The forest was silent except for the occasional crack of a branch or rustle of leaves. Virel's small body ached in every joint, bruises pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat. His left leg throbbed sharply, making every step precarious. His right arm hung slightly stiff at his side from slamming against a tree trunk during the fall. Blood streaked down from shallow cuts on his face and arms, and his clothes were torn and dirt-streaked.
He leaned heavily against a thick oak, taking deep, shaky breaths. The pain was immense, but even more pressing was the need to figure out where he was. The forest stretched in all directions like an endless green sea, dense and unwelcoming. The sky barely peeked through the canopy, leaving the world in muted green shadows that made movement both safer from predators and disorienting.
Virel tested his legs, moving cautiously forward. Each step was measured, avoiding jagged roots and loose stones. Falling once more could easily snap his already battered ribs, and he couldn't afford that. His small wooden sword, cracked from the fall, offered no support beyond a makeshift cane. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself onward.
As he moved, memories of Kael, his past life, surfaced again. He remembered running through similar terrain not this forest, but battlefields torn apart by fire and blood. Kael had learned to read the land, predict movements, and use the environment to survive. Those instincts, honed over years of commanding troops and navigating hostile territories, were still alive within him. They guided Virel now. He could move quietly, step lightly, and choose a path that minimized danger while conserving strength.
Branches scraped his face and arms as he wove through the undergrowth. He stumbled twice, landing hard on his side both times, but each time he reminded himself to breathe, steadying his mind as Kael had trained himself during long nights before battles. Pain seared through him, but the faint spark of determination in his chest pushed him onward.
Hours seemed to pass. Virel kept to the shadows, using what little he knew about tracking in the wilderness. He followed animal trails, avoided waterlogged areas, and stayed clear of dense thickets that could hide predators. Every noise set him on edge: a snapping twig, a rustle in the leaves, even the distant call of a bird. Each sound could signal dangeror opportunity but he had no way of knowing which.
By midday, hunger gnawed at his belly. He had survived on adrenaline so far, but the pain in his stomach reminded him that his body still needed fuel. He scavenged cautiously, breaking off some wild berries after remembering which were safe from old survival lessons Kael had read about. They were bitter and not entirely filling, but they would keep him going for now.
Virel's leg throbbed fiercely with each step. The forest floor rose and fell like a rolling wave, roots forming natural barriers that required careful climbing. He used his arms to balance, pressing them against trees or rocks, and sometimes crawling over obstacles that were too steep for his weakened body to traverse upright. The pain was constant, but he gritted his teeth and forced his muscles to cooperate.
As the afternoon sun shifted, shadows lengthened. He found a small clearing and collapsed against a fallen tree. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. Kael's memories whispered guidance rest, conserve strength, observe your surroundings. Virel allowed himself a moment to close his eyes, letting the forest sounds wash over him. Every rustle and chirp carried information: where predators might hide, where the ground was solid, which paths might lead upward.
While he rested, other flashes of Kael's life surfaced. He remembered standing on a battlefield cliff, surveying a valley filled with enemies. Kael had made quick calculations, predicting the enemy's next move and adapting instantly. Virel drew on that clarity, thinking about how he could survive this new, silent battlefield. The forest, though unfamiliar, could be read like Kael had read battle maps. Patterns emerged: paths with fewer obstacles, areas that might provide shelter, or spots to gather water.
Night approached. The air cooled sharply, and Virel shivered in his tattered clothes. He found a hollowed-out tree trunk and crawled inside, curling up as best he could to conserve warmth. His leg ached, his ribs protested each shallow breath, but he allowed himself to close his eyes. Dreams were fleeting, interrupted by the pain and the unfamiliar noises of the forest. Yet even in the dark, Kael's memories guided him. He imagined himself in formation, assessing the positions of allies and enemies, turning every sound and shadow into strategic information.
Hours or maybe it was a full day, he couldn't tell passed in this manner. Virel moved, rested, observed, and survived in cycles dictated by instinct and experience. He learned quickly which roots could support his weight, which stones were loose, and which areas were too exposed. Each small success bolstered his confidence, even as his body screamed in protest.
By dawn, his movements had grown slightly steadier. He had managed to find a slow-moving stream, using it to wash some of the dirt and blood from his arms and face. His clothes remained torn, but the simple act of cleansing offered a small sense of control. Virel traced the stream's edge, reasoning that water sources often led to areas with wildlife and possibly safer routes through the forest.
As he paused to drink from the cool water, another memory of Kael surfaced vividly. Kael had once been forced to spend a week alone behind enemy lines, wounded and outnumbered. He had survived by staying quiet, observing constantly, and moving only when necessary. Virel realized that, despite his body being a child's, the mindset of a seasoned warrior was still his. Every step, every breath, every movement could be deliberate, controlled, and intelligent.
The forest around him remained dense, filled with unseen dangers and uncertainty. Yet beneath the pain, a quiet resolve strengthened. He had survived impossible falls, been battered and bloodied, and had been thrust into an unknown world. But he was alive. He could adapt. He could endure. And with Kael's memories guiding him, he had the knowledge and instincts to do so.
Slowly, Virel got to his feet, bracing against a mossy tree trunk for support. His limbs were stiff, his body protesting, but he didn't collapse. He inhaled deeply, the forest air sharp and clean in his lungs. He had no idea where he would go, what dangers awaited, or how long survival would demand from him. But he would move forward.
Virel took a cautious step, then another. Each one was a small victory. Each one reminded him that he was alive, that he had endured, and that he still carried Kael within him.
And as the forest stretched endlessly before him, Virel Ludin's eyes hardened. His journey had only just begun.