Roots of Truth

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me with every step I took. My body screamed in protest, the wound burning with every movement. I didn’t know where I was going—I had no destination, no plan. All I knew was that stopping meant giving in to the abyss clawing at my heels.

The forest twisted around me, alive and suffocating, as though it breathed with the weight of my despair. Shadows emerged from the darkness, their voices curling around me like smoke, taunting me with words I didn’t want to hear.

"Why are you still trying?"
"You don’t belong here. A painful death awaits you."
"You’ll never break free—from your past or your future."

Their whispers grew sharper, more venomous, each word slicing into me like a dagger.

"This damn second phase is feeding off your darkness. It’s disgusting."

I clenched my fists, the sharp sting of pain grounding me even as the voices tried to pull me under. My breath hitched, the question pounding in my mind.

Is this it? Is this where I fall?

***

Just as I felt the last shred of hope slipping through my fingers, it came—a voice. Soft yet unwavering, it sliced through the darkness like a thread of light, steady and clear.

"Move forward."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest. That voice... I knew it. But who was it? It wasn’t Riri, and it certainly wasn’t Master.

"Who’s there?" I called out, my voice trembling, barely a whisper in the stillness.

No answer. The forest swallowed my words whole, leaving only an eerie silence. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A faint glow. At first, I thought it was just a trick of my mind, an illusion born from the depths of my unraveling soul. But the light... it grew. Brighter, pulsing, multiplying.

Butterflies. Glowing, golden butterflies.

They materialized from the shadows, their soft glow cutting through the oppressive darkness. They fluttered around me, their movements both graceful and purposeful, like they were trying to guide me, to show me the way.

I reached out instinctively, my fingers brushing against one of them. A rush of warmth spread through my hand—gentle, reassuring. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to remind me that I wasn’t truly alone. Enough to take a step forward.

The butterflies fluttered ahead, forming a trail of light in the darkness. I followed them, each step feeling lighter, as if their glow was lifting the weight of my memories. The whispers in the shadows faded, replaced by a strange, calming stillness.

Finally, they led me to a clearing, and there it stood—a massive, lifeless tree. Its blackened bark twisted upwards, its branches bare and jagged like claws reaching for a sky that wasn’t there.

I stopped, staring at the tree. My breath caught in my throat.

“What… is this place?” I whispered to no one in particular.

The butterflies swirled around the tree, their glowing forms spiraling upward before fading into nothingness. I was left alone with the tree, its silent presence heavy, yet… familiar.

I stepped closer, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. Each movement felt heavier than the last, but something inside urged me to press on. Reaching out, I placed my hand against the cold, rough bark. The moment my skin made contact, a flood of memories hit me—my failures, my victories, my pain, and my fleeting moments of hope. Everything I had fought for. Everything I was terrified to lose.

I took a shaky breath.

“This wasn’t just a dead tree.” I said to myself. I knew that this tree was my task the moment I reached it.

I pressed my forehead to the rough bark, the coldness seeping through me. “You’re dying, huh? All alone.” My voice cracked as I spoke, the words more for me than the tree, as if confessing my own fears to something that understood.

Then, the dying tree spoke to me in a low and haggard voice. “You came... I've been waiting for a long time.”

I froze, my breath caught in my throat. The voice wasn’t just a whisper of wind or a trick of my mind—it was real, raw, and full of a weariness that seemed to stretch across ages.

“Waiting for me?” Why is it that almost everyone here is waiting for me? Demons, now trees… What did a sports teacher do to deserve this? I shook my head, the absurdity of it all crashing over me like a wave.

“Please… tell me,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse with desperation. “Who am I? Why do all of you wait for me? Why was I reborn into this world?” The weight of my questions felt unbearable, and I needed answers. I couldn’t continue on, not without understanding what was happening, what role I was meant to play in this twisted, suffocating world.

“I was just trying to be free,” I murmured, my voice cracking. “So, I became a witch... and suddenly, everyone keeps saying they’ve been waiting for me. Am I destined to be a witch? Will I die again, like before?”

The weight of it all crashed down on me, and before I could stop it, tears began to fall. The burden, the uncertainty, the endless cycle of life and death—it all felt too much to bear. I didn’t know how much longer I could carry it.

The tree's voice deepened, a low murmur that seemed to come from the very core of the earth. “You are not reincarnated,” it said, the words laced with a weight of truth. “You are meant to be here. You merely left, for a time, and now... you have returned.”

I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine, my mind racing to make sense of its words. “What do you mean?” I whispered, my voice trembling as I stepped back slightly, my mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what the tree was saying.

The tree’s branches creaked softly, as if it were gathering its ancient strength to continue. But then, silence stretched between us, the world holding its breath. The air grew still, and for a moment, I wondered if I had misunderstood—if I had misheard the words that had rattled the very foundation of my being.

I waited, heart pounding, afraid to move, afraid that if I did, the truth would slip away and leave me in the same endless void of uncertainty.

But the tree didn’t speak again.