The forest knew he was here.
And it remembered him.
Kaelion lay there for another breathless moment, staring up at the twisted canopy above. Leaves the color of dried blood rustled softly without wind. Moss pulsed faintly beneath him like a living lung.
He was certain of two things.
One: he had survived the fall.
Two: something nearby wished he hadn't.
Slowly, he sat up.
His arms ached. His ribs throbbed. His left palm was scraped raw, and his once-pristine tunic—already battered before the fall—was torn straight across the chest.
"Still alive?" came Umbrix's voice, smooth as oil and twice as thick with sarcasm.
"Barely," Kaelion muttered, brushing soil from his forearms. "I think I lost a decade of lifespan."
"You had decades?"
Kaelion rolled his eyes. "You're very comforting in times of crisis."
"It's part of my charm."
He rose to his feet slowly, letting the pain settle. The Spiritwild stretched out around him—endless trees, shadow-wrapped roots, and thick fog curling around his ankles. It was like stepping into a painting gone sour.
The trees were wrong. They bent toward him as if curious. Or hungry.
Moss squelched underfoot. Strange mushrooms flickered dimly in the gloom. Branches above curled in on themselves like twisted antlers.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Kaelion whispered, "Okay. Step one: don't die. Step two: avoid being eaten by anything that breathes fog."
"Step three," Umbrix added, "stop talking to yourself before something hears you."
Too late.
There was movement. A low rustle just beyond the mist.
Kaelion froze.
It wasn't a breeze. It wasn't small. Whatever it was, it moved like it had weight—and purpose.
He squinted into the haze. Something was shifting through it. Stalking.
Then it stepped into view.
Long, low body. Skin stretched too tight over visible ribs. Four limbs, each joint bending the wrong way. Its face split open like a flower made of bone, revealing rows of teeth and four glowing eyes. The light in them was cold and predatory.
"Umbrix?"
"Glarehound."
"Friendly?"
"It feeds on fear and blood. So no."
Kaelion reached for his dagger instinctively. It was laughably small compared to the beast.
The Glarehound snarled, jaw unhinging wider than should be possible.
"Okay, okay," Kaelion muttered. "Let's think. Let's use strategy. Let's—"
It lunged.
Kaelion dove left, narrowly avoiding the creature's snapping maw. He rolled through thick moss, came up panting, dagger ready.
"Permission to maim?" Umbrix asked, already coiling in anticipation.
"Granted. Please maim a lot."
Umbrix stirred.
Kaelion's shadow twisted unnaturally beneath him, stretching, writhing. From it, a single tendril lashed upward like a whip, slamming into the Glarehound's side. The creature yelped, stumbled—but it wasn't done.
It whirled around and bit the tendril clean in half.
Kaelion's stomach dropped. Pain surged across his spine.
"Did it just bite my shadow?!"
*"It bit me," Umbrix snarled. "Now it dies."
Kaelion staggered backward. More tendrils erupted from the ground—jagged, serpentine, and glowing faintly violet. The air thickened. The forest grew quiet again, the way it did before a storm.
The Glarehound leapt.
Kaelion raised his hand, shouted instinctively, "Stop!"
The shadow beneath him surged.
A shockwave of shadowfire burst outward, catching the Glarehound mid-air. The beast shrieked as its form unraveled—its bones glowing briefly before shattering into ash.
Silence followed.
Kaelion stood alone, panting, the edges of his vision swimming.
The forest was watching again.
But this time, it wasn't hostile.
It was… curious.
"Well," Kaelion gasped, dropping to one knee, "that escalated."
"You unleashed a fragment of my real power," Umbrix said. "It wasn't clean. But it worked."
"I'll take 'not dying' as a win."
He rose unsteadily and looked around. The mist had thinned in one direction. The trees leaned away from a certain path, almost like…
"Is it just me," Kaelion asked aloud, "or is the forest opening a door?"
"It recognizes me," Umbrix replied. "Or rather, what I used to be."
"You're really selling the whole 'I'm not evil' thing today."
"Evil is subjective."
Kaelion sighed and followed the open path, because really, what other choice did he have?
The deeper he walked, the more unnatural the Spiritwild became.
He passed shattered statues covered in moss, their faces worn smooth. Runes he couldn't read pulsed faintly along the roots of trees. He saw a bird once—no wings, just light—but it vanished the moment he blinked.
After what felt like an hour, he came to a clearing.
At its center stood a tree unlike any other.
It was enormous—its bark charred black and etched with glowing silver lines. Runes spiraled up its trunk in slow, rhythmic pulses. The air around it buzzed with memory.
Kaelion stepped forward instinctively.
"Umbrix?"
"An Echo Tree," the spirit said, quieter than usual. "It holds imprints. Memories. Forgotten things."
Kaelion raised a brow. "Of what?"
"People. Spirits. Mistakes."
He walked a full circle around the tree. The symbols shifted with him. Not in shape—but in meaning. They moved like thought, reforming with every glance.
Then the bark opened.
Just a slit—barely wide enough to see inside.
We remember the Spiral King.We remember the one who came before.We remember what should not have returned.
Kaelion's breath hitched. He took a step back.
"It's talking about you," he said. Then paused. "Wait… or is it talking about me?"*
"Yes," Umbrix answered.
The slit in the tree widened, revealing a thread of shadow. It curled upward like a beckoning finger.
"A memory fragment," Umbrix said. "Touch it."
"That feels like a bad idea."
"So does breathing. Yet you do it anyway."
Kaelion scowled, then reached out.
His fingertips grazed the darkness.
And the forest disappeared.
He saw fire. And sky. And a throne of bones.
He saw a man—no, a boy—wearing a crown made of ash and light. His face… familiar.
His voice echoed across the battlefield.
"They will not take me. I am the bond unbroken."
Then—blackness.
Kaelion gasped and stumbled back, collapsing into the moss.
The tree was silent.
His skin tingled. His chest ached. The world slowly returned.
"What was that?"
"A glimpse," Umbrix said. "Of who you were. Or who you might become."
Kaelion didn't answer.
He just sat there, the tree pulsing gently behind him.
The Spiritwild was no longer just a prison.
It was remembering him.
And Kaelion wasn't sure if that was a blessing…
…or a warning.