The forest no longer stretched like an endless dream — it pulsed with signs of nearing civilization. The smoke they had seen days ago now loomed closer, its tendrils curling above the treeline in steady rhythm. Beneath the canopy, the trail had grown more deliberate — fallen trees bore the brutal bite of iron, felled clean by axes, not age.
Jarn quickened his pace, eyes lit with hope."Finally," he muttered under his breath. "Finally, some damn people."
His boots crushed damp leaves and old pine needles, but his senses were too fixed forward to hear the staggering footsteps behind him grow uneven. The scent of cooked pine and wood smoke filled his nose. He imagined warm bread, even warmer roofs — a bed.
He didn't notice Naru until he heard the thud.
A sick, meaty thump — not the kind made by boots, but by a body surrendering to gravity.
Jarn turned sharply."Naru?"
His friend lay slumped in the dirt, one arm twisted under him, the other shaking slightly. Sweat pooled around his hairline. His breathing sounded wrong — strained, like a bellows trying to suck air through cloth.
"Naru, you alright? Hey — get it together."Jarn knelt beside him, panic rising like bile. "Naru. Are you listening?"
But Naru heard nothing clearly.
The world swam sideways. Jarn's voice echoed unnaturally, stretched and warbled like it was underwater. A high-pitched ringing pulsed inside his skull — it wasn't pain, exactly, but a pressure, a cracking — as if something was trying to push through. His eyes glazed. The trees bent strangely, and the smoke above seemed to shimmer like oil in a puddle.
"I… don't feel so—"
His voice broke off as his body went limp.
Jarn caught him, barely. His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding as he propped Naru's head on his knee. But then… something else happened.
A faint shimmer.
Subtle. Cold. Wrong.
The gem in Naru's pocket glowed, just faintly — as though exhaling something it couldn't contain. And stranger still — it shimmered through cloth, flashing once like lightning beneath his coat before dimming again.
Jarn flinched.His eyes narrowed.
"The hell…"
He reached for Naru's coat — then hesitated. Carefully, he drew a strip of cloth from his side-pouch, wrapped it around his hand, and extracted the gem like a handler with a venomous snake.
Even swaddled, it hummed faintly in his hand.
Jarn didn't speak. His jaw locked, and after a pause, he slipped the gem into a separate pouch on his belt — far from Naru's unconscious body.
"Best if I find a buyer while we're passing through," he muttered, eyes cold with reason. "Before it does worse."
He adjusted Naru over his shoulder, stood up with a grunt, and resumed his pace — slower now, but with every step, the village smoke grew closer.
But something in the woods watched.And somewhere above, the wind had gone still.
The camera pans across the forest canopy, branches stretching wide like claws clutching mist. The smoke that once spiraled like a promise now rises from within—tall huts layered in moss, rooftops of blackened straw, and paths of packed red clay winding between them like veins. Chickens scatter between log houses. A wooden fence circles the outer perimeter, more for ritual than defense.
From the trees, a figure breaks the line of foliage.
Jarn.
Cloak damp with sweat, jaw clenched, back bent just enough to carry the unconscious weight of Naru across his shoulders. His boots are caked in mud, one hand gripping Naru's wrist to steady the sway. His other hand hovers near the pouch where the gem is hidden, just in case.
As they pass the first line of houses, he feels it.
Eyes.
Dozens of them.
Peeking from behind woven curtains. From half-opened doorways. Children stopped mid-run. Mothers held their toddlers a little closer. Some stared with passive curiosity. Others… not so passive. Mistrust, suspicion, and a quiet dread curled behind their eyes.
Jarn noticed—but forged ahead.Of course they stare.To them, they were strangers. Possibly even raiders. But he didn't have the time to explain.
First he had to save Naru.Then, maybe, he'd find someone foolish enough to take the cursed gem off his hands.
The money — he had it. Still stained with the blood of that merchant who once clutched it in death. Cold pockets, colder silence. He would pay. He would barter. He would make sure Naru lived.
