Yggdrasil

The moment our eyes meet, time feels like it splinters. For a second, I feel how cold the air is, how the ground beneath my feet feels heavy, as if the earth itself resists my steps. Unreadable and yet piercing. A strange chill runs down my spine, and I fight the urge to look away, to retreat. But I won’t. Not now.

“What do you want?”

She asks, her voice low and guarded. She doesn’t stand up, staying pressed against the track, as if the iron rails anchor her to this forbidden place.

I step closer, ignoring her question, and crouch down until we’re at eye level. My gaze shifts to the makeshift bandage she’s wrapped around her arm.

“You’re going to get an infection”

I say calmly.

“You can’t use your uniform, it’s too dirty for that”

She stares at me for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether I’m serious. Maybe she expected me to be clueless about something as basic as wound care. Maybe she is just surprised at how different I am to the other citizens.

Her expression sharpens, and she huffs in frustration.

“What do you take me for? You think I don’t know that?”

She lifts her arm slightly, showing me the bandage with a flick of her wrist.

“I used the inner lining — the clean part — for the bandage. I’m not an idiot.”

The defiance in her voice is clear, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath it — maybe surprise, annoyed that I caught her off guard.

“Smart.”

I reply, a small grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“But you missed a spot.”

She glares as I rip half of my own skirt, as I ready another bandage for the wound on the back of her head. Elewp’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she’s going to push me away. The tension between us tightens like a wire, but then — hesitation. She flinches slightly as I move closer, like a stray fox unsure whether to trust or bite.

“Hold still, this won’t take long.”

Elewp shifts, pulling away just enough to make her annoyance known, but she doesn’t stop me. As I gently wrap the torn fabric around her forehead, I feel her watching me, trying to puzzle out my motives.

“Why are you doing this?”

I meet her gaze briefly.

“Because you’re hurt.”

I say simply, as if that’s reason enough.

“That’s not the truth.”

She says as a fact.

I finish securing the bandage, smoothing it down carefully.

“I will just help you, then we can go our separate ways. Even so, will you even be able to walk to your house in that state?”

Elewp glares at me. She tries getting up, but the way she sways slightly, trying to steady herself, betrays her stubborn words.

I stand, offering my hand.

“Yeah? Well, you don’t look like it.”

For a moment, I think she’ll shove me away again, but instead, she exhales sharply — resigned, tired.

“Then you, someone who doesn’t know anything about me…

You will help me heal?”

There is no going back now.

“Yeah. I will.”

Elewp scoffs, like the idea is ridiculous, but there’s something vulnerable beneath her usual defiance — something she’s not used to showing. She hesitates, her pride clearly warring with the practicality of accepting help.

“Fine.”

The town is dimming into twilight, painting the edges of the trees with shadows. The abandoned. Elewp’s hand slips into mine, hesitant at first, but she leans onto my shoulder just enough to steady herself, allowing me to support her as we walk the rest of the way.

She doesn’t say a word, and the silence between us grows heavier with every step — thick and awkward, like the air before a storm. I glance at her occasionally, waiting for some comment or remark, but she offers none, her gaze fixed ahead as if the weight of conversation is too much to bear.

The quiet feels fragile, as if any word might shatter it, so I let it be. For now, the sound of our footsteps on the wood and the distant rustle of the wind are the only things that fill the space around us.

“Something still doesn’t make sense.

How did you know I was here?”

Her question catches me off guard, cutting through the silence like a blade. I glance at her, trying to read her expression, but her gaze remains fixed ahead — neutral, but tinged with doubt.

“I just…knew.”

I say slowly, realizing how thin and unsatisfying the answer sounds.

She shoots me a side-eye glance.

“You just knew?”

I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

“I figured you’d be here. You always walk back home through the tracks, right?”

Elewp raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

“I’ve never seen you before in my class.

Only some people in my class know about where I’m from.

Who told you that?”

Her question lands heavy, and I feel my chest tighten under the weight of it. It’s a warning, daring me to explain myself before she shuts me out completely.

“I… Saw you stumbling, with wounds all over your body.

Then I’ve followed you here, you needed help.”

Elewp’s gaze hardens. She studies me carefully, like someone reading between the lines of a story. She takes a long while to say another line as we continue walking through the tracks, pressure increasing through each step.

“What do you think they deserved?”

Her voice, with not a sliver of emotion, echoes through the sky.

A question, cold and heavy. It’s not just a question — it’s a test. I can feel it in the way she holds herself, the way her eyes narrow slightly as if gauging my response, ready to judge every word I say.

