Ren opened his eye—the only one he had left. His back was rested against a tree trunk, head tilted toward the crimson sky above. There were no smiles. No cabins. No fog.
He blinked, dazed. "Where—?"
Fragments of memory resurfaced: the village, the chanting, the smiles carved too wide into human faces. But there was no sign of them now. No movement, nor the sound.
Then—pain.
It struck without warning. His left shoulder socket pulsed violently as his left arm rethreaded, streaming all the way down to his fingertips. Ren clenched his teeth, digging into the roots beneath him to stay grounded. Then his empty eye socket flared. Pain bloomed sharper than before. He felt the tissue knitting behind the emptiness, blood vessels crawling into place, nerves weaving themselves anew—built from nothing, piece by agonizing piece.
And then…it stopped.
Ren slumped forward, panting, sweat rolling down his face. The pain receded as suddenly as it had come, leaving only a deep, hollow exhaustion in its wake. A warm breath brushed against his cheek. Something warm besides bloodshed? Ren turned his head in panic.
The pale horse stood inches away from Ren. Spectral and strange, its form seemed half-real, half-mist. Its nostrils flared gently as it breathed, muzzle sweeping side to side as if scenting him. Each exhale left a faint shimmer in the air. Ren scrambled backward on instinct, palms scraping dirt as he put distance between them. His back struck another tree, and he stared wide-eyed at the creature.Yet, the horse did not follow. It only turned its head, regarding him.
"What are you…?" Ren whispered.
No response.
The lack of aggression unsettled him more than the violence ever could. Everything in this place wanted something from him—his pain, his fear, his submission. Everything hunted here.
Yet, the horse stood still.
"What do you want?" Ren muttered, eyes scanning its pale hide, a faint pulse beneath its surface. "Everything here takes…So what? What do you want from me?"
A memory flared. Blood. Screams. Smiles. And a glowing shape tearing through the fog.
"You…" Ren swallowed. "You were there."
Slowly, Ren pushed himself to his feet and took a step forward.
"You saved me,"
Another step.
"You didn't let me fall. Didn't let me become one of them."
He reached out, and his fingers brushed the horse's side.
It was smooth and cold. Like moonlight given weight.
But beneath it—undeniable.
A heartbeat.
"You're real…" Ren let out a quiet, humorless breath. "You're not a corpse."
The horse neither confirmed nor denied it. But the silence between them now felt different.
"I'm not the only one here who thinks?" Ren murmured. "Who feels anything?"
The thought should have comforted him. But it didn't.
"If you can hear me. Then…help me…"
The memory of that woman's plea echoed through his mind.
'Help me…'
Ren's gaze dropped to the ground, to the twisting roots beneath the ashen soil.
"That voice…She's still out there," He whispered. "Alone."
His hand curled into the horse's mane—wisps sliding through.
"And that thing—it has her by now...Probably hearing the same lies I did. Whispering to her. Sinking in while she's alone, twisting her into something she's not…"
Ren lifted his gaze to the steed, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
"I can't let that happen," He said quietly. "I promised…"
The horse tilted its head, a small, deliberate motion—almost thoughtful.
As if it understood and agreed with him.
"I don't know why you saved me," Ren went on. "I don't even know if I can trust you…But if you can help me reach her…don't disappear on me. Not yet."
Without hesitation, the horse turned sideways—offering its back.
Ren was thrown off by how content the steed was, but hauled himself up nonetheless.
And then—it moved. The ride was silent. Ren leaned forward, resting his hands on the steed's nape. Each step it took was smooth, soundless—unnaturally so. No snap of branches, nor rustle of leaves. The forest seemed to part around them.
There were no paths. No landmarks. No sense of direction. Ren didn't guide it.
Yet, the horse moved with certainty, as though it had already known where to go.
He couldn't remember when he'd first heard the voice—only that it had lodged itself somewhere deep in his mind. And now, the horse carried him forward as if following that same memory.
His thoughts drifted inward, brushing against a shame he'd tried to bury.
'Back then…I didn't stop. I didn't even look back. I told myself I was too weak. That I was too broken. Maybe I was. But really…I was just scared. Scared of what would happen if I stayed. But enough of thinking like that. I'm not running anymore."
Then—
"Please…"
Ren's eyes widened.
The voice cut through the silence—clear, trembling, unmistakable.
"End my suffering…Please…someone…"
In that instant, Ren slid off the steed before it even slowed, hitting the ground, and scrambling upright. Branches tore at his cloak as he ran, roots clawing at his boots. The voice grew clearer.
"Someone…"
Ren pushed on, each step burned with guilt.
"I'm coming!" He shouted, breath tearing from his lungs. "Hang on! Please—don't let go!"
The trees peeled back at once, like curtains drawn aside. A clearing. The forest had bent inward, trunks arching like grasping fingers, strangling the sky above. At its center stood a colossal tree, ancient and warped, its branches jutting in every direction like broken limbs.
And from those twisted branches—
A single figure hung.
Ren slowed, dread creeping up his spine as he stepped closer.
Because he recognized the voice.