As he reached the village center, his path was blocked.
Two young men stepped forward.Tall. Built like stone statues come to life. Bare chests lined with muscle and strange ink — tattoos that seemed to move ever so slightly under the skin, shaped like runes or ritual etchings. Their eyes were not hostile, but not welcoming either.
Beside them stood another man.
Older, yes — but not old in weakness. His frame was strong, skin marked with faded scars and painted wisdom. His beard was trimmed but wild, streaked with silver like lightning in dark clouds. He had the stillness of someone who had seen many things, and crushed most of them.
"Hello, young man," the elder said.His voice was calm, not soft. "I believe you are travelers, and not bandits... we've had more than enough of those miscreants lately."
Jarn straightened a little, adjusting Naru gently on his back before answering."No," he replied, voice humble but steady. "We're travelers. Our carriage got taken down by bandits. We made away—barely. But my friend here... he was injured."
He took a breath.
"We saw the smoke and followed it here, hoping someone could help."
A pause.
The old man's eyes lingered on Jarn's face. Then drifted to the unconscious boy over his shoulders. There was a flicker of something unreadable — doubt, maybe, or something older, buried in memory. His gaze sharpened slightly… then softened.
"…Follow me," the elder said, turning with a decisive pivot.
One of the guards frowned, about to protest.
"Elder, perhaps—"
But the old man met his gaze.
A stare. Cold. Steady. Firm like the crack of a staff in a silent hall.
The guard stopped speaking.His mouth hung open for a second longer… then closed. Like an unspoken code had just been passed.
Jarn said nothing, only nodded once. Then followed the elder's path into the deeper veins of the village, Naru still unconscious, and the gem — warm again — quietly humming in the pouch at his side.
The hut creaked as the wind pressed against its stitched-hide flaps and wooden slats. It was warmer inside — the kind of warmth that comes not from fire but from age. Dried herbs dangled from the beams. Smoke from a small ember pit in the center drifted lazily upwards, carrying with it the scent of sage, bark, and something bitter like burnt moss.
Jarn stood awkwardly by the doorway, unsure if he should speak or sit.
The old man, now without his guards, motioned calmly toward a mat of woven reeds.
"Sit, boy," he said, easing himself onto a carved stool that groaned slightly under his weight. "You've walked far. And your burden looked heavier than most."
Jarn nodded, lowering himself. He placed his bag beside him, careful, deliberate.
"Your friend is in good hands," the elder continued. "He's been taken to the Seer — she knows how to deal with sicknesses of all kinds, even those that drift in from places the trees cannot see."
Jarn let out a quiet breath, part relief, part tension release.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. "For your kindness. We'll pay you back however we can. Just until my friend's better — we don't mean to intrude."
The old man smiled, the lines around his eyes deepening like riverbeds.
"Gratitude is rare these days," he mused. "But it still holds more weight than coin in this village."
There was a pause before the elder leaned forward slightly.
"Now… this gem you mentioned. Tell me of it."
Jarn glanced toward his bag. His fingers tensed.
"It's…" he hesitated, eyes flickering. "We found it. During the chaos. After our cart was raided. We believe it's worth something — maybe even a small fortune."
He looked up, sincere.
"We want to sell it. Be rid of it, really. We're starting over. The port life—well, it lost its meaning after everything we went through."
"I see," the elder said softly.
There was no judgment in his voice. Just… interest.
"May I have a look?"
Jarn didn't answer right away. He slowly reached for the satchel, tugged open the flap, and drew the gem out — wrapped tightly in a fold of cloth. Its surface was muffled, but it still shimmered faintly through the linen like an ember refusing to die.
He started to extend his hand.
But the cloth slipped.
"No—don't—!" Jarn blurted, voice cracking slightly as he instinctively lunged forward.
But the elder's hand was already there.
"Don't worry," the old man chuckled. "I won't dirty it."
He caught the gem gently, and—
Stillness.
The elder's eyes dilated.