I swallow hard, my mind racing. What do I think they deserved? Kyros and his friends — what they did wasn’t just cruel, it was deliberate. But Elewp isn’t asking for my sympathy or outrage. She’s looking for something else, something deeper.

“I don’t know.”

I say quietly, feeling the weight of honesty pressing down on me.

“But hurting them back… I don’t think it would change anything.

I’m glad you didn’t push him in the end.”

She freezes, her entire body going rigid.

The air between us thickens, cold and brittle like the moments before glass shatters. Her back is slightly hunched, and though she doesn’t look at me, I can see every muscle in her body pulled tight as if ready to snap. My heart pounds in my chest. Something has shifted in Elewp, something I can’t quite grasp, and it feels like if I make the wrong move now, she’ll slip away forever.

“Elewp, wait —”

“No.”

Her voice cuts, sharp and final, slicing any hope I had of reaching her. She steps back, and in her rush to escape, her shoe catches on a screw jutting from the tracks. The sudden jolt sends her stumbling to the ground with a painful thud.

I lurch forward to catch her, but before I can even stretch out my hand, she shoves me away with a force I didn’t think she had left. I stumble backward as she scrambles to her feet, ignoring the way her bandage catches and tears against the sharp metal. Blood seeps through the torn fabric, staining her skin, but she doesn’t even flinch. Pain means nothing to her now — it’s like she’s running on pure instinct, driven by something deeper, something raw and broken.

And then… She points at me.

Her finger trembles, but not from weakness alone — from fury. The kind that’s born from betrayal.

“I knew it!”

She spits, her voice cracking under the weight of everything she held back.

“I knew you were hiding something, but I didn’t know what. I thought… I thought maybe you really wanted to help me. What a fool I was.”

Her words are loud, too loud, like they’ve been trapped inside her for so long that they’re clawing their way out all at once. She doesn’t care if I hear her thoughts, doesn’t care if I see the fractures in her. In this moment, she’s unravelling.

“There are only two kinds of people I can’t read.”

She continues, her voice rising with every word.

“Psychopaths — people who feel nothing at all — and people whose one emotion is so overwhelming it drown everything else out.”

She steps closer, her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, as if every word costs her a piece of herself.

“And you…”

She hisses.

“You were so loud with your [Curiosity] that I couldn’t see what else you were feeling. I thought maybe it meant something. I thought maybe you wanted to know me, that maybe… Just maybe… You actually cared.”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and for a moment, her anger flickers — not gone, but layered with something else. Something smaller, more fragile.

I stand there, frozen, my mouth dry. I want to say something, anything, to explain. But how do I tell her that she’s not wrong? That yes, I was curious… But do I care now?

Elewp’s eyes are glassy, as if every emotion she’s tried to bury is surfacing at once, too fast to control. And yet, her expression sharpens as if she’s forcing the tears back, refusing to let herself break in front of me.

“You saw everything.”

She whispers.

“You were there. When they laughed at me, when they stepped on me, when they tore me apart.” — she clutches her injured arm, her fingers pressing into the raw wound as if she can contain the pain, hold it all inside.

“You stood there and watched. You didn’t help. You didn’t stop them. I didn’t notice you before, or maybe I did, but I didn’t pay enough attention. Do you know what you felt? What you were thinking while I was bleeding?”

Her next words fall like a hammer.

“Curiosity.”

My stomach drops. There’s no denying it. I can’t lie to her, not when the truth slices so close to my heart. I thought I couldn’t do anything to help her. But to her, it was betrayal. And in a way, she’s right. I wasn’t there when she needed someone.

Her expression twists, the edges of her rage softening into something worse. Something like despair.

“And now it all makes sense.” — She talks to herself.

“No one else knew. No one knew I had that device — only that I was from the Black Forest.” — Her eyes narrow, and the accusation that follows is a dagger through my ribs.

“You told them, didn’t you? You’re the one who gave me away.”

“I thought they already knew. I couldn’t know it was a —"

“The result is the same!” — She snaps, cutting me off.

“It Is too late now, I knew I couldn’t trust anyone from Procyon. I knew…”

Her voice falters for a moment, as if the weight of the past is too heavy to bear.

“You people always do the same thing. You act like you care, you get close, and then you hurt me.”

She swallows hard, her throat bobbing as she fights the tears spilling out.

[Abandonment]

“Then you leave. And then everyone hates me.”

The words hang between us like a noose, tightening with every second of silence. Without another word, she turns and runs. She doesn’t care about the pain or the blood, doesn’t care that her wounds are still open. All she cares about is getting away from me, as far away as she can.

“Elewp, please!” — I call after her, but she doesn’t stop.

