The sun had begun its slow descent by the time Fenix noticed the light changing.
What had once filtered through the leaves in gentle ribbons of gold now stretched longer and thinner, staining the forest floor in shades of amber and bruised orange. Shadows deepened between the trees, gathering in hollows and beneath roots, pooling like ink spilled carelessly across parchment.
Fenix frowned and slowed his steps, fingers tightening around the map.
They had been walking for hours, far longer than he had expected, and something about the path felt wrong. Not treacherous, not obstructed, but misaligned, as though the forest itself subtly bent their direction without ever forcing it.
He stopped.
Aeris took three more steps before realizing he was alone, then turned. His black hair shifted softly against his shoulders. His wings were hidden once more beneath his robes, though Fenix could not shake the feeling that they were never truly gone.
Fenix glanced between the map and the trees ahead, his brow furrowing deeper. "Pardon me," he said at last, carefully polite despite the tension in his chest, "but we seem to have taken a wrong turn."
Aeris hummed thoughtfully, his eyes flicking briefly to the map, but only briefly. Then, without answering, he turned away and walked toward a massive tree just off the path.
It was ancient. Its trunk was wide enough that three men might barely encircle it, its bark split and hollowed with age. At its center yawned a dark opening, large enough to shelter a person comfortably.
Aeris brushed aside fallen leaves and debris with practiced ease, then reached into his robe and withdrew a long strip of dark cloth. He laid it neatly within the hollow, smoothing it flat.
"You can rest here," he said simply. "I will stand watch."
Fenix blinked.
Once. Twice.
"I just said we are not on the correct route," he replied.
Aeris tilted his head, his expression genuinely curious. "Yes?"
"I am not hard of hearing, you know," Aeris continued mildly, leaning forward just enough to peer into Fenix's face. "Although, are you?"
Indignation flared hot and sudden. "Well of course not."
"Then what is the problem?" Aeris asked.
Fenix let out a sharp breath, frustration winning out. He unfolded the map and jabbed a finger toward the marked trail. "That is the route Solis indicated. It should take no more than a day and a half to reach the settlement." Then he pointed toward the direction they had been walking. "And this is where you have led us. At this rate it will take nearly twice as long."
"And?" Aeris asked again, his brows knitting slightly, as though the concern itself puzzled him.
Fenix stared at him, his mouth opening and then closing.
The sky dimmed further, the last remnants of daylight slipping away like breath from a dying flame.
This was getting nowhere.
With a tired sigh, Fenix climbed into the hollow without another word. The bark was cool against his palms as he shifted inside, arranging himself awkwardly atop the cloth. It smelled faintly of earth and smoke, old but not unpleasant.
He lay back and stared out at the sky through the jagged opening, watching as the last sliver of sun vanished behind the treetops.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, quietly and almost reluctantly, Fenix broke the silence.
"How did you and Cassius meet?"
The words lingered between them.
No response came.
Fenix turned slightly, peering into the gathering shadows beyond the tree, wondering if Aeris had wandered too far to hear him.
Then, softly, from somewhere above, a voice answered.
"I helped him escape."
Fenix stilled.
Escape.
From where?
The question burned on his tongue, but before he could voice it, a low, traitorous rumble rose from his stomach.
Heat rushed to his face.
Muttering under his breath, he pushed himself upright and rummaged through his satchel, pulling free a piece of dry bread. He bit into it with little enthusiasm, chewing slowly as the crumbs stuck to his tongue.
It tasted like exile.
"You should sleep," Aeris's voice called from the branches overhead. "I need to check on something."
Before Fenix could respond, the soft sound of footsteps, too light to belong to a human, faded into the distance.
Once again, he was alone.
The forest had changed.
As darkness fully settled, the silence grew heavier and thicker, no longer merely empty, but expectant. The air pressed in from all sides, cool and damp, carrying a scent that was no longer just rain soaked earth.
There was something beneath it now.
Something old.
Fenix finished the bread and wiped his hands against his trousers. Weariness tugged at his limbs, but his thoughts refused to settle. His gaze drifted to the ashes curled around his wrist.
They were restless.
The gray black substance pulsed faintly, tightening and loosening in slow, uneven intervals, like a living thing breathing beneath his skin. He frowned and brushed his fingers over it, trying unsuccessfully to still it.
"Stop it," he murmured.
The forest answered with a distant creak.
Fenix froze.
The sound came again, not from any one direction, but everywhere at once. Wood groaning. Roots shifting. The subtle complaint of trees leaning closer together.
His breath quickened.
You are imagining things, he told himself.
Still, he turned onto his side, curling slightly inward. Exhaustion finally began to drag him down, heavy and unavoidable. His eyelids fluttered.
Sleep claimed him not gently, but all at once.
He dreamed of fire.
Not the warmth of a hearth, nor the controlled blaze of a forge, but something wild and ravenous, consuming everything in its path. He stood surrounded by ash that fell like snow, choking the sky.
From within it, shapes moved.
Too many limbs. Too many eyes.
They whispered his name.
Fenix.
He tried to run, but the ground beneath him cracked, splitting open to reveal darkness without end. Hands, burned and skeletal, clawed upward, grasping at his ankles, his wrists, his throat.
The ashes on his arm burned.
He screamed.
And woke.
Fenix bolted upright, gasping for air.
The forest was no longer silent.
Something moved beyond the trees.
Not footsteps.
Not wind.
A wet, dragging sound, slow and deliberate.
The ashes around his wrist tightened violently, searing pain lancing up his arm as they darkened to near black.
From somewhere in the darkness, something laughed.
Low.
Broken.
Hungry.
And very close.
Fenix's heart pounded as the shadows stretched inward, swallowing the hollow of the tree inch by inch.
Whatever Aeris had gone to check on, it was already too late.