The Forest of Echoes wasn't alive.
Nor dead.
Just forgotten.
Every tree looked like it had been drawn by someone who vaguely remembered what trees looked like.
Leaves fell in loops.
The insects flew aimlessly, like they'd lost their lines of dialogue.
And the air... had no temperature.
It was like breathing in a poorly rendered dream.
---
I followed the coordinates.
Every step was a negotiation with the logic of the world.
The compass spun aimlessly.
Shadows stretched in inconsistent directions.
And sometimes I felt like I was walking in circles—until I remembered there was no "north" in this part of the code.
Then I saw it.
A clearing.
Too symmetrical.
Too clean to be natural.
In the center: a black stone, like old obsidian, etched with symbols that flickered between languages.
As I approached, the system tried to load an event.
> [EVENT NOT AVAILABLE — ANCHOR ERROR]
[FORCE VISUALIZATION?]
[Y/N]
I laughed.
Not because it was funny, but because this was exactly what "S" would've left behind.
I pressed "Y".
---
A projection emerged.
Not magical. Not illusory.
It was a memory encapsulated in glitch.
A hooded figure, face covered in static distortion, spoke with a multiplied voice—like a thousand versions of themself trying to say the same thing.
> "If you made it here, you still have something left of yourself."
"I wasn't so lucky."
"This is not a safe zone. It's a fail node. A place where the system contradicts itself."
"Remember this: the world has no script. Only a narrator desperate to pretend it does."
"They're watching you. But they don't understand what you are yet."
Silence.
Then a whisper, barely audible:
> "Make sure they never can narrate you."
And the figure vanished.
---
I knelt beside the stone.
Touched the symbols.
They were warm.
That wasn't supposed to be possible.
The system was trying to patch this memory like a badly closed wound.
And I... I had just reopened it.
I smiled.
For the first time in days, I didn't feel fear.
I felt purpose.