yet frustratingly fast.
"Obsidian!" she called again, pleading, demanding, voice carrying through the roaring wind.
For a moment—just a fleeting second—his golden eyes flickered back toward her.
Recognition, Hesitation.
His body stuttered mid-leap, as if fighting the instinct to stop.
Then—gone. He surged forward, vanishing deeper into the forest.
Absinthe felt it—the distance growing, the sinking weight in her chest.
She refused to let him disappear again.
Absinthe pushed deeper into the forest, the air thick with shadows, the wind howling through the trees.
The deeper she went, the darker the world became—as if the forest was swallowing her whole. A looming worry stirred in her chest, her breath hitching as her steps faltered. For a moment—just a flicker of instinct—she stopped, eyes darting across the darkened treetops, spinning wildly, searching. She knew he would be here somewhere.
Then—
Her body emitted a faint glow, silver light bleeding into the heavy darkness. She squinted, forcing her eyes to adjust, scanning the shadows above. A figure stilled in the treetops. Golden eyes burned through the gloom, sharp, unmoving, locked onto her.Obsidian stood frozen, perched among the tangled branches, watching her in silence.Absinthe met his gaze.
And the world held its breath.
****************************************************************************
Dark Forest
Absinthe didn't move.
She refused to.
Obsidian was still there, hanging from the treetops, watching her, silent but present. Something felt different this time. His body, once tense, didn't coil to run. His golden eyes were steady, flickering with something almost recognizable. More aware,More himself.And strangely, so was she.
Once howling through the forest, the wind began to settle, brushing against her skin like a quiet exhale. As if the very world had paused for this moment.
"You don't have to fight this alone."
Her voice was soft, steady, carrying through the silence without hesitation.
"I know you can hear me. I know you're still in there."
Obsidian didn't move—but his breathing slowed, like his body was finally listening.
"Whatever's pulling at you, whatever's hurting you—you can push it back."
Her words reached him effortlessly. His enhanced hearing made sure of it.
"You don't have to run."
A beat.
"Come down."
Another breath.
"Let me help."
Obsidian exhaled, something deep within him unwinding.
For the first time in far too long, his mind wasn't screaming.
Wasn't fighting,Wasn't breaking apart.
The presence of Abby—her words, her unwavering presence—brought him back to something safe.
Slowly, cautiously, he began to descend, movements tentative, testing the ground beneath him, like an untamed creature learning to trust the space around it.
*************************************************************************
Umbrawraith
The air thickened, the weight of the forest shifting.
Obsidian lowered himself, his movements slow, deliberate, almost cautious—
Then—
Something moved behind Absinthe. Not footsteps. Not breath. Not anything that should exist. The darkness pulled itself apart, unraveling into something unnatural, something wrong. And then it took shape.
A liquid-dark silhouette, flickering between forms too distorted to recognize—too many limbs, too many mouths—like the world itself was rejecting its presence.
It had no true shape—only hunger. And it was drawn to her power. Her emotions. Her anger. Absinthe, unaware, stood steady, focused on Obsidian—never seeing the Umbrawraith's slow advance behind her.
But Obsidian did see it.
His golden eyes snapped to the shifting entity, widening—not in fear, but recognition.He knew what it was. Or at least, he knew what it wanted. And it was coming for her.
Obsidian moved before he could think—before Absinthe could react.
His instincts kicked in, raw and undeniable .He launched forward, pushing off the tips of his toes with a force fueled by urgency rather than control—charging straight past Absinthe.
She wasn't prepared.
Not for him.
Not for this.
Her body braced, arms instinctively shielding herself, expecting impact—because Obsidian had always hit first, always collided, always fought.But this time—
He didn't strike her.
He flew past her, body twisting mid-air, his golden eyes locked on something she had yet to see. The world slowed in her shock. She turned—her arms lowering, her body following the trajectory of his movement—until she finally saw it. And her breath hitched.
A monster?
A face?
The shifting darkness unraveled itself, limbs—or tentacles?—or something not meant to exist—lashed toward Obsidian. But he was ready.His claws came forward, slicing through the air—meeting the attack head-on.
********************************************************************
The Umbrawraith struck first.
Its form shifted violently, twisting through the shadows—a liquid void given monstrous shape.
Obsidian met it head-on.
He lunged, claws gleaming, smoke coiling around his arms, ready to strike.