His jaw slackened, just slightly. The lines of his face tensed. For a second, it looked like he wasn't breathing.
But we're not shown what he sees. Only the faint flicker of something dark in his pupils. A tremor in his fingertips. Then stillness again.
A beat later, the elder blinked.
And the moment passed.
He handed the gem back, voice once again light, but something behind it… hollow.
"It's truly beautiful," he said. "Even to the touch. And I've handled many stones in my years — but this one feels… alive."
He leaned back.
"Still, we are but a small village. Trade here is humble. A gem like that would turn more heads than we care to."
"That's fine," Jarn said quickly, clutching the gem back in the cloth and returning it to the satchel. "I'll hold onto it. At least until Naru wakes."
The elder nodded slowly.
Then, as the wind whispered through the cracks in the wood, something seemed to shift in the hut. A shadow moved where none had.
From somewhere beyond the walls, faint… faint as a breath...
A hush of wind.
Whispers. Barely audible. Like words lost in a breeze.
The Voice of the Seers stirred in the air — but too quiet to be noticed.Not yet.
A week drifted by like a ghost over still water.
The smoke that once led them here now spiraled lazily above the trees, almost forgotten. Jarn had been shown the path — winding and narrow — to the Seer's hut nestled at the very edge of the village, its wooden frame leaning against the forest like a secret too weary to speak.
The hut stood apart. Not just in distance, but in aura. The air around it always felt colder, even during sunlight. Mushrooms grew around its foundation in rings, and strange feathers dangled from its roof, swaying when no wind moved.
Jarn visited often, dutifully. He never overstayed.
But when he wasn't visiting, he filled the hours with village life.He helped split wood with the younger men. He played games of chase with the local children. He sat by fires at night, letting the village women paint glowing inks across his arms in swirling, tribal patterns. They didn't last more than a few days, but he didn't mind. For a moment, he almost forgot where he came from.
Almost.
But something had changed.
The elder, once so curious and alive, was rarely seen anymore.His guards — those bulked, tattooed sentinels — were missing too, their absence never spoken of aloud.The villagers avoided talking about it. When asked, they'd just smile and change the subject, offering Jarn more drink or food or flattery.
Even the forest felt different. He'd noticed fewer birds. Fewer sounds.
And despite his visits to the Seer's hut, he never saw her.
Until today.
Inside the Hut
The door creaked open. Jarn stepped in, a fresh bowl of stew in his hands.
There, sitting by the fire with her back turned, was the Seer.
A gaunt woman — not elderly, but aged in a way that felt less like time and more like... pressure. Her long hair, thin like thread, was decorated with bone charms and dried roots. Her skin was covered in muted ash-tone inks that formed lines along her neck and shoulders — ancient runes and serpentine scripts that almost shimmered when he blinked.
Naru lay on a mat nearby, unmoving. Sweat had dried into salt on his brow.
The Seer turned her head slightly, revealing one pale eye.
"You bring food," she muttered. "Not questions."
Jarn hesitated. "Didn't mean to intrude. Just thought he might want something when he wakes."
The Seer scoffed, standing slowly.
"Your friend," she said, walking past him toward a basin of herbs, "his affliction isn't physical."
Jarn swallowed. "Oh? You could tell?"
"I don't tell," she replied sharply. "I see."
Jarn scratched his neck, suddenly hot under his collar. "Right. Well... truth is, he's been acting strange ever since he found a certain gem. Ever since then, it's only gotten worse."
There was a pause.
"And you?" the Seer asked.
Jarn looked down. He fidgeted.
"I'm fine."
A long silence. The Seer turned, her face unreadable.
"Fine," she echoed. Then she waved a hand. "The elder summoned you. Best not keep him waiting."
Jarn blinked. "Wait, he did? Now?"
"Yes. Now."
The Seer turned her back again, dismissing him as if he'd never entered.
Jarn stood there for a moment, unsure.
Then a slow grin tugged at his lips — excitement thinly veiled. Finally, he thought. Maybe answers. Maybe a buyer. Or both.
