Night settled deep into the forest, bringing with it a symphony of unfamiliar sounds that prickled at Riven's senses. He sat with his back against the rough bark, legs stretched out along the massive branch, sword within easy reach. The darkness around them was nearly complete, broken only by thin shafts of starlight filtering through the blood-red canopy above.

  But the darkness wasn't silent—far from it. The forest lived and breathed in ways the barren plains never had.

  Riven tilted his head, cataloging each new sound. Wood cracked and popped as branches settled. Leaves rustled in the gentle night breeze. But beneath these ordinary forest noises lurked others—stranger, more unsettling sounds that had no clear source. Something chittered from the shadows below, high-pitched and insistent. From somewhere distant came a low, mournful call that might have been an animal or something else entirely. Occasionally, the forest floor would emit soft squelching sounds, as if the earth itself were shifting and breathing.

  The black tactical suit he'd salvaged from the battlefield hugged his body like a second skin, providing unexpected comfort. Unlike his previous rags, this outfit actually retained heat, surrounding him in a cocoon of warmth despite the chill night air. No more shivering until dawn. No more huddling for warmth like a half-starved animal. It was a small luxury, but one that felt profound after weeks of discomfort.

  Two hours had passed since Lya and Aron had fallen asleep. Lya lay curled beneath her green cape, her breathing deep and even. Aron's massive form sprawled nearby, his chest rising and falling with soft snores that occasionally punctuated the night sounds.

  Riven watched their sleeping forms in the darkness. How could they just... sleep? Just close their eyes and trust that nothing would go wrong?

  Naive. They're both naive.

  But even as the thought formed, another followed, unbidden:

  You trusted Lya. Despite yourself, you did.

  He frowned. That was different, though. Wasn't it?

  Lya had never been a threat. From the moment he'd met her, something in his gut had recognized it—she was soft, gentle, incapable of real malice. She healed things. She genuinely cared about people even when it was stupid to do so. It was almost annoying how transparently good she was.

  And Aron... Aron was too straightforward, too earnest. The giant wore every emotion on his face like a child. No calculation, no hidden agenda. Just blunt honesty wrapped in muscle.

  But Elea? She was none of those things. She was cold, calculating, and had already put a blade to his throat once. Trusting her to keep watch while he slept?

  That would be genuinely naive.

  His gaze drifted upward through the canopy. The red leaves turned the starlight strange, casting everything in faint crimson hues. It was beautiful in its alien way, utterly unlike anything in his memory.

  A forest. A real forest.

  He'd heard descriptions from others during his captivity. But experiencing one firsthand—the smells of growth and decay, the constant subtle movements, the sense of life surrounding him—was something else entirely.

  Despite his wariness, a spark of genuine wonder kindled inside him. How many other ordinary things had he never truly experienced? What else lay beyond this forest that others took for granted but would be new to him?

  He was like a child discovering the world for the first time. So much to see, to understand, to explore. The thought excited him despite everything.

  But first, he had to survive this hell. And unfortunately, he had no idea how.

  He'd been avoiding thinking about it too much—refusing to let the questions take root. But they pressed in anyway, especially in the quiet moments like this.

  He'd started surrounding himself with people who knew more than he did. Aron and Lya both had knowledge he lacked, experience in a world he'd never been part of. And Elea clearly knew even more, though she hoarded information like it was currency.

  Yet none of them seemed to know where they were. How to leave. Anything useful at all.

  Is there even a way out?

  The question sat cold in his chest. He didn't even know how Climbers were supposed to finish normal Ascensions. Lya had mentioned trials, but what did that actually mean? Survival in general? Because if so, he'd been in the middle of a trial for a while now. So what was he supposed to be looking for? An exit door? A key? Some kind of objective?

  He had no fucking clue.

  It's been over a month since we landed here. And we don't know anything more than we did at the start.

  They just kept walking. Kept fighting. With no direction, no plan, no endpoint in sight. Just moving forward because stopping meant dying.

  What if there was nothing? What if all of this was meaningless—just suffering with no purpose, no escape? What if they were all destined to die here no matter how hard they fought?

  His jaw clenched. His hands tightened into fists.

  No.

  He wouldn't think about that. Wouldn't let himself believe it.

  There had to be a way out. There had to be. They'd find it eventually. He'd find it.

  And he'd get out of this hell, one way or another.

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  Even if that meant working alongside a woman who'd held a blade to his throat hours ago.

  His eyes kept wandering to the spot where Elea sat, perched on a branch slightly above and to his right. He couldn't see her in the darkness—not even the outline of her slender form against the night sky. The woman had been utterly silent since their brief exchange hours ago. No rustling of fabric, no shifting of weight, no whisper of breath. If not for his certainty that she remained there, he might have thought she'd vanished completely.

  Is she even awake? Or did Ice Princess decide to sleep on watch duty?

  The thought irritated him more than it should have. He squinted into the darkness, trying to make out any hint of her presence, but found nothing. The spot where she'd been sitting was a void, a perfect absence against the night.

  Fine. If his eyes wouldn't work, he had other options.

  Riven closed his eyes, focusing inward. His perception spread through the space around him, capturing the larger forms. His Spatial Eyes added a layer of awareness his normal vision couldn't provide in the darkness—his companions' shapes defining themselves clearly. Lya lay curled beneath her cape, her face turned away, green hair falling across her eyes. Aron's bulk sprawled nearby, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of deep sleep, one hand resting on his torso with his pinky finger tapping idly against his ribs.

  Both completely out.

  But he didn't care about any of that.

  There she was. Elea remained seated against the trunk, her posture surprisingly similar to his own. Her head rested against the bark, sword laid across her lap with one hand resting on its hilt. Her eyes were open, staring into the middle distance, unfocused.

