For a few seconds after Ludwig disappeared, none of them moved.
The forest had swallowed him too easily. No sound. No trace. No direction. Just absence.
Ishtar was the first to react.
"Alright," she said, pushing herself off the edge. "We're not standing here all day."
Octave was already scanning the terrain again, his gaze cutting through the trees with sharp precision.
"He left from that angle," he said. "Statistically, the shortest return path should—"
"He didn't take the shortest path," Ishtar cut in.
Octave frowned.
"That's inefficient."
"That's the point."
A brief silence followed.
Aglaë looked between them, then at Mia.
"So… what do we follow?"
Mia didn't answer immediately. Her gaze moved across the forest, not searching for a path, but for something less defined, something behind it.
"Down," she said finally.
Octave turned toward her.
"Based on what?"
She hesitated, then answered anyway.
"Space."
Ishtar's grin flickered.
"Good. We're already getting cryptic."
Aglaë nodded, even if she didn't fully understand.
"Okay… down."
Octave didn't look convinced, but he moved.
The descent started easily, almost deceptively so. The slope guided them, the ground soft, the trees spaced just enough to allow movement without effort. It felt right for a while, like the forest was cooperating.
Then it shifted.
The ground grew uneven, roots pushing through at sharper angles, the incline breaking into fragments that no longer suggested direction. The trees closed in again, folding distance, distorting perspective.
They adapted without speaking.
At first.
Ishtar moved ahead naturally, forcing a path through denser patches, her steps direct, unapologetic, almost aggressive. Octave stayed slightly behind her, correcting angles, trying to impose structure.
"You're drifting too far left," he said.
"There is no left," Ishtar replied without slowing.
"There is always a left."
"Not here."
Aglaë moved between them, lighter, quieter, her attention shifting constantly, not toward the ground, but toward something she seemed to feel more than see.
Mia followed just behind, watching, sensing.
Time stretched.
Or maybe it dissolved.
The forest repeated itself, or gave the impression that it did. The same patterns of trunks, the same fractures of light, the same uneven ground.
After a while, Octave stopped.
"Hold."
They did.
He turned slowly, scanning behind them, then to the side, then forward again.
"This is incorrect."
Ishtar crossed her arms.
"Based on?"
"We should have reached a visible landmark by now."
"We don't have one."
"That's the problem."
Aglaë looked around.
"It does feel… the same."
Mia didn't move. Her breathing had changed, just slightly.
Inside, something stirred.
Mircalla sharpened, tracking patterns, searching for structure.
Alice pulled in the opposite direction, looking for something familiar that didn't exist here.
And deeper—
Lilith remained still.
Too still.
"We keep going," Ishtar said.
Octave hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes."
They moved again.
The slope shifted without warning. Down became sideways, then uncertain, then meaningless. A branch snapped under Aglaë's foot and she flinched, not from pain, but from the sound.
"Sorry," she murmured.
"No one's hunting you," Ishtar said.
"Yet," Octave added.
Aglaë didn't smile.
Mia's steps slowed, just slightly.
The forest pressed closer, not physically, but perceptually, like it was folding in around them.
She blinked, refocused.
"Stay with us," Ishtar said without turning.
Mia adjusted, closing the distance.
Time passed long enough for fatigue to appear, not in the body, but in the mind. The effort of staying present began to weigh on them.
Octave spoke again.
"We're looping."
Ishtar stopped and turned.
"No, we're not."
"Yes. We are."
He pointed toward a tree.
"That one. Double split at the base."
Aglaë looked.
"…they all look the same."
"No," Octave said. "That one doesn't."
A pause.
"And we've passed it already."
Silence settled.
Ishtar stepped forward, placing a hand against the bark as if the tree might contradict him.
It didn't.
"Okay," she said. "So what."
"So we're not progressing."
"Then we adjust."
Mia closed her eyes briefly.
Inside, the noise rose.
Mircalla pushing for control, recalculating, searching for an exit.
Alice resisting, clinging to stability, to something known.
A tightening in her chest.
She opened her eyes again.
"We're not lost," she said.
Her voice was calm, but thinner than before.
Octave looked at her.
"That is objectively incorrect."
"No," she replied. "We're just… not aligned."
Ishtar glanced at her, interest flickering.
"Explain."
Mia hesitated. The words weren't clear, but the feeling was.
"The place doesn't respond to direction," she said slowly. "It responds to something else."
Aglaë nodded immediately.
"I feel that too."
Octave didn't.
"That's not measurable."
"Not everything is," Ishtar replied.
A pause stretched between them.
"Then what do we do?" Aglaë asked.
Mia didn't answer right away.
Inside, a whisper surfaced.
Soft.
Present.
You're not ready.
Her jaw tightened.
"Keep moving," she said.
Simple.
Forward.
They followed.
But something had changed.
The walk was no longer a walk.
It carried weight now.
Time passed long enough for the forest to stop feeling neutral, long enough for silence to stop being comfortable.
Octave spoke less, which meant he was thinking more.
Ishtar pushed harder, faster, as if force alone could break the pattern.
Aglaë stayed closer to Mia without saying why.
And Mia—
Mia held it together.
But only just.
The pressure wasn't outside.
It was building inside.
And it wasn't done yet.