He placed the bowl down by Naru's side, gave one last look, and stepped out of the hut in the woods.
The door shut behind him with a thud, and for a moment the shadows around the hut seemed to breathe.
Jarn walked through the village — but it wasn't the same.
There were no children laughing by the creek.No humming from the women hanging dyed cloth under the sun.No cracking of wood being split by the men at the edge of the trees.
Only silence.
Windows were shut. Doors cracked open just enough to catch a stare. Something had shifted — something unseen, but everywhere.But Jarn, heart still chasing the elder's summons, pressed on.
He arrived at the elder's hut. The once warmly lit place now sat under shadow, quiet like prey hiding from a predator.
Jarn stepped inside.
"Pardon the intrusion," he said, peering through the dim.
A shape in the corner moved.
The elder. Slouched in a carved chair, his face half-lit by an oil lamp. His voice crept out, raspy.
"I loved the beauty of that gem."
Jarn's face brightened. So this was it — the elder was ready to deal.
But before he could speak, the hut door slammed shut behind him.
WHAM.
A blur. Then pain.
Jarn was thrown to the ground, arms pinned. One of the guards — the larger one — had been waiting behind the door.
"What the—?!"
Another lantern was lit. The room brightened just enough to reveal the horror.
The second guard's body lay on the ground beside the elder.Headless.His tattooed chest now stained dark. His blade missing.
The elder leaned forward, slowly. His eyes no longer twinkled with kindness — only hunger.
"Where is it?" he hissed, reaching into Jarn's cloak, fingers brushing for the gem.
"No—don't—!" Jarn struggled, panic spiking.
But strength surged through his fear. He jerked sideways, twisting under the guard's weight and slamming his elbow into the man's face.
The guard grunted.
Jarn kicked the elder hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back.
In one breath, he flung open the door and sprinted into the night.
The village was awake now.
Torches were lit. Faces pressed against windows, unmoving, staring.
Mouths whispering, yet silent.
The world felt tilted, unreal.
Jarn didn't stop running.
He bolted through the dirt paths, past homes he had once felt safe in.Down the path to the woods, toward the only place that still felt untouched — the Seer's hut.
He crashed through the Seer's door, panting.
The hut was alive with smoke and herbs. Candles burned. Shadows danced.
The Seer turned to him calmly.
"Oh, you made it out alive. Good for you."
Naru stood beside her — pale, sweaty, but conscious. He leaned against the wall, legs shaky but upright.
"I managed to wake your friend," she added, picking up a satchel of herbs.
**"But now… run."
"Run? But—how, grandma?"** Jarn asked, breathless and wide-eyed.
The Seer's tone stayed firm.
"No time. Move, boy."
Naru stepped beside Jarn, his hand on his shoulder. Jarn grinned, just for a moment — relief washing over him like a breeze in a storm.
But it passed quickly.
"Wait. Just—how? Why is this happening?"
The Seer paused, her old eyes suddenly young with fire.
"In my long years, the voices of the Seers spoke to me only twice.Once… when I nearly died as a child.And again… the night you arrived."
She walked to them, laying a hand on Jarn's chest.
"It's not your imagination. Whatever you're seeing — it's real. That gem has bound itself to you. And it will not stop until it's fed. It's cursed. It's woken something. This village… is already lost."
A silence.
"Now go."
Jarn nodded, heart pounding. He turned. Naru climbed on his back without a word.
They fled.
The forest was behind them — the clearing just in sight — when they saw it.
Flames.
The Seer's hut was burning. Thick black smoke curled into the sky.
Chants echoed from the village behind. Not in their language. Not in any language Jarn knew.
The two froze.
Then they saw it.
A silhouette against the flame — arms bound, legs tied.The Seer.Hoisted. Hanging.
Her lips moved, muttering something inaudible as embers swirled around her.
And then—
CHHK.
Her head dropped.
A hush.
Jarn turned, tears burning behind his eyes.
And he ran.
[END OF SCENE]