Her steps are uneven, but she doesn’t slow down, as if the very thought of staying near me is unbearable. The weight of her words crashes over me, leaving me stranded on the tracks, too stunned to move.

This was my chance. My only chance to reach her.

And I lost it.

The night begins to deepen, wrapping around me like a shroud, and the ache in my chest spreads — something sharp and relentless that gnaws at me from within. I could go back, return to my empty room and the comfort of routines that never change, but the thought of retreating, of letting the truth slip away forever, is unbearable.

Something inside of me — a spark, a pull, a desire I can’t ignore.

[Curiosity]

The same feeling that has driven me to watch, to wonder, to push too far — now it consumes me. It pushes me forward, telling me that there’s something there, beyond the lies I’ve been fed my entire life. If Elewp can survive in the Black Forest — wounded, alone — then the myths can’t be true. If she lives among the dead trees and the blackened soil, then what else has been a lie?

The world outside… It might still exist. If there is an outside. And if it does, I have to see it for myself. I need to know.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my legs move on their own, carrying me off the familiar path toward the edge of the forest.

The shift is sudden, like crossing an invisible line.

On one side, the world I’ve always known stretches behind me — familiar streets, gray skies, the dull hum of life I’ve never belonged to. But with one step forward, everything changes.

The earth beneath my feet turns brittle, as if it has been drained of life. Black dust clings to my boots with every step, like ash that never settled. The train tracks continue ahead, but the wooden planks are as dark as the soil, crumbling beneath my weight with every step I take. The iron rails, however, are not even rusted.

The deeper I walk, the heavier the air becomes. There is no wind here, no sound except for the faint crunch of my boots against the ground. It’s like standing atop a mountain, where every breath feels thinner than the last. My lungs strain for oxygen that isn’t there, and a dull ache begins to creep into my skull.

But I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

Elewp is out here, somewhere, and the thought of her — wounded and alone in this cold, silent wasteland — drives me forward. The air burns with every breath, and the chill settles deep into my bones. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering, my skin numb from the cold. I should have brought a coat.

God, how long has she lived like this?

She wore one in class, didn’t she? A coat that Kyros had torn to shreds. My stomach twists. She must be freezing out here.

I try not to think about what would happen if she collapsed.

Seconds blur into minutes, and minutes bleed into hours.

There’s no way to tell time here. The night stretches endlessly, with no stars and no sun to guide me — only the jagged silhouettes of dead trees and the lifeless expanse of the forest floor. My head pounds, and my vision swims at the edges, as if the black dust is seeping into my brain.

I cough suddenly, the sound sharp and ragged in the quiet. My chest tightens, and I look down at my hand. Blood.

The sight of it stirs panic deep within me. I’ve been breathing this air for hours — air thick with dust, air that feels wrong. My lungs feel heavy, like they’re filling with something I can’t cough out.

I force myself to move, every step a battle against the cold and the pain that gnaws at the edges of my mind. I have to find her. I have to know if she’s okay. But the forest stretches endlessly in every direction, a maze of dead trees and shifting shadows.

What if she left the tracks? What if she’s deeper in the woods, where I can’t follow?

The thought presses down on me like a stone. I promised I wouldn’t get close to her again. That’s what she wanted, and it’s the least I can do.

But what if she’s lying somewhere — freezing, bleeding — and I never find her?

A sound cuts through the silence, low and haunting.

“Wa — oooooooooooooon.”

A wolf’s howl.

The noise sends fear through me, sharper than the cold in my veins. My heart stutters in my chest. A wolf? How can there be wolves here? There’s nothing alive in this place — no grass, no animals, no prey for a predator to hunt.

The myths about the black wolves were supposed to be just that — myths. They couldn’t be real. Could they?

I try to steady my breathing, but the sound echoes through the forest, bouncing off the trees, making it impossible to tell where it’s coming from. My pulse quickens, panic creeping in like a shadow I can’t escape.

I need to leave. I need to turn back.

I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see the familiar train tracks leading back to Procyon.

But there’s nothing.

The tracks are gone.

The wooden planks, the iron rails — everything has vanished into the black dust. I whirl around, searching frantically for the path I just walked, but it’s gone. It’s as if the forest has swallowed it whole.

My breath catches in my throat. This can’t be real. It has to be the dust — lack of oxygen. A hallucination. That’s what happened to the people who left Procyon, isn’t it? They got lost in these woods, disoriented, and never found their way back.

My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else. What if I can’t find my way out?

The black dust clings to my skin, my clothes, my thoughts. Every tree looks the same, and the further I walk, the more everything blurs together. My legs are heavy, my chest tight. A pressure builds in my skull, squeezing my mind until I’m suffocating.

