Kassian sat on the massive root of a withering tree, deep in thought. His fingers absently traced the bark beneath him as he mentally mapped out his next move. This forest wasn't letting him go - but that didn't mean he had to remain helpless.
With a quiet breath, he stood up and tilted his head back to gaze at the towering tree behind him - the one whose thick root had served as his resting place.
Its canopy was crowned with massive, round-shaped leaves unlike anything he had ever seen. He had once tried to tear one free with all his might, only to fail. Despite their flexibility, they were absurdly durable - like organic fabric reinforced with metal threads.
But they sparked an idea.
He could use them.
Climbing now was easier. His ankle, once swollen and bruised, no longer ached. It responded well to pressure, as though nothing had ever been wrong. The strange healing still lingered in his thoughts, but for now, he pushed it aside.
Reaching the lower branches, he tugged at the living leaves again - only to be met with the same resistance. Unyielding. They refused to part from their tree.
He descended, instead gathering the dried ones that littered the ground nearby. They were curled and brown, but still incredibly strong. Try as he might, he couldn't tear them by hand. Everything in this world seemed built to endure - whether it wanted to or not. Only the rot caused permanent damage to these resilient plants.
Using the natural curve of the dried leaves, Kassian began rolling them into a rough cone shape. With a bit of trial and error, he tied them together using brittle vines he had pulled from the earth earlier. The vines cracked in places, but held. The result wasn't elegant, but it worked - a crude pouch to carry whatever essentials he might need for the road ahead.
In the quiet of the clearing, a soft glow pulsed from nearby. A patch of mushrooms - fat, pale, with thin stems and wide heads - clustered at the base of another tree.
He crouched beside them. His hand hovered, then touched the dagger at his waist.
Cold.
Safe.
He exhaled and began harvesting them carefully, stacking them inside the cone-shaped pouch.
For now, it was enough.
And in this cursed land, enough was everything.
Kassian stared at the pouch in his hands. It wasn't much - just a cone of dried leaves and brittle vines - but it held food, and that was enough.
He considered making another. Maybe two. If he gathered more of those mushrooms now, he wouldn't have to worry about food for a day or two. But then he looked toward the trees - the tall, writhing silhouettes in the distance - and thought better of it.
'Travel light.'
That was one of the rules from the survival documentaries he used to watch when the city's network wasn't down. If you're unsure of the terrain or what's stalking you, pack light. Drop everything and run if needed. You can always gather more. You can't grow a new leg.
He sighed.
'Guess I did learn something after all,' he muttered.
He picked up more of the brittle vines and began securing his makeshift pouch with a few knots - tight loops and hitches he'd memorized from hours of watching old survivalist series. It didn't look pretty, but it was firm enough. With a final tug, he tied the cord around his waist, letting the pouch rest snug against his hip.
It swung lightly as he tested it with a step.
Not bad.
One last look at the clearing. One last breath of the oddly clean air.
And then, without another word, Kassian turned and walked toward the unknown.
Whatever was waiting beyond these parts of the corrupted forest, he would face it - light on his feet, and just enough food to make the next mistake a survivable one.
The journey was hard.
The deeper Kassian ventured, the more the forest seemed to reject him - its gnarled roots rising like walls, its giant trees standing shoulder to shoulder like silent wardens. The oversized roots coiled and knotted into a living maze, some thick as ancient stone columns, others twisting like serpents beneath the soil. Traversing them was an ordeal. He had to leap from one to the next, carefully weaving through the spaces in between. A single misstep would see him slip into a pit of shadow and tangled wood, potentially trapped with no way out.
His agility carried him through - barely. The strength in his recovering leg had returned, but the pain still lingered in the memory. He moved with caution. Every landing was a test. Every jump, a gamble.
When he felt disoriented - and that happened often - he would climb, forcing his way up through the dense layers of bark and foliage to find his bearings. The fog overhead hadn't lifted, but from high above, he could catch glimpses of distant light piercing the veil, the same beacon that pulled him forward each day.
It was during one of these climbs that he came too close to something… else.
The branch creaked beneath his weight as he hoisted himself up for a better vantage, eyes sweeping across the endless canopy. Then he felt it - movement. He turned.
It stood there.
A creature, crouched on a nearby limb no more than twenty paces away. Yellow fur covered its muscular body, its limbs coiled with taut strength. A single, jagged streak of blood-red ran down its chest and face, like a wound or a mark. Just like the eyeless creatures in the ruins. It had no visible eyes, yet its head turned toward him with a precision that betrayed awareness.
