Ren ran.
The forest blurred past him, a twisting snarl of shadows and branches that clawed at his coat like hands from the earth. His breath tore from his lungs in ragged bursts, but he didn't stop. Couldn't. Not with the sound behind him—that sound like wet silk tearing, like something being birthed into the world through a wound.
The air grew thicker, too thick. Every step felt like he was wading through syrupy memory, every breath was not just air but the weight of the past pressing down on his chest. The ritual. The circle. The words spoken in trembling unity. A promise sealed in soul blood.
And the thing they left behind…
It remembered.
