Ash sat against the cave wall, arms wrapped around his knees. His stomach made a low sound. He was hungry. Real hungry.
He glanced at the dead Gloomstalker lying on the stone floor a few feet away. Its body was thick and packed with meat. Maybe enough for two days. Maybe three.
But cooking it? No way.
A fire would mean light. Light would mean death. The creatures that roamed this area—half of them couldn't see, but they could smell fire like it was blood. One spark and they'd be surrounded in minutes.
So they sat in silence, their stomachs tight, as the hours passed.
Then, a soft squeak.
Ash looked up.
Then another squeak. And another. A high-pitched chittering, echoing off the walls.
At first it was just one sound. Then ten. Then a hundred. The shadows near the corpse of the Gloomstalker started to move.
Ash leaned forward, squinting.
Dozens of small creatures were crawling out from cracks in the wall. From the floor. From under the stones. They were like rats—but not rats. Bigger mouths. Longer legs. Eyes that didn't blink. Their skin was pale and wrinkled like old paper.
They didn't look at Ash or Ken. They just went straight to the body. And they started eating. Devouring.
Tearing into the flesh like it was the last meal they'd ever get. Screeching and fighting and spilling black blood all over the cave floor.
Ash stood up slowly.
Ken stared too. Quiet. His face still pale.
"We can't stay here," Ash whispered.
Ken nodded.
Ash reached out his hand. "Let me carry you. You're not—"
"I can walk," Ken said. His voice was hoarse, but steady. "I'm not useless."
Ash didn't push.
They both grabbed their things—what little they had—and stepped carefully around the edge of the cave, trying not to make a sound.
The feeding creatures didn't even notice them. Their tiny bodies were twitching, piled over each other, feasting like they hadn't eaten in years.
Ash stepped over a severed claw. Ken stumbled a little but kept going. Once they were outside, the cold hit them hard. The sky above was turning from black to gray.
They walked into the trees. The forest wasn't loud, but it wasn't silent either. There were sounds you could almost hear—breathing that wasn't yours. Something rustling that stopped when you turned. Low whispers between the wind.
Ash walked in front, his hand near his waist, ready to draw a weapon he no longer wanted to hold.
Ken walked behind, slower. Still limping. Still quiet.
The silence between them wasn't angry—it was just... heavy. Full of things they didn't know how to say yet.
After a while, they found it.
A tall tree. Wider than any they'd seen before. Its trunk was thick and cracked. Branches spiraled out in strange shapes.
Ash looked up. It was perfect.
They couldn't keep walking. They needed rest. Not sleep exactly—just a place where nothing could reach them for a few hours. Somewhere above the ground.
"Let's climb it," Ash said softly.
Ken just nodded. His legs still shook, but he didn't argue.
Ash went first, pulling himself up the bark, then leaned down and helped Ken the rest of the way. The branches creaked under their weight but didn't snap. That was enough.
They sat beside each other. Legs hanging. Shoulders close. Their eyes met for a second. Then both of them looked away. The silence sat between them again.
Then—Ken spoke. His voice was low. Rough. Like the words were heavy in his throat.
"Y'know… when I died," he said. "I saw some things."
Ash didn't reply. He didn't want to know.
But Ken kept going.
"At first… it was nothing. Just darkness. Not like when you close your eyes. Not like night. Real nothing. The kind of dark that eats light. I couldn't feel my hands. My face. My body. I don't even think I had a body."
Ash looked down. The branches below them swayed slightly.
"There was no heaven. No hell. Just… stillness. Like the world had forgotten me, I always figured it would be like that. No big ending. Just emptiness."
Ken swallowed. His voice dropped even lower.
"But then I saw them."
"I don't know how. I didn't have eyes. But I saw them. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They had the presence of gods. I just… knew they were gods. Even though gods don't exist."
The wind passed through the leaves, but didn't break the silence.
"They were bowing," Ken said. "Kneeling. Every one of them. Not moving. But none of them had heads. Just… necks. Torn open. And from those wounds, blood was pouring out like rivers. Endless and thick and red. It filled everything."
"And they were bowing to something. In the dark."
Ken's hands were shaking now. Just a little.
"I didn't see it. I couldn't. It was too far… or maybe too big. I could only feel it. Like it was everywhere at once. Like it had no shape. Just weight. Pressure. Something that pushed down on your soul. Something so old it didn't have a name anymore."
Ash's throat was dry.
"I tried to close my eyes," Ken whispered, "but I didn't have any. I couldn't stop seeing it. I couldn't not feel it. It wasn't looking at me. Not yet. But I knew… if it ever did, I'd never come back. Not even as a memory."
He stopped for a long time.
Then, he spoke again.
"When I woke up… it was like I'd been spat out. Like I got too close. Like I brushed against its… grace, or whatever you call it."
Ash's fingers curled around the bark.
"All this time," Ken said, "I kept thinking about it. Wondering why I was scared. I've never feared death. Not really. Ever since I signed up as a hero, I accepted it. I made peace with it. So why was I shaking?"
He looked up at the sky, eyes half-closed.
"It wasn't death," he said. "I wasn't scared of dying. I was scared of that. Of what comes after, when even death dies. Of that thing in the dark. That thing that makes gods kneel without heads."
Ash didn't know what to say. He just sat there, listening to the sounds far below. The forest was still alive. Still watching. Still crawling. But for a few seconds, it was nothing compared to what Ken had seen.
And that made it worse. They didn't sleep that night.
They just sat there.
In the dark.
Trying not to think about the thing that watched them from far, far below the stars.