Kassian's heart slammed in his chest. His hand hovered near the dagger at his waist, not that it would help him in anyway, but he knew - he wouldn't survive a fight with that thing.
The creature blinked - or something like it. Then, without a sound, it leapt backward into the mist and vanished into the treetops.
Gone.
Kassian stayed frozen for a moment, heart thudding wildly, unsure if it would return. But the forest fell still again.
He exhaled slowly.
It had been afraid.
Not of him specifically - but of the unknown. It had bolted not out of weakness, but wariness. That, in itself, was telling.
Whatever dwelled in this forest… there were predators worse than it.
And Kassian had no desire to meet them.
Kassian pushed on.
The forest changed as he moved deeper - subtly at first, then unmistakably. The air thickened. The sounds grew quieter, yet more pronounced - isolated noises that felt too sharp, too intentional. Every rustle. Every twitch of a leaf. They all carried weight.
He started to notice movement where there shouldn't be any.
Between the roots, down in the crevices he carefully avoided, strange insect-like creatures slithered. Not the kind that scurried away when disturbed - these things crawled with deliberate patience, like they owned the ground. Some had translucent limbs, others bore carapaces that shimmered with oily hues. Eyes - or what resembled them - watched from the dark beneath the forest floor.
Kassian had never feared bugs. But this? This was different.
These things weren't natural.
He froze at the edge of a root cluster, staring down into a shallow gully below. A thick-bodied insect dragged something unidentifiable into a hole - its many legs clicking against bark and bone. Beside it, another creature twitched, almost sensing his presence.
'Nope.'
Kassian climbed up higher into the canopy and refused to come down.
From there, nestled in the branches, he watched. He didn't move. Didn't even breathe too loudly.
This part of the forest was worse.
Not because it was louder - but because everything that lived here moved with intent. Coordination. As if the trees, the roots, the crawling things beneath them - were all part of something larger.
And something told him he wasn't welcome.
He had always imagined the wild as vibrant and alive. A place of harmony. Survival, sure - but balance too. That's what the old documentaries had shown. Forests teeming with deer, birds, bright butterflies…
But this?
This wasn't the life he'd yearned to see.
It was something else. Something alien.
A grotesque parody of nature.
He wrapped his arms around the thick branch and shivered - though not from cold. The sounds of clicking limbs and shifting bark rose faintly below, and Kassian didn't move a muscle.
This place…
It was alive in all the wrong ways.
And it was watching.
Kassian decided to have a snack while resting on the thick branch. With practiced motion, he untied the vine securing his makeshift pouch and reached inside. He grabbed one of the mushrooms - tough-skinned, pale brown, a little spongy - and popped it into his mouth. It wasn't appetizing. Never was. But it was juicy.
The strange fungus had kept him alive for days. Despite the bitter flavor, it kept him hydrated. It dulled the edge of his hunger. That alone made it worth its weight in gold.
He used a curled, dried leaf to press down the rest of the contents, resealing the pouch with another vine, and leaned back against the trunk.
His gaze drifted upward.
Something nudged at his instincts.
With effort, Kassian climbed higher, navigating the gnarled lattice of the upper branches. They creaked under his weight but held. Eventually, he broke through the dense canopy and reached the treetop.
A faint glow shimmered in the far distance.
It was the same light he had glimpsed before - faint, warm, unlike the corrupted gloom that choked this forest. It pulsed softly along the horizon, like a beacon calling him home. And maybe… it was.
But it wasn't the light that made his stomach twist.
It was what lay below.
From up here, he could see it clearly.
The roots of the trees - dozens, maybe hundreds of them - formed a vast, coiled web across the forest floor. And nestled within those roots… were the insect creatures. Countless. Their carapaces glimmered faintly in the dull light, twitching and adjusting, breathing in eerie synchronization. They looked peaceful now, half-dormant.
But something told him that wouldn't last.
A realization struck him like a cold slap.
They were still in the day.
What if these creatures didn't hunt during the sunlight - or whatever passed for it here?
What if they were nocturnal?
Kassian stared in silence. His grip on the branch tightened.
They had the limbs to climb. The coordination. And the numbers.
He didn't want to be here when the sun - or its imitation - vanished from the sky.
He needed to move. Now.
'Less lovely place,' he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the faint glow on the horizon. 'I'll take that over this nest.'