I cough again, more blood staining my hand. I need to get out.

A sudden, overwhelming feeling grips me — something cold and sharp, burrowing into my chest like a dagger

[Loneliness]

The word presses into my mind, heavy and suffocating. I am alone. Utterly, completely alone. The weight of that truth sinks into my bones, dragging me down like an anchor. There is no one coming for me. No one knows I’m out here.

And I can feel it — something, watching, something watching just beyond the edge of my vision.

The wolves.

Stay away from her. You’ll thank me later.

They are here.

Never venture into the Black Forest.

I run.

The path can be treacherous for those who stray.

My legs move before my mind can catch up, driven by blind, animal panic. The train tracks leading outside, crumble beneath my feet, falling away into the darkness like they were never there.

Nanfaz, be careful today.

I sprint forward, the black dust swirling around me, choking me. Every breath burns. I have to keep moving. If I stop, the wolves will find me.

I feel like you’re waiting for something.

“Choo-toottoottoot...”

The sound of a train. It cuts through the air like a lifeline, and hope flares in my chest. A train! If I can reach it, I’ll be safe. I just need to get to the door, open it, escape this nightmare.

For the door to open.

The tracks tremble beneath my feet as the red lights appear in the distance, glowing brighter and brighter. Relief floods me — until I realize —

Those aren’t lights, they’re eyes.

Your time is nigh, little cat.

It’s not a train.

My breath catches, and my body freezes. This is it. I’ve crossed the line, wandered too far.

They say curiosity killed the cat.

It emerges from the blackness like a living shadow, too large, too wrong to belong in this world. My first thought is this thing should not exist. But it does. It’s here, towering over me, its twisted, sinewy form shifting in the dark, as if the night itself birthed it from some fever dream. Every step it takes feels deliberate, measured — like it knows the effect it has on me. Like it knows I’ve already made a mistake by being here.

Its head resembles a wolf’s, but stretched grotesquely, as though someone dragged its snout through time and space until it distorted into this terrible in-between shape. Too long. Too narrow. A cooked grin spreads across its malformed muzzle, revealing rows of jagged teeth — some sharp and some cracked, Its ears flick sharply, two pointed spikes twisted at odd angles, twitching as though it hears something only it can hear — something I was never meant to.

The eyes… They’re huge, empty, glowing orbs of red nothingness, each one bigger than it should be. They don’t just see me — they pierce me, like daggers driven deep into the parts of myself I want no one to know. It looks at me like I’m already undone, like it’s dissecting me thought by thought, fear by fear, pulling apart my intentions the way a child picks apart the wings of an insect.

It tilts its head slowly, almost in mockery, as if it knows I’ll break soon — like it’s enjoying the anticipation. And in that moment, something primal stirs, the instinct to flee — but I can’t. I feel like I’ve been rooted to the ground, like my legs have been swallowed by the black earth beneath me. Every breath too shallow, every heartbeat too loud, pounding like a warning I’m too late to heed.

The creature’s body is impossibly thin, emaciated to the point where every rib juts out under matted, black fur. The fur — it’s like wire, thick and wild, growing in uneven patches. Some parts are bare, exposing cracked, leathery skin that stretches taut over a skeletal frame. It’s as if the creature is half-dead, but that thought offers no comfort — because whatever life it has left is pure, predatory malice.

Its limbs are long and crooked, with joints bent the wrong way, as though something tried to assemble a wolf but got the pieces all wrong. The forelegs end in hooked claws, each digit too long, curling inward like a bird of prey’s talons. When it steps, the ground seems to yield beneath it, as if even the planet knows this thing is not welcome here.

Gu

I stare at those limbs, at the way they move — not quite awkward, not quite graceful. It walks like it doesn’t belong in a world governed by rules. It walks as if space bends to accommodate it. And yet every movement it makes carries a deliberate cruelty, like it enjoys dragging those long claws along the ground just to hear the scraping noise. Just to make me flinch.

The Black Forest air is suffocating, thick with black dust that clings to my skin, my lungs. I cough once, sharp and dry, and my hand comes away stained with blood. The thought registers somewhere in the back of my mind — this place is killing me. The dust, the cold, the absence of life. It’s pulling me apart from the inside.

And still, the creature watches. Waiting.

My breath catches as it takes a step forward, and I hear the faint crack of wood underfoot, like it’s crushing the remnants of something forgotten. My eyes dart to the ground, where I catch a glimpse of old train tracks beneath the dust — rotted and blackened, just like everything else here.

