The forest had changed.
The trees grew denser, gnarled limbs twisting like claws against the gray sky. The light barely filtered through, casting long, shifting shadows across the damp ground. Whispers threaded through the air—barely audible, yet constant. Caelen's curse stirred, not with the familiar ache of human suffering, but something stranger. Something deeper.
Pain, yes. But it was twisted. Warped.
He stepped carefully through the underbrush, Elira close behind. They reached a clearing ringed by blackened trees, where the world seemed to hold its breath. And there it stood.
A creature made of bark and bone, stitched together by vines and agony. Its limbs were long and wrong, its eyes weeping sap like tears, its mouth frozen in a silent scream. A grotesque parody of life—a being caught between memory and decay.
Elira reached for her dagger.
It moved.
The creature lurched forward, but not with rage. Caelen stepped in front of Elira, his curse flaring, and felt it—grief. A hollow, aching sorrow that resonated with something within him.
"Wait," he said, holding out a hand. "It's not attacking. It's... grieving."
Elira paused, her blade gleaming in the dim light. "What is it?"
Caelen's eyes softened. "Once human. A healer. It tried to be kind. To help others. But the world punished it. Used it. Broke it. And this is what it became."
The creature trembled, its form flickering like dying fire. It let out a low whimper—a sound not meant for this world. Caelen stepped closer, ignoring the throb of his curse, and laid a hand gently on its twisted limb.
The pain hit him like a flood.
He saw visions—of a man who healed the sick, who took on pain willingly, like Caelen did. But he was betrayed, cursed for a mercy the world called weakness. Over time, his body twisted, his name forgotten, his soul lost.
"You're not alone," Caelen whispered. "I know what it means to carry sorrow."
The creature exhaled. A long, shuddering sigh. And then it collapsed into ash, scattered on the wind.
Its pain was gone.
Caelen stood in silence, the curse dimming. His heart ached—not from what he had absorbed, but from what the creature had endured. "It just wanted peace."
Elira stepped beside him, sheathing her dagger. Her eyes were shadowed, reflecting the weight of what they had seen. "Like us," she murmured.
The forest said nothing.
But for the first time, it didn't feel cruel—only sad.