In sleep, they dreamt the same dream.
They did not know it yet not as they walked across endless halls of white marble, barefoot and dressed in ghostly linen. Their footsteps echoed like whispers, though their lips never moved.
The ceiling was endless.
The air, still.
The world, silent.
Statues lined the corridor. Towering things. Half-human, half-beast. Some wept blood. Others held chains in their hands, pointed downward.
At the very end of the hall stood a throne of bone not ornate, not majestic, but built crudely. As if someone had shaped it in haste. In fear.
And upon it, sat no one.
Yet they both felt watched.
Serai took a step forward in the dream.
So did Caelum.
Their hands found each other.
The moment they touched
The statues all turned.
One by one.
Cracking, groaning, flesh stretching over stone. Their faces had no eyes, only black hollows. Yet still they watched.
And then—
A voice, not heard but felt, spoke.
"Only one shall leave the forest."
And in that instant the hall shattered.
Sound returned.
Screams.
Flames.
Running.
Falling.
They awoke at once gasping.
The willow's shade no longer comforted them.
Morning had come, but it was strange. The light filtered through the trees in heavy amber-red, as if the sun itself bled behind the clouds. The forest smelled off not of damp wood or leaves, but of ash.
Caelum sat up first, his breath ragged.
Serai's eyes snapped open a second later.
They stared at each other.
"You… saw it?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "The white hall. The statues."
"And the throne…" she whispered. "Empty."
He hesitated. "I heard a voice."
She didn't answer, but the look in her eyes said she did too.
Then — a sharp sound.
A tree creaked.
Loud. Like a scream from wood being split.
They stood. Weapons drawn though Caelum's blade was dull and Serai only held a broken branch.
The trees had shifted.
What was once their path was now gone.
Overnight, the woods had changed twisted. The willow they'd rested under now stretched unnaturally, its roots tangled like a noose, its bark cracking with black veins.
Even the birds were silent.
"Something's wrong," Caelum muttered.
"This place… it's breathing," Serai said.
As if to answer, the wind picked up. Not cold but hot, sour, unnatural. It carried whispers they couldn't make out. And in the distance, something moved between the trees. Not fast. Not loud. But deliberate.
"We should move," Caelum said.
She nodded quickly.
They began to walk, side by side no longer apart.
As they did, the forest shifted behind them. Roots curled where they had stepped. Bark twisted to form vague shapes — like faces, almost forming, then breaking apart.
And still, in the farthest edge of hearing…
The voice from the dream:
"Only one shall leave the forest."