He tightened the pouch at his waist, checked that the wooden dagger was still secure, and began to descend. Each movement was cautious. Deliberate. Every sound in the forest suddenly felt louder. Closer.
Time was running out.
And the forest had a rhythm of its own.
"On a second thought," Kassian muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. He craned his neck upward, gauging the spacing between the neighboring trees, then began climbing once more - this time with purpose.
Branch to branch.
Step by careful step.
It was risky. But if those things below truly did come out at night, he needed height. Distance. Safety. Moving along the treetops might slow him down and drain more energy, but it kept him above the swarm. Kept him alive.
For a while, it worked.
The branches were thick, interwoven, like the arms of slumbering giants. Kassian leapt lightly from one to another, his balance surprisingly nimble for someone who had spent most of his life confined to steel walls and artificial lights. The days he spent adapting to the terrain were beginning to show in his movement. His rhythm.
But then - snap.
The branch gave way.
He hadn't seen the rot. A large crack split through the wood as his weight hit it, and one of his feet plunged downward. Panic surged.
He twisted instinctively, grabbing the remaining healthy part of the branch just before the rest collapsed. Bark scraped his palms. The wind whooshed past his ears.
Then - pain.
Something below whipped up around his leg - slimy, sinewy, coiling tight. It sank its teeth into his calf.
Kassian bit down a scream, his fingers tightening as he thrashed. A single glance revealed glinting fangs and pulsing flesh - some sort of vine-like creature, barbed and alive.
With a desperate kick, he slammed his free leg into the writhing mass.
Once. Twice.
It hissed - or maybe screamed - and released him.
Kassian hauled himself up with a guttural cry, slamming his chest against the branch. He rolled over, panting, the warmth of blood trickling down his leg. His breath trembled, eyes wide as he stared down at the shadowed undergrowth.
The forest watched him.
But nothing climbed up after him.
Not yet.
He grimaced, reaching for a strip of vine and tightening it around the bite wound. The wooden dagger pulsed faintly at his hip, as if acknowledging the danger - and his survival.
'Crap,' he hissed. 'Next time, I fall… that's it.'
And yet, even now, he was more determined than ever.
Because despite the pain. Despite the fear.
He was still alive.
And the light was still out there.
Calling.
---
As the dim light faded, Kassian diligently crossed the branches of the trees. He was more careful now, observing the branches before leaping.
After a while, as darkness came, he finally found a clearing where the trees parted wider, and no giant roots hugging each other.
With a sigh of relief, he climbed down and headed to the clearing, finally putting behind the interlocking trees and its dangerous looking inhabitants.
The clearing welcomed him like a breath of air after drowning.
Kassian took a moment to appreciate it - no twisted roots reaching from the ground, no twitching vines brushing against his legs, no looming shapes above. Just open space. Unfamiliar stars blinked overhead through the strange fog that loomed above and into the clouded sky. The ground, though patchy and dry, seemed far less corrupted than what he had crossed.
His already ragged shoes crunched over brittle leaves and loose twigs as he made his way to the center, his eyes scanning every shadow. The dagger remained close to his palm, its silent warmth a comfort. It hadn't warned him, not here.
That was a good sign.
He set down his leaf-wrapped purse beside a large flat rock, then crouched low and began gathering scattered debris - dry branches, frayed twigs, anything brittle enough to burn. The area was strangely rich in materials, as though even the forest itself didn't dare reclaim this patch of land.
It felt… avoided.
Kassian didn't care.
He was tired of running. Tired of climbing.
He stacked the wood into a crude pile, placed the driest leaves at its center like he had read in some old forum thread years ago - "Start small, feed it slow."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flint lighter.
Scuffed. Rusted. But still intact.
"This better scare those things," he muttered, thumbing the wheel.
It sparked on the third try.
The tiny flame danced briefly on the dried leaves, then caught. Smoke curled upward in lazy swirls, and within seconds, the fire crackled into life. The flames hissed as they fed, licking hungrily at the wood, casting a circle of light and warmth.
Kassian sat back slowly, shoulders slumping with a long exhale.
He had done it.
A real fire.
The first comfort he had felt since leaving the Waygate.
The shadows danced at the edge of the firelight, shifting unnaturally - but they did not cross into the glow. Whatever things crept through the woods, they feared the flame.
He hoped.
He tucked the dagger beside him, where its hilt touched his thigh, and watched the fire grow, feeding it carefully, listening to the soft crackle.
For now, he was safe.
And in this brief silence, he allowed himself something he hadn't done in days.
Staying still while his mind wandered.