### Chapter 14: The Truth Unraveled
*Trill's Point of View*
Trill's blood burned with a hot, furious rage. He could feel the anger surging through his veins, his body trembling with the need to confront her, to demand answers.
Bren.
She had appeared from the shadows, almost like a mirage—silent, hidden in the forest's dark embrace. But he had seen her. He had felt her presence. His heart had skipped a beat at the sight of her, but then it had sunk into the pit of his stomach.
She had run. Again.
And now she was back, standing before him, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just abandoned him to face the corrupted satyr alone. As if she hadn't turned her back on him the moment danger showed its teeth.
Trill's grip tightened on his sword's hilt, the sharp metal biting into his palm. His breaths came in shallow, angry gasps.
"Why, Bren?" His voice cracked like a whip in the tense silence, carrying the weight of all his frustration. "Why did you leave me?"
She stood motionless, her back to him, her posture stiff, her head low. She hadn't even looked up at him. The faintest shiver of uncertainty passed through her, but she remained still.
"Bren…" Trill's voice softened slightly, but the anger still lingered in his tone. "You don't get to walk away from this. Not this time."
Her shoulders tensed, and slowly, she turned to face him. Her eyes were shadowed, unreadable, like a reflection in murky water.
"I didn't leave you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I couldn't save you."
"Then why didn't you save yourself?" Trill shot back, his voice harsh. "You could've saved us both, but you chose to run. Again."
Bren flinched, her eyes flickering with something akin to pain, but she quickly masked it. She took a step back, as if putting distance between them.
"Please," she said, her voice trembling with unspoken emotion. "You don't understand."
But Trill couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the lies, the half-truths, the mysteries she kept locked away behind those guarded eyes. He needed answers, and he needed them now.
"Then make me understand." Trill's voice was razor-sharp as he took a step forward, his gaze never leaving her. "Make me understand why you always keep running. Why you couldn't save me when you had the chance. Why you always leave when things get hard."
Bren's jaw clenched, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between them, the tension thick in the air. She looked away, as though unwilling to meet his gaze. But then, a strange flicker of something passed over her face—something almost like regret.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
"Enough," Bren said, her voice hardening. "I don't owe you an explanation. I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for your pity."
Trill felt his blood boil at her words, the words that stung like a slap across his face.
"You're a liar."
The words left him before he could stop them, and they hit her with all the force of a hammer blow. Bren's eyes flashed with a mix of defiance and pain, but Trill couldn't stop himself.
"If you think I'm going to just sit here and listen to your excuses—"
"Enough!" she spat, her voice suddenly harsh. Her eyes burned with an intensity he hadn't seen before. "You think I don't want to fix things? You think I want this? You think I want to be the one who always has to run?"
Trill froze, the weight of her words landing on him like a ton of bricks.
"I'm not like you," she continued, her voice quieter now, but no less forceful. "I don't get to choose. I don't get to stay and fight. I don't get to have the luxury of facing my demons like you do."
Trill's breath caught in his throat, the tension between them thickening. There was something raw in Bren's voice, something desperate. But he couldn't back down now. He needed answers.
He needed to know.
"I've had enough of this." Trill's hand fell to his waist, fingers brushing over the smooth surface of his alchemy pouch. He pulled out the small vial of spores with a grim expression. He had been waiting for the right moment, and now that moment had arrived.
Bren's eyes widened when she saw the vial. She took a half-step back, but Trill's eyes remained locked on her, unwavering.
"No more games," Trill said. "If you won't tell me, I'll make you."
Without waiting for her response, he cracked open the vial and poured the contents into the air—spores from the Truth Shroom, a rare and potent fungus capable of forcing anyone who inhaled it to reveal the deepest, most hidden parts of their soul. It was an old trick, one that he had learned in his years as an assassin, but it never failed.
The spores floated in the air between them, thick and pungent. Bren's eyes widened in recognition, but it was too late. The spores drifted toward her, and before she could react, they hit her.
Her breath hitched. Her body jerked, and for a split second, she looked as if she might collapse. Then, with a violent gasp, she inhaled deeply, her body trembling as the spores took hold.
A suffocating wave of heat surged through her, but it wasn't physical. It was mental, an overwhelming tide of vivid hallucinations that struck her with brutal clarity.
She staggered backward, her eyes wide with terror.
"No…" Her voice cracked as she reached out, but the hallucinations consumed her, pulling her into a web of memories—memories of fire, of destruction, of a life lost to the flames.
Her village—her family—burning.
The cloaked figure standing in the shadows, watching as everything was destroyed.
The magma rising from her hands, uncontrollable, destructive.
"Make it stop…" she whispered, her voice broken.
Trill's heart twisted as he watched her struggle, her body convulsing, wracked with the pain of the memories she had long buried. He felt a pang of guilt for forcing her to face them, but he couldn't stop now. He needed answers. He needed to know why.
"Tell me why," he demanded, his voice low and fierce. "Why did you leave me? Why didn't you stay?"
Bren collapsed to her knees, her hands shaking as she clutched at the ground, fighting to regain control. The Truth Shroom's spores continued to work their magic, drawing out the truth, whether she wanted to share it or not.
"I… I couldn't control it." Her voice was barely audible, a whisper lost beneath the weight of her own fear. "I couldn't stop the fire. I thought I'd hurt you. I thought I'd burn everything I touched."
Trill's grip on his sword loosened as the truth spilled from her, raw and fragile. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and shame.
"I thought if I left… if I ran… I could protect you from me."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut.
But just as Trill was about to speak, to reach out to her, a loud, guttural roar echoed through the forest.
The shadows in the trees shifted again.
The cloaked figure was not done yet.
---
**To be continued...**