(Time-Stilled World, 46 Kilometers from Forest Entry, Leo's Team, Day 4)
Days and nights bled into one in the Time-Stilled World.
There was no visible sun, no moon, and there was no true change in brightness or rhythm between night and day.
The sky overhead hovered in a permanent twilight, never truly dark, never truly light, just a constant muted orange-gray, that modulated a couple tones at best throughout the day.
However, while the world's skyline was depressing on its own, inside the forest, things were even worse.
The forest canopy was so thick, it strangled what little ambient light made it through, as no matter the hour, it felt like the world had collapsed into darkness— and the only things that gave shape to it were the ghost-white bark of the trees and the faint green hue of their night vision goggles.
Everything looked the same. Everything felt the same. And slowly… It was driving Leo and company insane, as Patricia became the first to crack.
"Ugh—" she clutched her forehead, her steps faltering as she staggered to a stop and leaned against a tree.
"I can't take it anymore," she muttered, voice tight, like she was holding back a scream. "I want to light a fire. I want to see color. Any color. Red. Orange. The color of my own goddamn skin, even if it's just for a second, because as things stand, this night vision and this constant darkness is giving me a severe migraine"
Leo didn't stop walking, but he glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable behind the shadowed lens of his goggles.
"We can't," he said flatly. "You know the rules of the forest. No open flames. It attracts attention."
"Not even for a second?" Patricia snapped, stomping her foot hard into the dirt. "I'm going mad, Leo. Do you get that? You at least have your weird mind-blank assassin discipline. I don't. I need something human to hold on to. Even a fucking matchstick, who knew that not seeing color for a few days will turn me insane?"
Bob didn't speak. He just walked, but even he looked more tired than usual— like the darkness was clawing at the edges of his patience too.
As it wasn't like he and Leo did not understand what Patricia was going through.
They did.
Infact, the two of them also felt the same way, however, they also understood that taking such a risk was not worth it.
And hence despite Patricia's demands, they remained steadfast in their denial and restricted her from lighting a fire.
No more words were exchanged after that.
Not for a few hours.
But the tension stayed.
———
When they next stopped to rest, Leo dozed upright with his back to a rock while Bob sharpened his blade with short, deliberate strokes.
At this point, watching how the two of them were not paying attention to her, Patricia wandered off just a few steps.
Just enough to be alone.
Just enough to think.
Then—
She crouched low, and brushed aside some damp leaves, before scooping a small patch of dry moss from beneath a root.
Her hands moved without much thought, as if lighting a fire was something that came natural to her, as she rubbed her blade against a stone and tried to create a spark.
Fsshhh.
Fsshhh.
Fsshhh—
Spark.
A tiny flame leapt up, dancing across the moss like a fire spirit that had been trapped for too long.
It flickered gold. Then orange. Then red.
And Patricia's eyes widened.
Her face lit up.
"Oh my god—" she whispered, laughing through clenched teeth. "I saw it. I fucking saw it. Red, orange, yellow—and my skin—I saw my own skin." She clapped once, a giddy high-pitched noise escaping her.
However, just as the fire reached its peak brightness, a deep primal roar seemed to arise from the ground, as a tremor shook Leo awake.
*GROAANNN*
A loud groan could be heard, and as he looked around, Leo immediately saw the brightness bouncing off against Patricia's face.
'No she did not—' Leo thought, as he watched how the small fire she lit up began dying almost as fast as it caught fire.
As from start to end, it barely lasted a grand total of 15 seconds.
However, those 15 seconds were enough to room the group.
"Patricia!" Leo hissed, his voice almost panicked. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"It was just a flicker! I didn't light a beacon! I didn't start a bonfire!" she shot back, still grinning like a child who thought she had gotten away with sneaking cake.
"Besides, nothing's coming. We're fine. That sound we heard surely can't be related to this tiny fire" she argued, as Bob didn't speak.
But his eyes were narrowed.
———
And for the next hour… shockingly the group remained unharmed.
The trees didn't shift. The wind didn't howl. Nothing crawled from beneath the roots or blinked between the trunks.
But what they didn't realize was that the forest had already taken notice.
Not in the way a predator notices prey.
But like a system tagging a virus.
It had marked Patricia.
Not for what she was.
But for what she had done.
And from that point on…
The forest began to move.
Quietly. Patiently.
As it's natural, 'white blood cells' were mobilized to take her out.
Because what none of them had truly understood until now… was that the Forest of Death wasn't just a landscape.
It was a living organism.
A singular entity.
Every tree, every vine, every pulsing root that curved beneath their boots— was part of the same body, the same mind.
The reason why no tree inside the forest of death looked different, or why no direction felt distinct, was because there was no variety to begin with.
There were no thousands of trees within this forest.
But rather just one.
One massive, ancient consciousness spread across countless trunks, all connected through a sprawling, dense network of roots buried deep beneath the surface that were constantly breathing, listening and watching.
And Patricia, by striking a spark into that silence, had made her presence known.
She was no longer just a traveler.
She was a threat that could bring the whole system down if she started a forest fire, and hence she had been flagged.