The forest never really grew here. It just hung on.
Right at the rim of Eldoria, where the kingdom's warmth faded until it was thin and ghostly, the land forgot how to breathe. The trees stood apart—skinny, splintered—bark flaking off like old sunburn. Their branches shivered even though the wind had left a long time ago.
Elara stepped soft across the dusty ground, her bare feet pressing into soil that felt too loose, too empty. It gave under her, crumbling like a corpse that's lain too long, and the air picked up a new scent.
Damp earth. And something sharper underneath. Copper.
She drew a slow breath, and that tang settled right at the back of her throat. The forest always smelled like this these days, like it had bled out once and no one had bothered to stitch up the wound.
"Don't go too far."
The voice frayed at the edges, thin and worn from behind her.
Elspeth.
Elara didn't turn. Her eyes locked ahead—where the trees got skinnier and stranger, bones more than life, melting into a foggy gray that wanted to swallow everything. "I'm not," she replied, quiet.
A lie. She was already past the line, always past it. No matter how careful she tried to look, this place always pulled her in.
With every step, the world hushed—a silence too deep for birds or bugs, just a scratchy whisper of bare branches rubbing together, like teeth chattering in a cold skull.
She slowed, heart picking up. Something felt off today. Not the usual emptiness—something underneath it. A pressure. Faint but steady, like the whole sky pressing down, holding its breath.
Her fingers twitched. She knew this feeling—it showed up rarely, but never for anything good.
Her sleeve slipped down as she moved, and the mark around her wrist showed—spiraled and dark, wound tight. Alive. Too alive.
The Reaping Mark.
It pulsed, once. A slow, measured beat.
Elara froze, breath catching.
"…not here," she whispered. As if it listened, as if it could.
A brittle root cracked through the ash near her toes. She stopped, watched it push up, skinny and pale and reaching, like it had waited just for her.
Her chest tightened. She should walk away. She knew that. Instead, she crouched, slow and careful, like trying not to snap a spider's web. Her hand hovered above the root, shaking just a little.
And then she touched it.
The whole world didn't snap—it just tilted, off-center and wrong. Something invisible snapped, a thread snapping quiet in her chest.
The root blackened under her fingers. Decay flashed down its length, curling it up—it died so fast it almost looked like time reversed. Nothing left but dust.
Elara jerked back. Her heart stuttered. The air got cold. Dead cold. She stood up, listening.
The quiet was different now. No longer empty. It pressed in—watchful.
A sound drifted through the trees. Not wind. Not an animal. Something else, awake and listening.
Her pulse hammered.
"Elara."
Brom this time, voice cut sharp and close behind her.
She turned, cottage in sight—the only shape in the thinning gray, leaning like maybe it just couldn't hold on anymore. Weak smoke trailed from the chimney. Even the fire seemed worn out here.
Inside, heat smacked her, thick and stale. Burnt herbs and something much worse—rotten bone.
She glanced around. Everything off, but not obvious. The clutter wasn't all gone, but someone had cleared space. For something.
Brom stood by the table, wide and still, hands forever stained dark. Elspeth lurked at the hearth, knuckles pale where she gripped the edge.
Nobody spoke. Nobody smiled.
Elara shut the door, careful not to make a sound. Quiet stretched long and tight—nothing easy about it.
She studied them, always watching. When she spoke, her voice stayed calm.
"Someone's coming."
Elspeth flinched. Brom's jaw went rigid.
Just like that, Elara knew. She was right.
Brom didn't answer her away.
He looked at her. Really looked this time. And something in his face changed. Not anger. Not irritation.
Something heavier.
Resigned.
Elara felt it before he spoke.
"You shouldn't have gone out today " he said quietly.
"That's not an answer."
Her voice was steady. Her fingers curled a bit at her sides. The Mark under her sleeve pulsed stronger now more insistent, like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
Elspeth took a step forward. "We were going to tell you -"
"When?" Elara cut in her eyes snapping to Elspeth. "After they arrived?"
Silence.
That was enough.
Her stomach tightened. Not with fear. With a cold steady understanding.
"You sold something " she said.
Broms jaw flexed.
Elspeths lips opened, then closed
Elara exhaled slowly.
"Not something " she corrected herself. "Someone."
The lantern flame flickered wildly casting shadows on the walls.
Outside the wind changed.
Beneath it -
A distant sound.
Faint at first.
Clearer.
Hooves.
Elspeths breath caught. "We didn't have a choice."
Elara didn't look at her.
"How much?"
Brom flinched at that.
"Don't -"
"How much?" she repeated, quieter this time.
The hooves grew louder.
Closer.
Measured.
Unhurried.
"They pay well for things " Brom said finally his voice rough. "For... Things."
Elara let that settle.
Useful.
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the grey light outside had begun to dim. Not from sunset. From something passing through the trees.
Shadows.
Moving.
"They're Royal Reapers " Brom added, as if saying it plainly would make it easier. "They'll take you to the palace. You'll live better there than you ever did here."
Elara almost laughed.
Instead she tilted her head a bit.
"You think this is about comfort?"
No one answered.
Because it wasn't.
They all knew it.
The Mark burned.
Sudden sharp pulse that took her breath for a second.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
For a moment -
She saw something else.
Not the cottage.
Not the room.
Roots.
Endless roots, tangled beneath the earth. Hollow. Something vast moved through them. Slow heavy ancient.
Hungry.
Watching.
Elara blinked hard.
The vision snapped.
She was back.
The feeling didn't leave.
"They won't let me live " she said quietly.
Elspeth shook her head quickly. "No, no. They will. You're valuable. They won't -"
"They'll use me " Elara interrupted.
Brom didn't deny it.
That told her everything.
The hooves stopped.
Right outside.
Silence crashed down thick and suffocating.
Then -
A knock.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Once.
Twice.
The sound echoed through the cottage like a warning.
Elspeths hands trembled. Brom straightened, his shoulders stiff, like a man preparing to face something he couldn't fight.
Elara didn't move.
Inside her something shifted.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Something colder.
Sharper.
The Mark pulsed steady now almost... Eager.
Then -
A voice.
Not from the room.
Not from outside.
From deeper.
"So this is where you stop pretending."
Elaras breath caught.
Her gaze flicked around. Nothing had changed.
Brom moved toward the door.
Elspeth whispered something under her breath. Prayer or apology Elara couldn't tell.
The voice came again.
Calm.
Ancient.
Unfamiliar.... Yet not.
"Survive this."
Elaras fingers curled tighter.
"...who are you?" she whispered, barely audible.
"Irrelevant."
The answer came without hesitation.
"What matters is what you are."
The door latch shifted.
Broms hand hovered for a moment before gripping it
Outside something metal shifted armor perhaps.
Not many.
Enough.
"They will take from you " the voice continued, quiet and certain.
"As they have taken from everything."
Elaras gaze lifted slowly to the door.
Her pulse steadied.
Her breathing evened.
The fear that should have been there... Wasn't.
In its place -
Something
". " The voice added, softer now
"you can learn to take back."
The door opened.
Cold air rushed in carrying the scent of iron and ash.
Figures stood beyond the threshold. Cloaked their presence heavy enough to bend the silence around them.
Elara met their gaze.
Unflinching.
For the first time, in her life -
She didn't feel small.