The same year, Four months later. The Southernmost Kingdom, "Etree".
North of the kingdom Etree lies the Kingdom's smallest village, "Woodmen".
The village was said to be established by wood cutters when they cut down all the trees. Thus the village got the name "Woodmen".
The woodmen village has its own forest which is vastly larger than the village itself.
The villagers fear this forest as " Yanaha".
In the one edge of the forest beneath banana leaves stiff with frost, a man of early 20s awakens.He stretches and yawns like someone roused from a deep, unnatural sleep.
Then the cold hits him.
Violently.
He begins to shiver, realizing he is naked. Hastily, he gathers the banana leaves around himself. At first he just sat there in a curve position beneath the banana leaves. Everything around him was on the other side of the thick fog. Still somehow the thick dark brown stems of the oak trees made it to his eyes.
The cold was unbearable for someone who was naked and beneath the dew wet banana leaves. He couldn't stop shivering and shaking.
It was a hard decision still he decided to get up.
He didn't let go of those leaves, using them as a shawl he starts to walk. The forest was coloured in white and direction was meaningless. Every step forward in the fog offered him a new world and his back faced the same old thick fog.
He wanders aimlessly, disoriented and shivering with each step until he spots a pile of clothes nearby.
He rushes to them and pulls on everything he can find—five layers, mismatched and oversized clothes and a green shawl to cover his head.
The clothes were super smelly but at least he felt a lot warmer now.
He began his wandering. That's when he heard water.
A small stream glints between frosted banks, its edges already fringed with clear, brittle ice.
He kneels and submerges his head, drinking desperately. He drinks until his lungs burn.
When he finally pulls back, tears fill his eyes. His breathing sharpens, then slowly steadies. He sinks down where the stream breathes its warmth into the air. Drawing one leg up, he presses his forehead to his knee and lets the sounds wash over him: the gentle rush of water, the soft hiss of settling snow.
After a long while, he rises and walks.
No matter how much he walked, it was fog and trees everywhere. Then, something forces him to stop.
A corpse lay before him. It was a thing of three absences: sight, footing, and its own skin—replaced by a ghastly crimson shroud.
The sight horrified him. His eyes widened. His body froze. A single, hot tear broke free and traced a path through the grime on his cheek. As he looks around, he sees more—five shapes hung like rotten fruit from the low, skeletal branches of the surrounding pines. A woman. Three small, terrible silhouettes—children. A man. All naked and violated in the same way: sightless, soleless, painted in that same grotesque rust-red.
Something stirs inside him—dark and overwhelming— and the world blurred into a smear of white fog and dark tree trunks as he ran.
And when he stopped, his body began shivering — not with cold but because of what he just saw.
Amid the tension
From within the fog, a voice calls out.
"Hey! You—stop! Hey, green man ".
But he didn't heared them. His legs carry him blindly forward, until horsemen burst through the fog. Four knights, fully armored—the knights of Etree.
They did not question him instead they seize him instantly and carry him away.
Village Henbane
The village henbane is the eastern neighbours of village woodmen. Slightly larger than it and beautiful with hills.
Atop a small hill, a single isolated monastery sits among trees.
Hemar, a subordinate of the Village chief, was here to deliver the chief's message.
He saw some boys and girls in their teens gathered outside the door.
"Again". He murmured to himself.
Hemar opened the door and went inside.
Meanwhile inside the monastery , Knoudi, a man in his 30s, counsels a boy.
"Don't lie or something very bad will happen to you if you lie. Do you know anything about 'Brain worm'? the test you're here for ?"
The kid replied in an instant," No".
Knoudi ordered. "Fine. You pass. Come again in 2 days". He gave the kid a bottle.
" Consume this in equal portion in these two days. And remember to maintain less interaction possible with peoples and don't listen to anything related to Brain worms. If you do, you'll fail and bad things will happen".
The kid agreed and left.
Hemar walked past the small Hall to another room. He uncovered a carpet revealing a door that goes beneath.
The monastery was just a counseling house— for the unknowns. As the real truth happens beneath the house—underground.
A boy somewhere in his teens , bald and fully naked sits on a comfortable straw bed. Beside him was an empty cup.
The boy wasnt moving a bit. Neither was he blinking even once. Even his breath felt careful and calculated for his focus was on a doll, just 5 steps away from him.
A saint watches him from the door with dreadful determination and tiny bit of hope.
Then, something happened. His skin of his head, they flinched. It was painful as he bite his teeth, shranked his eye and clenched his fists to tolerate thr pain.
The phenomenon was clearly viisble to the saint.
The boy's teeth still struggling with each other's and his gaze still in the doll.
Then it happened.
The doll moved.
But the boy didn't stop there. His eyes still catching the doll . He didn't break his focus.
