They walked for nearly an hour, though the forest offered no sense of time.
The mist thinned and thickened in irregular pulses. Light filtered down in odd hues—pale gold one moment, violet-gray the next. Shadows bent in wrong directions, like they had opinions about where light belonged.
The Spiritwild did not follow natural laws.
Wren led with silent confidence, weaving between roots and hanging vines like she'd walked this path a hundred times. Kaelion followed, a few steps behind, eyes flicking toward every rustle in the dark. His shoulders burned. His legs ached. And Umbrix had gone unusually quiet.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
"You always this talkative?" Kaelion asked Wren, mostly to fill the silence.
She didn't slow. "I talk when I need to."
"Well, if it helps, I'm great at providing background noise."
"Noted."
Kaelion smiled faintly and ducked under a low branch that arched like a question mark. "So how long until the Spiritwild devours my soul, or whatever fun thing happens to exiled princes out here?"
"That depends," she said.
"On what?"
"If you shut up long enough to listen to it."
Kaelion glanced around. The trees did feel... expectant.
"She's not wrong," Umbrix finally said. "The Spiritwild isn't just a forest. It's a memory. You stir it every time you speak its name aloud."
"We're walking on history," Kaelion muttered.
"You're walking on the ruins of gods."
The thought silenced him.
They climbed a moss-slick ridge and crossed under a fallen tree, where the air grew thinner and the mist hung lower. At the edge of a clearing stood broken stone columns, weathered and half-swallowed by the earth. They leaned like they were drunk on time.
Wren slowed. "This is it."
Kaelion stepped into the overgrown shrine and exhaled.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the forest pressure thinned. Like stepping through an invisible veil. The wild didn't stop watching—but it backed off. Slightly.
"Feels... calmer," he said.
"Old warding," Wren replied. "Still holds, just barely."
She walked across the space and brushed moss from a stone slab near the center—an altar, long cracked down the middle. Kaelion approached one of the standing pillars, fingers tracing weathered glyphs half-eaten by time. He didn't know the language, but it felt familiar.
"Pre-Rift era," Wren said, watching him. "Back when spirits and mortals weren't divided. Before bloodlines and crowns."
Kaelion paused at a mural half-hidden behind vines.
It showed a spiral—etched in deep grooves, surrounded by figures kneeling in concentric circles. Some bore weapons. Others wore masks. In the center of the spiral was a single crown.
The image made his skin crawl.
"I think I've seen this before."
"You have," Wren said. "It's on your bond mark."
Kaelion lifted his hand. The faint spiral-glow still shimmered beneath the skin on his palm.
"They marked me," he whispered.
"No," Umbrix said, rising faintly within him, "they feared what you would become, so they locked it away. You weren't born with this mark. It was given back."
Kaelion turned slowly. "So this was yours, once?"
"Not mine. Ours."
Wren crouched beside Nyro, feeding the fox spirit something from a pouch of dried berries. "You've really never seen this place before?"
Kaelion shook his head. "Only in flashes. Dreams. Echoes, maybe."
"Then this is fate," she muttered.
"Not a fan of fate. Got exiled because of it."
Wren gave the faintest hint of a smile, then quickly buried it behind silence again. "We rest here tonight. The forest won't breach the shrine. Not directly."
Kaelion sat down beside a cracked pillar, exhaling heavily. "You've done this before. Run from things in the woods."
"I don't run," she said.
Kaelion raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. "Fine. I run when I have to."
"She's clever," Umbrix murmured. "And dangerous. A rare combination."
"And she hasn't tried to kill me yet. So she's my favorite person so far."
After a moment, Wren said, "The Spiritwild used to be a borderland. Spiritkeepers maintained the balance between bonded and free spirits. But over time, the balance broke. People got greedy. Spirits got vengeful. The trees closed in."
"Let me guess," Kaelion said, "you were a Spiritkeeper?"
"My parents were. I was... training." Her voice darkened. "Didn't matter. A corrupted spirit broke the line. Everything fell."
She didn't go on.
Kaelion didn't push.
Instead, he looked at the old altar and asked, "Why do you help people like me?"
"I don't."
He blinked. "Oh. Harsh."
"I mean I don't usually help. But you're not just a bonded. You're something old. And the forest is afraid of you."
"That's not fear," Umbrix said. "It's recognition."
A sudden tremor passed beneath them. Subtle, but real.
Kaelion sat up straighter.
Wren stood, hand on her dagger.
Nyro hissed, eyes glowing brighter.
Then came a pulse.
Not light. Not sound.
A presence.
Deep. Cold. Immense.
Kaelion couldn't breathe for a moment.
"Something's awake," he whispered.
"Not awake," Umbrix corrected. "Aware."
Wren's voice was clipped. "What is it?"
"It was once a name," Umbrix said. "Then a punishment. Now, it's watching."
Kaelion swayed.
The bond inside his chest surged—not painful, but tight. Like being pulled toward something he couldn't see.
The ancient trees beyond the shrine groaned.
For a second, Kaelion heard it again:
"Spiral King…"
The voice was in the stone. In the roots. In the dirt beneath them.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
Wren nodded. Her knuckles were white around her dagger hilt.
"Whatever that was," she said, "it was far. But not far enough. We leave at first light."
Kaelion nodded. "Where to?"
"There's someone I know. A spirit archivist—exiled for forbidden research. If anyone knows what Umbrix is, it's her."
"And if she doesn't?"
Wren met his eyes. "Then we find someone who does. Before the forest finds us again."
Kaelion lay back against the pillar, watching the leaves above. They didn't move, but they shimmered faintly. The stars hadn't appeared yet—but he didn't expect them to. Not here.
"Hey," he said softly.
Wren looked up.
"Thanks. For not leaving me."
She hesitated.
Then, just barely: "Don't thank me yet."
"That girl is bracing to bury you," Umbrix said."Good to know.""And still she stays."
The Spiritwild slept uneasily around them.
And the old things beneath the roots whispered names long buried.