The forest always woke before the sun.
Nathan stirred in his small shelter, a crude structure of branches and leaves built into the hollow of a large tree. It wasn't much, but it kept the worst of the rain and wind off his fur, and in a forest like this, that was enough. He stretched, his claws lightly scraping against the rough bark of the tree as he blinked into the soft green glow of pre-dawn.
The forest was never truly silent, but mornings brought a peculiar kind of stillness. Birds chirped faintly in the canopy, and somewhere in the distance, a stream gurgled over rocks. Yet beneath these familiar sounds was a hum—a faint, almost imperceptible vibration that Nathan had come to associate with the forest's magic.
He grabbed his bag and stepped out into the clearing. His feet crunched lightly on the moss-covered ground, his ears twitching as they caught the faint rustle of something moving nearby. A deer, perhaps, or one of the smaller, less hostile creatures that still roamed this cursed place.
But Nathan didn't have time to hunt this morning. The forest demanded more of him than that.
He raised his hand, summoning a flicker of magic. Frost formed on his fingertips, spreading outward like veins of ice as he focused. He muttered a quiet incantation under his breath, and the frost coalesced into a thin, sharp shard of ice. He drove it into the ground at the base of the tree.
The shard glowed faintly, its magic spreading out in a protective ring.
"That should hold for another day," Nathan murmured to himself, though his tone was anything but certain.
The forest's corruption wasn't just in its creatures; it was in the land itself. The air was thick with it, the soil steeped in it. Even the rivers carried an eerie, unnatural glow. Over the years, Nathan had learned to suppress it—at least in the small areas he frequented—but the effort was exhausting, and the corruption always found a way to seep back in.
He turned his attention to the river. Today, he needed fish.
Nathan walked silently, his movements practiced and fluid. He had long since learned the rhythms of the forest: when to move, when to wait, and when to fight. The river came into view, its waters clearer than most, though the faint shimmer of magic still swirled beneath its surface.
He crouched at the bank, his hands moving in a slow, deliberate pattern as he cast another spell. The water near his feet froze instantly, forming a thin sheet of ice. Beneath it, several fish were trapped mid-swim, their bodies suspended in the crystalline trap. Nathan reached down, breaking the ice carefully to extract his catch.
"Three today," he muttered, inspecting the fish. They were small, but they'd be enough.
As he worked, his thoughts wandered.
The forest had been his prison for a decade now, though it had never felt like a true home. It was survival, pure and simple—a constant game of adapting, of learning which creatures to avoid and which ones to kill. He thought back to his arrival, the day the tear had spat him out into this alien world. He had been broken, confused, and scared.
Nathan frowned, shaking his head as he tossed the fish into his bag. The past wasn't worth dwelling on. Not when the present demanded so much of him.
Still, the memories lingered, uninvited.
The first few months had been the hardest. He hadn't understood the forest's dangers, hadn't known which plants were edible or which creatures would kill him on sight. He had barely survived, his body constantly on the brink of collapse. It wasn't until the magic had awakened in him that he'd found a way to fight back.
Even now, a decade later, he didn't fully understand it. The magic felt both foreign and intrinsic, as if it had been etched into his very bones. It came naturally to him, but its strength was unpredictable, its limits unclear.
Nathan pulled himself out of his thoughts and stood, slinging the bag over his shoulder.
The forest wasn't kind to those who lingered.
A Hunter's Challenge
The walk back to his shelter was uneventful until he caught sight of movement in the underbrush. His ears twitched, his body going still as he scanned the trees. A low growl rumbled from the shadows, and Nathan sighed.
"Not today," he muttered, reaching for the dagger strapped to his belt.
The creature stepped into view—a wolf, though its body was twisted and wrong. Its fur bristled with jagged black spikes, and its eyes glowed a sickly green. The corruption had claimed this one long ago, turning it into a mindless predator.
The wolf snarled, its body crouching low as it prepared to strike. Nathan didn't wait.
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a spear of ice, its surface glinting in the morning light. The wolf lunged, but Nathan sidestepped easily, driving the spear into its side. The creature yelped, its movements slowing as frost spread through its body, freezing it from the inside out.
It collapsed in a heap, steam rising from its lifeless form.
Nathan knelt beside the body, his expression grim. "You didn't ask for this, did you?" he murmured.
He had seen too many creatures like this over the years—animals twisted into monstrosities by the forest's corruption. He hated killing them, but there was no saving them. Not anymore.
After a moment, he rose and continued on his way.
A Fragile Balance
By the time Nathan returned to his shelter, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting dappled light through the trees. He sat by the fire pit, carefully cleaning the fish he had caught.
As he worked, his mind returned to the girl from the day before—Lyra.
She had been lucky. If he hadn't been nearby, the pig-like creature would have killed her without hesitation. But what struck him most wasn't the danger she had faced—it was her reaction to him.
Nathan was used to fear. Most humans recoiled at the sight of him, their eyes filled with disgust or suspicion. But Lyra had been different. She had been frightened, yes, but there had been something else in her gaze. Curiosity. Maybe even trust.
He shook his head, setting the cleaned fish aside. It didn't matter. He had done what he could for her, and now she was someone else's problem.
Nathan leaned back against the tree, staring up at the canopy above. The forest loomed over him, vast and unyielding. Its magic whispered in the wind, a constant reminder of the tear that had brought him here.