Chapter 4: Voices Of The Lost

Ren sprinted through the red forest, his breath sharp and controlled.

Branches whipped past his face, glowing leaves brushing his skin like hot coals.

He didn’t care.

He heard the voice again—

so faint he could barely hold onto it.

“…Ren… help… me…”

His brother’s voice.

The voice he had buried in his memory to survive each passing day.

Rai.

Ren’s heart pounded, fighting between hope and fear.

Rai… if it’s really you…

He sprinted faster.

Yoruha chased him through the twisting forest.

“REN! STOP!”

Her voice was sharp, furious, breathless.

“THE ISLAND CAN MIMIC HUMAN VOICES—DON’T LISTEN TO IT!”

Ren ignored her.

He had to.

He needed to.

The forest floor shifted under his feet, the ground pulsing again like a slow, heavy heartbeat.

Roots coiled, moving like living worms.

Some wrapped around fallen skulls in the dirt.

Some opened like mouths.

Ren leapt over them, pushing deeper into the crimson maze.

The whisper came again—stronger this time.

“…Ren… I’m here…”

He skidded to a stop.

Ahead, the trees bent inward, forming a narrow tunnel glowing with dim red light. At the end of that tunnel—

A silhouette stood.

Small.

Thin.

Familiar.

Ren’s entire world narrowed to that single shape.

“No…”

His voice cracked for the first time in years.

“Rai?”

The silhouette stepped forward.

A young boy, barefoot, shirt torn, eyes wide with grief.

His little brother.

Exactly as Ren remembered him.

Exactly as he looked the night he was taken.

Ren stepped forward with trembling hands.

“…You’re alive…?”

The boy’s eyes softened.

“Brother… I waited… I waited so long…”

Ren’s breath hitched.

He almost collapsed.

But then—

Yoruha landed beside him, sliding into a defensive stance.

“Ren. That’s NOT your brother.”

Ren’s jaw clenched.

“Yoruha, move.”

“No.”

Her voice was ice.

But the shadowed boy looked up, lips quivering.

“Ren… you promised you would protect me… but you left me alone…”

Tears fell down his cheeks.

Ren’s heart twisted painfully.

He took a step.

Yoruha grabbed his wrist.

“Ren, LISTEN! The island is using your memories. It’s forming illusions to—”

The boy suddenly froze.

His expression twisted into something wrong.

Unnatural.

Like a puppet pulled from the inside.

He smiled.

A wide, broken smile.

“Brother… play with me.”

The forest trembled.

Roots burst from the ground.

The illusion of Rai split apart—

his body tearing like paper, revealing a writhing shape beneath.

A creature unfolded itself, dripping with red sap that smelled like old memories.

It still wore Rai’s face.

But its body was a grotesque blend of roots, pale limbs, and crimson petals.

A Memory Wraith.

Yoruha drew her blade instantly.

“Ren—fall back!”

But Ren didn’t move.

He stared at the creature wearing his brother’s face, hands trembling.

“Why…”

His voice shook quietly.

“…why does the island know him?”

Yoruha’s jaw tightened.

“Because Crimson Eden devours the memories of anyone who dies here… and those who suffer the most leave the strongest ghosts.”

Ren finally exhaled, slow and deadly.

“…Then it really did take him.”

The creature lunged, screaming in a distorted, childlike cry.

Yoruha slashed upward, sharp and precise.

But Ren moved faster.

He stepped in front of her, chains rattling, and caught the creature’s arm mid-strike—

even as its wooden thorns tore into his skin.

Blood dripped down his forearm.

“Ren—!”

He didn’t blink.

He didn’t flinch.

He stared straight into the creature’s stolen face.

“You’re not Rai,” he whispered.

The creature shrieked in fury.

Ren’s expression hardened.

“And I don’t allow anyone to wear his face.”

With a burst of strength, he twisted the creature’s arm—

snapping the root-like bone—

Then slammed it into the ground.

Yoruha finished it with a clean strike, slicing its head in half.

The body twitched, then wilted like a dying flower.

Only crimson petals remained.

Silence fell.

Ren stared at the petals scattered across the dirt, breath heavy but steady.

Yoruha wiped her blade.

“Ren… I warned you.”

He didn’t respond.

She stepped closer, softer now.

“…You’re hurt.”

He glanced at the bleeding cuts on his arm.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “If you lose control because of illusions like that, you’ll die. I can’t protect you from your own memories.”

Ren closed his eyes.

“I don’t need protection.”

“Everyone does,” she murmured.

Ren’s fists tightened.

“…If the island can show me illusions of him… then somewhere inside its heart is the truth.”

He raised his eyes toward the deeper forest, where the air shimmered with red light.

“I will find him.”

Yoruha looked at him for a long moment.

“…Then I’ll keep you alive long enough to do it.”

Ren finally nodded.

The two walked deeper into the forest—

unaware that something high in the crimson canopy was watching them.

A creature with dozens of eyes.

Eyes that reflected Ren perfectly.

As they disappeared into the mist, the creature whispered in a voice not its own:

“…Ren…”