Ivor forced his legs to move.
Each step sent a dull tremor upward through his body, the pain behind his eyes no longer contained to a single point but spreading outward in slow, invasive waves. It pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, tightening and loosening without warning. His vision blurred briefly, then sharpened again, the world tilting slightly before settling back into place.
He tightened his grip on the sword and kept walking.
The forest stretched endlessly ahead, tree after tree blurring into one another as he followed the path he had memorized earlier. His breathing grew heavier, not from exertion but from the strain of enduring the pressure building inside his skull. It felt as though something was trying to invade his mind.
His foot caught slightly on an exposed root.
He stopped. Not because he wanted to, but because his body refused to take another step. He lowered himself slowly against the trunk of a nearby tree, his shoulder pressing into the rough bark as he leaned his head back. His eyes closed for only a moment, his body trying to seize whatever brief rest it could.
Then it hit him.
Sensation.
His nose filled suddenly with the smell of damp earth, sharp and overwhelming, far stronger than it had been a moment ago. Beneath it came the scent of rotting leaves, old bark, and stagnant water, all layered on top of each other so densely it became difficult to separate them. He could smell his own blood too, iron-heavy and fresh, mixed with the faint medicinal sharpness of the Frostvine wrapped around his wounds.
His eyes opened instantly. The intensity did not fade. Instead, it sharpened further.
He could smell the difference between the tree he leaned against and the one beside it. One carried the dry scent of aging wood, the other fresher, sap still alive beneath its bark. The soil beneath his hand smelled disturbed in places, compact in others. Even the air itself felt thick with information he had never noticed before.
Then his hearing followed. At first it was only the wind. Then leaves shifting. Then the slow, irregular fall of something small moving across the forest floor.
The sounds layered over one another, too clear, too precise. He could hear branches rubbing together high above him, insects crawling beneath bark, and somewhere far beyond sight, the faint compression of weight against dry leaves.
He remained completely still. His breathing slowed as he forced himself to listen past the overwhelming flood.
Gradually, the chaos separated.
One set of sounds carried rhythm. Heavy. Uneven.
Movement.
Bone against earth. Another set came from farther away. Softer. Controlled.
Humans.
His grip tightened slightly against the bark, his body already reacting before his thoughts finished forming.
He pushed himself back up and continued walking, adjusting his direction to avoid both. He did not question how he had noticed them so clearly.
He only moved.
Several minutes passed before it struck him again. This time the pain did not remain behind his eyes. It spread downward, running along the back of his skull and into his neck. His muscles tightened involuntarily, forcing him to stop once more. His hand rose instinctively, fingers pressing against his temple as he clenched his jaw.
His hearing sharpened again.
Leaves shifting.
Wind moving.
Breathing but not his.
He froze.
Ahead, partially hidden behind the trees, a small group of three boys moved cautiously through the forest. Their weapons were drawn, their posture alert. They were searching.
He stepped backward silently, shifting his weight away from their path. The pain surged sharply for a moment, then receded just enough for him to move again. He circled wide, keeping the trees between himself and them, his breathing controlled despite the strain inside him.
They never saw him. Only when their scent faded and their footsteps disappeared completely did he allow himself to continue forward.
The pressure returned again without warning.
His vision tightened, the edges darkening briefly before clearing. His heart pounded harder as his senses sharpened and dulled in uneven cycles, as if his body could not decide which state to remain in.
It came.
It went.
It came again.
He endured it.
Finally, after what felt far longer than it should have taken, he saw it. The tree where he had left his bag.
It stood slightly apart from the others, its trunk thicker and its lower branches extending outward before rising higher into the canopy. He had chosen it carefully the night before, climbing high enough that nothing on the ground could reach it easily. From there, he had tied the bag securely against one of the upper branches, hidden among leaves and shadow.
The place was closer to what he believed was the outer boundary of the forest. Fewer skeletons wandered here. Fewer humans too. At the time, it had seemed like the safest place he could return to. Now, standing beneath it, the distance between him and the bag felt greater than it should have.
He tilted his head back, his vision briefly blurring as the pressure behind his eyes pulsed again. The branch where the bag rested was still intact. Relief came in small measure. But reaching it would not be easy.
He stepped forward and placed his hand against the trunk. The bark scraped against his palm as he tested his grip. For a moment, he simply stood there, gathering enough strength to begin.
Then he pulled himself upward. He reached the first branch and paused, pressing his chest against it while his breathing steadied.
He climbed higher.
Finally, his hand closed around the strap of the bag.
He pulled it free and held it against himself, his grip tightening slightly as if confirming it was real. Only then did he allow himself to stop and lie down on the thick branch.
He did not remember deciding to rest.
One moment he was holding the branch, the bag pressed tightly against his chest, his body trembling from the effort of climbing. The next, he let himself close his eyes, just for a moment, intending only to steady his breathing.
Darkness came immediately and his body shut down.
*****
When his eyes opened again, the forest had changed.
The light was dimmer now, the harsh brightness of afternoon replaced by the muted gray of evening. Long shadows stretched between the trees, and the air carried a cooler edge. For a brief moment, he did not move, his mind still heavy and slow.
Then he realised the pain was still there. But it had receded. He shifted carefully and sat upright.
The bag rested beside him on the branch, still secured.
He untied it and opened it slowly. He pulled out the water container first and drank in controlled swallows, letting the dryness in his throat ease. Afterward, he took out the food cans he had stolen earlier. He forced himself to eat, even though his appetite was absent. He knew he needed the strength.
Once finished, he placed the remaining crystals back inside the bag, adjusting them so they would not fall or clink against one another. Only then did he take out the scrolls.
There were three of them. He opened the first one. It did not describe a specific skill. It described the system itself.