And then the creature leans closer, lowering its head slowly, bringing those red, empty eyes level with mine. I try to move — anything, just move — but my legs refuse to obey. I’m caught in its gaze, pinned by the weight of those eyes that seem to say that I don’t belong here. Not because I’ve intruded, but because this place was made to swallow people like me.

The forest feels alive with silence, as if every branch, every shadow, is holding its breath for what comes next.

The wolf-thing smiles. It’s not a real smile. It’s the twisted imitation of one, a grotesque parody of emotion that stretches its jaws too wide, revealing teeth deep inside its mouth and throat, as if to say. Run. Not because I’ll survive. But because it wants the chase. It wants me to try and fail.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I know is that I’m [Alone]. More alone than I’ve ever been, more alone than anyone should ever be. And now, there’s no way back — no way out.

I want to believe that if I run, I might find the train tracks again. That maybe they’ll lead me somewhere safe. But even that hope feels like a lie — just like everything else here. The forest swallows everything. People. Hope. Sanity.

I feel it, creeping into my mind like a parasite — the loneliness. The cold certainty that no one is coming. That I’ll die here, just like the others, just like she did. And the wolf knows it. I can see it in the way its body shifts, tensing, preparing to pounce.

Then it lunges.

I don’t see it happen — I feel it.

Something brushes my ankle, sharp claws grazing the skin just enough to make me yelp. It could’ve grabbed me. It could’ve ended this now, but it didn’t. It pulls back, letting me stumble forward like a drunk, panting and trembling. My legs feel like jelly, every nerve in my body screaming for relief.

And that’s when I realize: It wants me broken.

Not all at once. Piece by piece.

The next swipe is faster. This time, it catches the back of my leg, hooking one claw under my skin. I scream as I feel it tear — not deep enough to cripple, but enough to draw blood. Warm, sticky wetness seeps into my boot, and the pain is sharp, white-hot. I trip, face-first into the dirt, gasping and choking on dust.

It circles me again, slower now, deliberate. I try to crawl away, digging my fingers into the earth, but it lets out this strange sound — half growl, half laugh. The sound is full of mockery, like a cat batting a mouse it knows can’t escape.

Then the claws come again, dragging across the back of my arm. It pulls, and the skin tears open like wet paper. The pain blooms, spreading through my body like poison, and I hear myself whimper — pathetic and broken — but I can’t help it. I can’t stop it.

I clutch my arm, but it doesn’t matter. The damage is already done. Blood drips between my fingers, warm and slick. The beast steps closer, its red, glowing eyes burning into mine, as if to say you’re almost ready.

It leans down, snout brushing against my cheek, and I feel its hot, rancid feces breath on my skin. The claws press against my ribs — just lightly at first, teasing, as if it’s testing where to begin. Then it digs in, slow and deliberate, carving a line down my side.

The scream rips from my throat, but there’s no one to hear it. No one to help.

It pulls back just as I think I might pass out, giving me just enough time to breathe, to think — maybe, maybe it will stop —

The beast presses its muzzle against the open wound, sniffing, and I feel the wet, rough scrape of its tongue dragging across the torn flesh. I shudder violently, my body spasming.

Then comes the bite.

It isn’t quick.

It isn’t merciful.

The teeth sink slowly into my calf, precise and cruel, as if savoring every bit of muscle, every tendon it pulls apart. I thrash, kicking weakly, but it doesn’t care — it wants me to struggle. It pulls back just a little, tearing off a strip of flesh, leaving the rest of my leg to bleed. The pain is so intense, it’s almost numbing. Almost. But not quite.

It takes its time, piece by piece, layer by layer. A claw here. A bite there. Each one precise. Each one meant to hurt, but never quite enough to finish me off. Not yet. It wants me awake. It wants me awake of every moment.

I feel it pry open my fingers, one by one, with its claws. It digs beneath my nails, and peels them agonizingly slow, like unwrapping a gift. I howl in pain, thrashing, and it just watches.

I can feel my body breaking down, the world dimming at the edges. Every heartbeat weaker. My vision blurs, and all I can hear is the rhythmic thudding of my pulse — slowing, slowing. It claws at my shoulder, ripping through until my arm falls limp. My body feels less and less like my own.

The final moments are strange — almost peaceful, in a way. I’m floating somewhere between pain and numbness, my mind slipping away even as the beast tears the last pieces of me apart. I barely register the sound of my own bones snapping.

And then, just like that, it’s over.

I’m aware of one last thing before everything fades — the creature’s eyes, bright and empty, staring down. They are the last thing I see, those cold, red orbs that reflect nothing, no mercy, no remorse. Just hunger.

“And then she is gone.”

“And I am satisfied, for now.”