Chapter 38:
The Wonderer of the forest
Glory of Ash
The forest was wrongng here.
Not corrupted. Not decaying. Something else. The trees were black—not burned, not rotted. The color had been pulled out of them. Left behind. Empty.
Dorn carried Harkin on his back. Harkin's leg was black to the hip. The bone had shifted again. He wasn't screaming anymore. He was just breathing.
Jorund walked ahead. His hands were black. His eyes were grey. The stain had reached his chest. He didn't speak. He hadn't spoken in days.
"Where are we?" Harkin asked.
Dorn looked at the trees. At the sky. At the fog that didn't move.
"I don't know."
---
The ground was silent.
No roots. No insects. No sound. Their footsteps didn't echo. They didn't crunch. The earth absorbed everything.
Dorn stopped.
"Something's wrong."
"Everything's wrong."
"This is different."
He was right. The air was thinner here. The light was dimmer. The stain on his arm pulsed faster.
Jorund kept walking.
"Jorund."
He didn't stop.
"Jorund!"
He turned. His eyes were grey. His face was still.
"What?"
"We need to rest."
"We need to keep moving."
"We need to rest."
Jorund looked at the trees. At the dark.
"There's no rest here."
---
They made camp against a fallen tree.
The wood was black. The bark was smooth. No moss. No lichen. Nothing living.
Harkin lay on the ground. His leg was bent wrong. He didn't scream.
Dorn sat beside him.
"You should let me carry you."
"You are carrying me."
"You should let me carry you without complaining."
Harkin almost smiled.
"I'll complain if I want."
The wound on Dorn's arm had stopped bleeding. The skin around it was grey. He didn't mention it.
---
The air shifted.
Not temperature. Not pressure. Something else. A wrongness that settled in his chest like a stone.
Dorn stood.
"Something's coming."
Harkin tried to rise. His leg buckled.
"Stay down."
"I can fight."
"You can't stand."
Harkin's jaw tightened. He didn't argue.
---
The Cragmaw stepped out from between two black trees.
Leon recognized it. Years ago. A hunt. Three hunters dead. It had looked at him then walked past. He'd never forgotten its face.
It was beautiful now. Its skin was pale, luminous, smooth as water. Its face was symmetrical—high cheekbones, full lips, eyes the color of deep water. Its hair moved without wind.
Its mouth was wrong. Too wide. When it opened, there was nothing inside. Just dark. Just absence.
It didn't walk. It flowed. Its feet didn't touch the ground.
Dorn raised his axe.
"Stay behind me."
"Where else would I go?"
---
The Cragmaw stopped.
Its head tilted. Its eyes moved. Not scanning—considering.
It looked at Dorn. Then at Harkin. Then at Jorund.
Its gaze lingered on Jorund. The grey eyes. The black hands. The stain that had reached his throat.
Dorn stepped forward.
"You don't touch him."
The Cragmaw's mouth opened. No sound came out. But the air around it grew cold.
---
Dorn swung.
His axe cut through the air. The blade should have hit. It didn't. The Cragmaw was standing three feet to the left. It hadn't moved. The space between them had simply... shifted.
"Axe," Harkin said.
"I saw."
"It didn't move."
"I saw."
---
Dorn swung again.
The Cragmaw didn't dodge. The axe passed through its shoulder like smoke. Dorn stumbled. Caught himself.
The Cragmaw's hand moved. Not fast. Not slow. Its fingers brushed Dorn's chest.
His axe fell.
His legs buckled.
He knelt.
Harkin crawled toward him. His leg dragged. "Dorn—"
Dorn's mouth opened. No sound came out. His eyes were open. He wasn't seeing.
Then his hand moved. His fingers curled around Harkin's wrist. Squeezed.
Warm.
Then cold.
His eyes went grey.
---
Harkin didn't let go.
"Dorn."
No response.
"Dorn, stay with me."
The Cragmaw watched. Its head tilted. It didn't move. It didn't need to.
"Dorn."
His hand was cold now. The grey had spread from his eyes to his face to his chest.
Harkin pressed his palm to Dorn's cheek.
"You were more than they said."
Dorn didn't hear him.
The Cragmaw took a step forward.
---
Jorund moved.
Not fast. Not slow. Just—between. He stood in front of Dorn's body. His hands were black. His eyes were grey.
"You knew me," he said.
The Cragmaw stopped.
Its eyes flickered. Something passed across its face. Recognition.
*"Once."*
"Before what?"
*"Before the hunger."*
Jorund was silent for a moment. His hands trembled. Not from fear. From something else. Something that wanted to step forward.
"Then take me."
---
Harkin grabbed his arm.
"No."
"Let go."
"You're not—"
"I'm already dead." Jorund's voice was calm. "I've been dead for days. You just didn't want to see it."
Harkin's grip tightened.
"I see it."
"Then let go."
Jorund's hand moved. Not to push Harkin away. To touch his face.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trying."
---
The Cragmaw reached out.
Its hand closed around Jorund's wrist. The stain pulsed. The grey eyes blinked.
Jorund looked at the creature.
"Before you go," he said. "Tell me something."
*"What."*
"Did you want this?"
The Cragmaw's face flickered. For a moment—just a moment—it looked almost human. Almost sad.
*"No."*
"Neither did I."
---
It pulled.
Jorund's body slid toward it. His feet dragged on the black earth. Harkin held on. His fingers slipped.
"Jorund—"
"It's all right."
"It's not."
"I know."
His hand slid free.
He walked into the dark.
The creature followed.
The trees closed behind them.
---
Harkin fell to his knees.
His hands were empty. His leg was black. His chest was burning.
Leon stood at the edge of the clearing. He'd seen this before. Years ago. The same absence. The same silence.
"You did what you could."
"It wasn't enough."
"It never is."
---
Dorn lay on the ground.
His eyes were open. His neck was bent wrong.
Harkin closed his eyes. Pressed his palm to Dorn's chest. The skin was cold.
"You were more."
No response.
"You were more than they called you."
The forest was still.
Harkin sat on the black earth. Dorn's head in his lap. His leg was numb. His hands were black.
Leon stood behind him.
"We need to move."
"In a minute."
"We don't have a minute."
Harkin looked at the trees. At the dark.
"Then we make one."
---
They buried Dorn where he fell.
No stones. No markers. Just the black earth and the silence.
Harkin stood over the grave. His leg was black to the thigh. He couldn't feel it.
He didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.
Leon waited at the edge of the clearing.
"We need to go."
Harkin nodded. Didn't move.
"Dorn's not coming back."
"I know."
"Then why are you still standing there?"
Harkin looked at the grave. At the black earth. At the place where his friend had stopped breathing.
"Because he deserved someone to stand here."
---
They walked.
The forest was still. The trees were black. The fog didn't move.
Harkin limped. Leon walked beside him.
"Your leg."
"I know."
"You're going to lose it."
"Maybe."
"And if you do?"
Harkin looked ahead. At the dark. At the gate somewhere beyond.
"Then I'll crawl."
---
Behind them, the forest was silent.
Ahead, the gate waited.
Somewhere in the dark, Jorund walked.
He didn't look back.
The creature walked beside him.
Neither spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
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