His foreskin of his head now started to vibrate like a drum does when bitten.
The saint starts to shake.
The boy's nose and gums started bleeding.
And,
Everything was pitch black for him in an instant.
He collapsed.
The saint jammed in his place as he watches the boy's body as it gets cold.
His eyes were his first realization, that the boy wasnt breathing anymore.
While the saint was drowning in sorrow, Hemar climbed down the stairs .
It was silent for a moment. Hemar couldn't properly process what he was seeing again. It made him disappointed.
"Look at him. Cold and breathless— as those dozens. You should be ashamed of yourself, Saint Gizon". And he left frustrated.
Hemar's word strucked the old saint like a hammer. He jerked from his contemplation.
He was ashamed and fearful. He didn't spoke . He succumbed to Hemur's words.
Just when he finally intended to return upstairs the saint noticed a letter pinned to the wall by hemar .
And,
The reading wasn't fun at all. And he weakly climbs up the stairs with his shaky legs and leaves the unfortunate behind.
Meanwhile in the Woodmen,
The fog thins gradually, retreating like a living thing revealing two wide rivers that carve the land apart, their currents slow and dark.
The green man tied to the saddle convulses. His eyes rolled back. His face turns a deep, unhealthy red. Thick saliva spills from his mouth and drips onto the snow.
One of the knights notices.
"Stop," he yells.
The others rein in their horses.
"What is it, Ger?" one asks.
Ger dismounts and steps closer. He grips the man by the hair and forces his head up so the others can see the foam at his mouth.
"He's choking," Ger says. "Or worse."
They exchange uneasy looks.
"He's about to die," one mutters.
Another knight shifts back in his saddle. "Get away from him. If he's sick, you'll catch it. Forest filth carries all kinds of rot."
The word rot hangs in the air.
The knights instinctively create distance.
Ger hesitates, then draws his blade and cuts the rope. The man collapses onto the frozen ground,gasping weakly. His shawl fall onto the river's bank.
"What now?" Ger asks. "Rahr. Suynk. Ebora."
Ebora answers first, voice flat.
"First—don't touch him. It's look like a devil's doing.
Suynuk " It makes sense. After all that forest inhabits devils and without the protection, anyone who enters is damned to rotting. Like this fellow ".
Rahr scans the rivers, the fog, the empty land. "No one saw him except us."
Suynk snorts. "Then let him die here, he will just infect others. "
Ger frowns. "This forest is forbiddem . No civilians wander here. How did he even enter it?"
Suynk shrugs. "Looking at him, he won't speak. Even if he could."
He smirks faintly. "Unless we could see his soul and ask it ourselves."
A dry chuckle escapes him.
But,
No one laughs.
Ebora exhales slowly. " He violated the laws and entered the forest. But we take him nowhere & We report nothing. If he lives, the devil shall claim him. If he dies—" He gestures vaguely at the river and sky. "The rivers will carry it away and vultures will feast."
Ger looks down at the man, then back at the others.
"…Fine."
They mount their horses.
Without another word, the knights ride off, armor fading into mist.
After
Eventually, the man's breathing slows. His eyes flutter, then open.
He stares upward, unfocused, then slowly turns his head.
Water. Two rivers.
The sight terrifies him. He forced his eyes close and ear with his hands and sat still.
"Motherrr…" he screams, voice hoarse and cracking. "Mother!"
His voice echoes between the banks and returns to him empty.
Lot of time passed but still the fear glued him to that ground.
Sometimes later he tried to slowly opened his eyes, only to instinctly close them again. He tried it again and again. Many attempt but the result was same —his eyes remains shut.
But he didn't even tried to let go of his hands from ears.
It was like the sound of those rivers were scratching something old engraved deep within his Soul.
After few more trials he finally was able to withstand the sight of the two mighty rivers.
His hands still attached to his ears, he took a good look of the surrounding turning around.
He finally let's his ear free. The sight and sound was overwhelming for him. His heart couldn't stop beating aloud and faster. But he bite his teeth and maintained his composure.
And somehow he won—barely. And he was also able to stand tall and capable.
The sun stands high overhead. The vultures were in the sky and the fog has almost completely lifted. He drags himself to the river's edge pick his shawl that was partially wet and stared at his reflection—dark eyes, dirt-smeared face, someone unfamiliar staring back. "Me" ?
He reaches for his face — so did the reflection. He kept staring at the reflection and got lost deep within not knowing his hands were touching the reflection, the moment he touched the reflection he jerks his hand away.
"
Too cold."
He brushes off the weird thoughts and
Slowly, carefully, he wets his hand and rubs his face clean. Then he stands. Covers his head with the shawl and begin to walk aimlessly— at least somewhere far from the two rivers.