The first breath outside wasnt as refreshing as it should have been. No, it was very much suffocating. I was half expecting alarms to go off, for guards to sprint out from the non existing door and for Ezekiel to explain to me how he knew about my water ability.
But there were no Alarms, no guards and no Ezekiel. I really don't get it. Why go through all that trouble just to stay behind? We were literally at the door. And what did he do to make those lazy guards start acting up anyway
My confusion was dipped in cold air and stitched together with dread. I stood infront of the Asylum's white building, with barely any windows. It seemed so small from the outside, i didn't understand how it could create these complex hallways.
I rubbed my face like that would somehow press clarity into my skull. It didn't. Ezekiel gave me a headache. The last image of him burned behind my eyelids, Ezekiel standing by the door, arms slack at his sides, face shadowed but not blank.
No. It wasn't blank. It was guilt. That man, a very staff member of the Asylum that seemed to pry my mind open, looked like he had finally done something he didn't want to. Like he was sorry. If this was a trap, it was a quiet one. The kind you don't notice until the floor gives out beneath you.
"Right," I muttered to myself, and took a few steps away from the door to start looking around. There was no Hannah in sight, even though she only literally left a few minutes prior.
I wasn't sure what I expected the outside of the asylum to look like. A gravel path? A gate? Civilization, maybe? Something. Anything. But instead i was greeted by a whole forest, seemingly surrounding the Asylum completely.
The Asylum must've paid their staff a lot of Veynel. Otherwise i couldn't explain to myself why they would go through this every damn day to spend their days with psychos.
the trees loomed, silent and endless, like they'd been waiting. As if the asylum hadn't been a prison, but the only patch of cleared land in a world that had been consumed. I took a cautious step forward and the branches above rustled, whispering things I didn't like.
Great.
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I kicked a loose stone. It skittered uselessly and vanished into the underbrush. "This is the worst breakout ever," I muttered, scanning the surroundings again.
A dramatic, torturing psych ward wasn't enough. Now I was stuck in the middle of a sentient forest that probably hated me on principle. I turned back, expecting to see the building still standing behind me, cold, white, haunted. But it was already fading into the distance like a dream I wasn't sure had ever happened. Just a smear of shadow between trees.
"I must've missed the part where this escape plan included the 'walk through hells backyard' segment," I said, to no one in particular.
It wasn't like I had a map. Or a plan. Or even functioning fire powers at this point. And what the hell was i even supposed to do with my water powers in this place? Even if i were to use up all of my bottles, i'd just do the rains work.
My fingertips twitched instinctively. Nothing. Just a dull warmth, like the idea of a match being struck in a rainstorm. No flame. No spark.
Figures.
Apparently surviving psychological warfare doesn't qualify you for working elemental magic.I dont know what Doctor Willensburg did to supress it but I needed a trigger, something real. Something raw. Something that cut deeper than fear.
But not yet. The trees pressed closer, thick trunks twisted at impossible angles. The ground beneath me felt like it was breathing, soft in a way that screamed unnatural. Roots rose like ribs. Moss swallowed stone. Everything here had the look of something ancient and mildly pissed off.
I squinted at a nearby tree. Dark bark. Curved like a question mark. Hadn't I seen that one already?
I walked. Another tree. Same bend. Same knotted scar near the base.
I spun on my heel. Walked another direction. And there it was again.
"…Okay, nope," I said. "That's not creepy at all." Either the forest was shifting around me or I was walking in circles. Both options were equally disturbing. And, given my luck, equally likely.
The logical part of my brain, the one that hadn't completely disintegrated during my time in the asylum, whispered that forests didn't move. Trees didn't follow you.
But the other part? The one that dreamed of suns that didn't exist and skies that sang? That part wasn't so sure. I mean if even a building can change their hallways, without being obvious with it, How could a forest not be?
"You were supposed to come with me," I said out loud, to the air. To the trees. Maybe to Ezekiel.
Silence. The one who orchestrated my escape like it was some grand performance. And then… let me leave. Alone. No final speech. No fight. Just that look.
Guilt.
The guilt in his eyes came back to me. Not regret. Not fear.
Guilt.
As if this had always been the plan, get me just lucid enough to run, just close enough to the truth that it would haunt me through every root and branch I stumbled past.
That's the thing with guilt, it's a better trail than blood. And Ezekiel's was fresh.
I kept walking, branches scraping my arms, the air getting heavier with every step. There were no birds. No wind. Just that same whispering, soft, repetitive. A name I didn't know. Or maybe one I used to.
Time twisted strangely in this forest. Minutes felt like hours. My breath came shorter. My head started to ache. i felt exhausted. I thought about turning back.
But back to what? A building full of lies? A man with too many answers and too few truths?
No. Forward, then. Into the woods. Into the dark. Into the unknown. The roots snagged at my slippers like hands. The air thinned. And still, that tree followed. Or maybe I followed it.
And even if I didn't know what I was walking toward, I knew what I was leaving behind. The lie of comfort. The illusion of care. The asylum, and Ezekiel. I wasn't healed. I wasn't ready. But I was remembering. And maybe that was worse.