The forest doesn't call. It waits.
Elias stood before the still villagers, his breath catching in the eerie silence of the Hollow Among Roots. The air felt heavy now, thicker than ever before. A sense of pressure built within his chest, suffocating him with its weight. The land seemed alive—sensitive to his every breath, every movement. He couldn't escape the feeling that the forest was watching him, as though it had always been aware of his presence.
The Hollow, once teeming with the energy of life and ritual, now lay still and silent. Not even the distant cries of birds filled the void. A pervasive stillness had fallen over the entire village, and Elias felt an unsettling calmness that made his skin crawl.
Before him stood the villagers, frozen in place, their forms rigid and unmoving. There was something deeply unnatural about them. Their bodies were not quite human anymore—twisted, distorted by the forest's unnatural touch. Their skin had hardened, darkened, and cracked, resembling the bark of ancient trees. Their eyes were vacant, blackened, as if drained of any trace of humanity, their mouths slightly ajar as though they had forgotten how to speak.
For a brief moment, Elias felt a flicker of hesitation, a flash of human pity for these people who had once walked alongside him in the village. But then, a cold wave of recognition swept through him.
They were already gone.
They had become part of the forest—part of the roots, part of the earth. And the truth, now more vivid than ever, twisted its way into his mind.
He wasn't human anymore.
His father's sacrifice—the one he had spent so many years trying to understand—hadn't been just a desperate attempt to protect him. It had been a deeper bond, an unbreakable connection to something far older, far more primal than anything Elias had ever imagined.
His father had become the forest.
Elias's hands trembled as he reached out to touch the nearest villager. The woman's body was rigid, frozen in time. Her skin felt cold and hard, but there was a familiar pulse beneath it. The sensation was like a jolt of electricity shooting through his fingertips, filling him with an unspoken knowledge.
The forest.
It was alive. It was speaking to him. It had been waiting for him.
He felt a rush of memories, a flood of visions that were not his own but had somehow been inherited—passed down through the blood of his family. The soil beneath his feet seemed to thrum, the air thick with the scent of moss and decay. The truth of his lineage was now undeniable.
The forest was not just a collection of trees. It was an entity, a living organism that stretched across the land, its roots feeding into the deepest parts of the earth. His father had sacrificed his humanity, had become one with the land in order to protect it, to hold the balance of nature together.
But now, it was time for Elias to fulfill his father's legacy.
The truth of what he was—to his core—sank in, deep into his bones. He had never truly been a man. He was the forest's bloodline, a living vessel for its power. He could feel the trees, the roots, the very ground beneath him calling to him. He was one with it. The forest had chosen him.
A rush of exhilaration coursed through Elias's veins. He had power. The forest had given it to him. But with that power came a weight—a burden.
The villagers remained motionless, statuesque in their new forms. Their blank, unblinking eyes stared into nothingness, yet Elias could feel that they weren't entirely gone. The forest had absorbed them, their essence now part of the land. And as he stood among them, Elias realized something darker: He was next. He, too, would eventually become part of the forest, consumed by it, twisted and reshaped by its roots.
But for now, the forest had given him a choice.
Elias closed his eyes and reached deep within himself, stretching his consciousness into the earth. The forest opened up to him, its vastness flooding his senses. The roots extended beneath him like a living network, pulsing with energy. He could feel them move, each tendril responding to his presence as if welcoming him back.
The power surged through his chest, wrapping around his lungs, seeping into his bloodstream. It was intoxicating—overwhelming. He could feel the pulse of the earth in time with his own heartbeat. The trees, once distant and cold, were now part of him. He could hear their whispers, not in words, but in sensations—like an echo of something ancient and primeval.
His vision blurred, the world around him twisting. His father appeared before him. But not as he remembered. No longer a man, but an entity—a vast, gnarled creature made of wood and roots. His father's face, though still present, had merged with the forest, becoming part of the land itself.
Elias's throat tightened as the memory of his father's words flooded his mind:
"I gave it everything. But it remembers."
The forest had taken his father's essence—his flesh—and had molded it into something else. Something more than human. Something more than natural.
The realization struck him like a physical blow: His father had been consumed by the forest, his soul twisted into something unrecognizable. And now Elias was being called to take his place. The forest demanded his blood. It needed him.
Elias's hands shook as he reached out to the nearest tree. The bark felt warm beneath his fingertips, alive. He felt it—a pulse—like a heartbeat beneath the surface. The tree recognized him. It welcomed him. And as he closed his eyes, he felt himself merge with it.
The power surged through him. He could feel the roots stretching, digging into the soil, pulling life from the earth. The trees swayed, their branches reaching toward him. The forest had always been alive, but now—now it was his.
The villagers—what was left of them—remained frozen, their forms fading, becoming part of the forest. And in that moment, Elias understood. He was the forest now. His blood had been mixed with its roots. His father's sacrifice was complete, but his journey had just begun.
Elias didn't know what he would become in the end. He didn't know what the forest would demand of him. But one thing was certain: He couldn't run anymore.
The forest was inside him.
He was the forest.
And the forest had waited for him.
[To be continued…]