Chapter 2 -- . Strange forest.
She glanced down at herself — gray suit pants now splattered with dirt, a plain tank top sticking to her skin from the humidity, and her fitted blazer hanging loosely from her shoulders. Her sturdy shoes, once polished and neat, were now scuffed and smeared with mud.
Without thinking twice, Kaya shrugged off the blazer and tied it around her waist. She rolled up her sleeves, adjusted the belt at her hips, and prepared herself for a long trek ahead.
Pushing aside thick leaves and low-hanging branches, Kaya pressed deeper into the forest.
The air felt heavy, almost pressing down on her shoulders. Every step kicked up the smell of wet earth and decaying foliage. Sunlight barely pierced the thick canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow that danced around her like silent watchers.
She had been walking for what felt like half an hour, but nothing changed.
No clearing.
No end.
Just endless green.
A tight knot of unease settled in her chest. She had been in forests before — chasing traitors, hunting down spies — but nothing like this. This forest wasn’t just old. It felt... wrong. Too silent. Too still. As if the trees themselves were holding their breath.
Kaya slowed her steps, scanning the surroundings carefully. The trees here were massive, their trunks so wide it would take four or five people just to circle one. She needed to find the tallest tree among them. If she could climb it, maybe she could finally figure out where the hell she had ended up.
Wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, she adjusted her grip on the blazer tied at her waist.
Somewhere deep inside her, instincts sharpened by years of service whispered:
This isn’t just a forest. It’s something else.
After a few more steps through the thick underbrush, Kaya finally spotted it — a tree that towered slightly above the rest, its trunk broader, branches stretching higher into the sky like dark arms clawing at the clouds.
Relief flickered across her face.
"At last," she muttered under her breath.
Sliding her gun back into the holster strapped to her thigh, Kaya approached the massive tree. She placed both hands firmly against the rough bark, mentally preparing to climb. But the moment she pulled herself up, her boot slipped.
"Damn it—"
She caught herself just in time.
The bark was damp, slick from the humidity, and the sheer width of the tree made it difficult to find stable footing. She tried again, hoisting herself higher, her muscles straining with effort. But it wasn’t easy. Her grip faltered more than once, and twice she nearly lost her balance entirely, scraping her arm against the bark.
Still, Kaya gritted her teeth and kept climbing.
But what Kaya saw above left her speechless.
From the treetop, she had a clear view of the surroundings — an endless stretch of thick, lush greenery that rolled into the distance like a sea of emerald. Here and there, jagged brown mountains jutted upward, cloaked in creeping vines and patches of forest that clung stubbornly to their slopes. It was wild, beautiful... and completely untouched.
She turned, scanning in every direction — but there was nothing. No roads, no smoke, no buildings. Not even the ruins of a village. Just wilderness. Pure, dense, and silent.
A place this vast, this green, should’ve been crawling with tourists or at least mapped out. Yet there were no signs of life. Not even a broken path.
A chill ran down her spine.
Before she could think further...
"Hsssssshhh... khrrrrr... khh-khhhhh..."
a sharp scream tore through the air — high, echoing, and eerily familiar. Her instincts kicked in immediately. She reached for her gun, her fingers fast and precise from years of training.
Her eyes widened.
Vultures.
But these weren’t the usual kind she had encountered on old battlegrounds. These were monstrous — their wingspans nearly as wide as a van, dark feathers glinting under the sunlight. And they weren’t circling. They were coming straight for her.
Kaya braced herself, jaw tight, gun raised.
Even though Kaya wasn’t an animal lover, she didn’t hate them either. She respected wolves for their hunger, even pitied rats for their desperation. But this bird—this vulture—earned her hatred without trying.
It always started the same. The sky above the battlefield would fall into a stunned silence, the kind that came after the screaming stopped. Then came the shadows, gliding in wide, slow circles—too calm, too sure. Vultures. Dozens of them. Sometimes more.
Kaya had seen them more than she’d ever wanted to. She didn’t need to look up to know when they arrived; she could feel them, like a second death creeping in on still-warm flesh. And when she did look, she saw them watching—waiting. Their eyes like pits of nothing. Their wings vast, slow, and patient. They never rushed. They never flinched.
And when they landed...
Gods, the way they fed.
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It wasn’t just meat to them. It was ritual. Beaks cracking through armor-stiffened cloth, talons scraping against bone. The sounds were worse than the battle itself. Not cries. Not even caws. Just dry, guttural hisses—
"Khrrrr... khhhh... hsssshhh..."
—like death whispering secrets through a torn throat.
She saw one once, perched on what was left of her captain’s chest, head tilting like it was mocking her grief. She drew her blade, blood-dried and dull, and chased it off. It didn’t fly far. Just hopped back a few steps, tilted its head again, and waited.
Since then, Kaya never looked at birds the same. Especially not these.
They weren’t just scavengers.
They were survivors.
And deep down, in a corner of her soul that still flinched from the memory, she feared they were better at it than her.
Kaya pointed her gun at the nearest vulture, her fingers tight on the trigger. Her breath was shallow, eyes locked on the shadow circling just above. But before she could fire, something strange caught her attention.
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