  She hadn't slept either.

  So she doesn't trust us any more than I trust her.

  As Riven observed her, he felt a subtle shift in her posture. Her head turned, face angling directly toward him with sudden precision. The motion was so deliberate it sent a chill across his skin.

  "What are you doing?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet cut through the darkness with crystal clarity.

  Riven blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He hadn't made a sound, hadn't moved. How had she known he was watching her?

  "What do you mean?" he replied, keeping his voice equally low.

  "You know your pupils are glowing brighter than before." Elea said from above.

  Riven had forgotten that particular side effect of his power—the violet glow that intensified whenever he used his Spatial Eyes. In the perfect darkness, his eyes must have been like beacons, announcing his surveillance.

  "And?"

  Silence stretched between them, long enough that he wondered if she would respond at all. Finally, a single word drifted down from above: "Nothing… just an observation."

  The conversation, such as it was, ended as abruptly as it had begun. Riven maintained his Spatial Eyes for a moment longer, noting that Elea had returned to her original position, her gaze once more directed outward rather than toward him.

  He released his Spatial Eyes, letting the perception fade. But he kept his Koras active, circulating it slowly through his body in controlled pulses. If he wasn't going to sleep, he could at least practice.

  The night would be long—better to spend it learning than just waiting.

  Hours passed in silence.

  The first rays of dawn pierced through the blood-red leaves, casting dappled crimson light across their makeshift shelter. Riven watched the gradual illumination spread across the wooden platform, tracking the slow retreat of shadows. He hadn't slept—not even for a moment. His back ached from sitting upright through the night, but his mind remained clear and alert, a skill honed through years of necessity. Above him, Elea remained equally vigilant, her silhouette becoming more defined as darkness yielded to morning light.

  He found a grim satisfaction in the realization. At least she wasn't naive. Stupidity could be more dangerous than malice in this place.

  Riven stood and stretched, feeling his spine pop in several places. He rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness, then turned his attention to his still-sleeping companions.

  "Get up," he said, nudging Lya's shoulder with his boot. "Sun's up."

  Lya stirred reluctantly, her face emerging from beneath her green cape with a sleepy frown. Aron was quicker to wake, his golden eyes snapping open at the first word. The giant pushed himself upright in one fluid motion, seemingly unaffected by a night spent on hard wood.

  "Time to move?" Aron asked, already reaching for his spear.

  Riven nodded. "Yeah."

  From her perch, Elea descended in a controlled slide, landing on their platform. Her silver hair caught the morning light, gleaming like polished metal against the darkness of her midnight-blue bodysuit. She moved to where her armor pieces lay, methodically beginning to attach them over her base layer.

  "So," Lya said through a yawn as she folded her cape, "which way are we headed now?"

  Aron looked to Riven. "We should follow the map, right?"

  "Not possible." Riven crossed his arms. "The map stops at the forest's edge. We're beyond its boundaries now."

  Lya sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "So we're back to wandering without direction."

  Riven nodded, checking the placement of his sword for easy access.

  While the others finished their preparations, Riven watched the forest below their shelter. In daylight, the alien quality of the environment became even more pronounced. Trunks of trees stretched skyward, their bark varying between shades of deep purple and brown. The leaves above them ranged from blood-red to a pink so deep it bordered on violet, creating a perpetual sunset-like glow beneath the canopy.

  Aron secured his food supply, tying the remaining meat into a bundle with practiced efficiency. Riven noted that the pile had indeed diminished overnight—at least a third smaller than the previous evening. The giant hoisted it onto his shoulder with little apparent effort, adjusting the makeshift straps to distribute the weight.

  Lya splashed water from their flask onto her face, the droplets catching light as they fell from her skin. She blinked rapidly, chasing away the lingering fog of sleep. With quick, deft movements, she gathered her few possessions and secured them in the small bag at her hip.

  Meanwhile, Elea continued assembling her armor in methodical silence. Each silver plate clicked into place with precision, the pieces fitting together like a puzzle to form a seamless protective shell. The crown emblem on her breastplate gleamed as she attached it last, completing the transformation from vulnerable sleeper to armored warrior.

  When they were ready, they descended from the tree one by one—Riven first, then Lya, Elea, and finally Aron managing despite his burden.

  They fell into formation naturally: Riven and Elea at the front, weapons ready. Lya in the middle. Aron bringing up the rear.

  The forest was unlike anything Riven had imagined. Trees grew from each other in bizarre configurations, glowing fungi clung to bark, and the undergrowth shifted between firm soil and spongy moss that released iridescent spores. The colors were vivid—crimson, violet, deep indigo, emerald green, and fuchsia—with occasional golden flowers that glowed like the tunnel buds.

  Navigation proved challenging. The dense vegetation limited visibility to twenty meters at most, often less. Paths that appeared clear would suddenly end at thickets of thorny undergrowth, forcing them to backtrack and find another route. Adding to the difficulty, certain plants seemed to react to their presence—shrinking away or, more alarmingly, reaching toward them with tendril-like appendages.

  "Watch those," Riven warned, pointing to a cluster of innocent-looking purple flowers that had suddenly extended filaments in Lya's direction when she passed too close.

  The forest floor gradually sloped downward as they progressed deeper into the unknown territory. With each step, the vegetation grew thicker, the canopy overhead more dense. Riven found himself constantly adjusting their course, seeking paths of least resistance while trying to maintain a consistent direction.

  Without the map's guidance, he could only hope they were moving toward something rather than endlessly circling. The thought of being lost in this alien forest, beautiful as it was, sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with temperature.