A tendril—not solid, not flesh, just raw abyss given form—lashed forward, cutting through the air like a blade meant to sever bone.
It slammed into him, knocking him back.
Obsidian rolled, his body colliding with the earth, pain splintering through his ribs.
He exhaled sharply, eyes burning.
Fine.
If it wanted a fight, he'd give it one.
Smoke burst from his limbs, shifting—hardening into jagged spikes along his back, his arms, his knuckles.
With a roar, he charged again, claws raking through the writhing void.
The monster twisted, reforming instantly, refusing to break.
Obsidian growled, then adapted.
He swung low, fist colliding with the ground—sending corrupted smoke lancing outward, spikes erupting from the earth itself.
The Umbrawraith shuddered—its mass convulsing as the spikes pierced through its unstable form.
It reeled back, shrieking—not in pain, but fury.
It wanted more.
Obsidian pushed forward, fists coated in hardened blackened scales, his movements driven by pure instinct.
The creature lashed out again—tentacles wrapping around his torso, dragging him down—slamming him into the dirt.
The impact ripped through him, air knocked from his lungs.
And for a moment—he felt it.
The mutation whispering, dragging him under, telling him to let go, let it win, surrender.
Then—
"Obsidian!"
Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp, fierce, undeniable.
Absinthe stepped forward, golden light flickering around her, faint yet piercing against the abyss.
"You're stronger than this! Do not let it take you!"
Her presence shattered something inside him—ripping him from the abyss, forcing him to see beyond the mutation's grip.
For the first time, he saw the world again.
For the first time, he saw Absinthe—her light, her unyielding defiance.
And just as the realization hit him—
The Umbrawraith struck.
Its blackened mass lurched forward, shifting, forming into a jagged, unnatural appendage—and drove straight into Absinthe's chest.
She staggered, breath catching, the impact ripping through her form—a gaping wound spilling silver and gold energy.
Obsidian froze.
"Absinthe!"
She didn't fall.
Not yet.
Her breath was shallow, but her eyes were still locked on him, unwavering, steady even in agony.
That was when something inside him snapped.
The mutation was no longer in control—he was.
The storm inside him twisted, smoke coiling violently, crackling with something new—something ancient, something divine.
Lightning surged through the darkness, arcs of golden energy lacing through the corrupted smoke.
Obsidian raised his claws, his body radiating pure destructive force.
Then—
The lightning transformed.
It took shape, unraveling into a roaring, monstrous hydra, its serpentine heads crackling with divine fury.
The Umbrawraith twisted, sensing something it couldn't adapt to—something final, something absolute.
Obsidian didn't hesitate.
With a deafening roar, he unleashed the hydra, the lightning-form beast diving forward, its heads tearing through the shifting void—consuming the Umbrawraith in one, final, obliterating strike.
The entity screamed—a sound that wasn't made for mortal ears—before it vanished into nothingness, erased from existence.
The battle was over.
But Absinthe was still bleeding.
And Obsidian was running toward her before he even realized it.
*************************************************************************************
The End...
"Abby!"
Obsidian's voice tore through the night, frantic, desperate, unraveling at the edges.
"No—don't do this! Don't leave me! I just got you back!"
His golden eyes, once burning with fury, dimmed into copper, hollow, empty—a shade of what they once were.
Absinthe's breath shuddered, silver and gold leaking from her wound, pooling beneath her like spilled light from a shattered star.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for him, slow, hesitant—every second slipping from her grasp.
Obsidian's blackened claws trembled as he met her touch, the warmth of her hand too fragile, too fleeting, too wrong.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, soft, fragile.
"I'm… so happy… to see you again…"
She smiled, weakly, blue eyes flickering like a fading ember.
Then—a cough.
Blood—silver, gold, burning with life—spilled past her lips, staining her skin, staining his claws.
Obsidian felt something inside him break.
Something deeper than pain.
Something he couldn't survive losing again.
And yet—he held her tighter.
Because she was still here.
And he refused to believe she wouldn't be.
The end...
***********************************************************************************
The voice—thousand echoes, unreachable by any ears but hers—was not a warning, not a whisper, but a truth.
A turning point.
A shift in everything.
"Stars don't die… They are reborn."
Absinthe's fingers tightened, just barely, against Obsidian's trembling claws.
Her blue eyes flickered—once, then again—before the world around them held its breath