I was running into a place I had seen before, but I couldn't remember it. Something was different. The air felt thick, denser when I breathed. It felt like I was breathing underwater-my nose burned, as if water was rushing up it. The sunlight was strange too, a cold, almost harsh breeze. The water beneath my feet wasn't wet-it felt like I was touching hot sand, something that made no sense. I never thought such things could happen in real life.

But then I saw it-a crack in the sky. Not a regular tear, but something like broken glass. From the cracks, strange lights shone through, swirling like the Northern lights, but darker, more foreboding.

Blood. I looked down and saw it coming from my feet. But it wasn't liquid anymore. It was powder-like, pouring from my body in fine grains. What was happening?

The statues around me caught my attention. They were unlike anything I'd ever seen. Massive, bulky figures, made of stone, looking like they had been abandoned for centuries.

I stood at the edge of the water, staring out at the eerie expanse before me. The river gleamed unnaturally, its surface perfectly still, yet reflecting a dim, otherworldly glow beneath a sky that felt almost suffocating. The air was silent, save for the faint whisper of the wind-carrying the scent of damp earth, tinged with the metallic scent of rusted iron.

Towering ruins rose on both sides of the river, ancient and decaying. Their jagged spires clawed at the turbulent sky above. The structures were worn and broken, but they still held a certain haunting beauty, as though they had once been proud monuments of a civilization long forgotten.

The land seemed alive, its surface twisted into shapes that made no sense, as though it had been molded by hands unfamiliar with balance. Jagged rocks jutted from the earth like broken teeth, and strange carvings were etched into the ground beneath my feet. Symbols I couldn't understand, but that seemed to pulse faintly, like a heartbeat, as I stood over them.

The world was heavy-thick with the weight of time and decay. A low, humming sound vibrated through the air, distant and alien, and the sky above seemed to shift with restlessness. It was as if a storm was about to break, but it never did.

I couldn't shake the feeling that this place was watching me, its unseen gaze crawling across my skin.

I noticed that near a strange symbol, everything felt oddly normal. My blood had started flowing again, like it should, like it was supposed to. I could feel the pain in my body, but it seemed muted here.

"Ahh!" I cried out, clutching my chest. "What's happening?"

Wait, I didn't feel any pain before, not when I wasn't near the mark. I wondered what would happen if I touched it.

My fingers grazed the symbol, and a shockwave of agony ripped through me. My body began to tear apart- skin and muscle ripping, bones snapping. They flew in all directions like jagged projectiles. Blood sprayed in arcs, painting the void in crimson as my body shattered before everything went dark.

Thank God... it was just a nightmare.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat, my chest heaving as though I had been suffocating as the windows were closed. The dream clung to me-like a shadow, the black hole, the whispers, and the unbearable pain. I tried to shake it off, but then I felt it.

A searing, stabbing pain in my palm.

I flung the blanket aside and stared at my hand. My breath caught in my throat. The symbol-the same swirling black mark from the dream was burned into my skin. Its edges glowed faintly, like embers still smoldering. The pain wasn't just sharp-it was alive. It crawled through my veins, digging deeper into my flesh with every beat of my heart just like the roots of a banyan tree.

I screamed, clutching my wrist, trying to shake the agony away. But it only grew worse. It felt like my hand was on fire, the heat gnawing at my bones.

"I need to stop this," I muttered through clenched teeth, barely recognizing my own voice. My eyes darted to the knife on the nearby table. The thought hit me like lightning-I could end this. I could cut it off. Anything was better than this torment.

My trembling fingers hovered over the blade, but something deep inside whispered, This is just the beginning.

I went to my grandmother, the only parent I had left after the Quarantine that had taken our lives after the Namudo forests appeared one night. I wore my breathing mask and the eye-protecting pill that could save us from the dense breeze coming from the forest, which could cause permanent eye damage.

"Grandma, where are you? I need to show you something!"

I saw the wind again. It was green- just like the time when the Namudo forest shed its strange fruits that produced a scent like alcohol. If you breathe it, you fall into a trap in your own mind.

Grandma and I barely found a moment to rest after selling wheat and milk in the market. The air there was oppressive, cold and thick with the unnatural heaviness from the Namudo Forest. Wearing the mask all day felt suffocating, as though the very atmosphere conspired against us. Each breath through the mask was a reminder of how fragile our lives had become. It felt like we were living in a waking nightmare, with no end in sight.

Even the one thing that once brought me peace—sleep—had abandoned me. For days now, restless nights had tormented me, my dreams shattered by the haunting presence of the Namudo Forest. Ever since its fruits ripened, the strange, sickly breeze they emitted seemed to poison not just the air but my very thoughts. God, help us, I prayed silently. I don't know what will happen next, but I want us to live a better life—just a little better.

I longed to visit Kohaku village, as I once did every year. Their stone and fire art displays were a marvel, a fleeting escape from the struggles of life. But now, that joy felt like a distant memory. The war between Kohaku and Takamaghara villages, coupled with the danger the Namudo Forest brought, had made it impossible to travel. I missed my friends, the laughter, and the carefree moments we shared. Instead, my days had become a relentless cycle of exhaustion and dread. I prayed to the Almighty for a flicker of hope—for anything to break this monotony of despair.

"Where are you, Grandma?" I called out, panic creeping into my voice as I staggered into the house. My hand throbbed with an unbearable heat, as though sharp, searing irons were piercing it from every direction. "Grandma!"

I found her near the hearth, her frail figure bathed in the dim light of the dying fire. She turned toward me, her eyes soft with concern and her chicks tangled in old skin vibrated , "What's wrong, Kizuki? What happened to you?"

"Grandma, look!" I cried, thrusting my hand toward her. "This mark—it's growing! It's burning me! I can't take it anymore!" My voice cracked under the weight of the pain and fear that consumed me.

She took my hand gently, her fingers trembling as she traced the mark. Her expression softened, her lips curving into a reassuring smile. "It's alright, my child," she said, her tone calm but distant. "You've had this mark since birth. It's nothing to be afraid of."

Her words stunned me. I looked down at my hand, and to my disbelief, the mark had returned to its normal state—a faint swirl, the same as it had always been. But the searing pain still lingered in my memory, fresh and raw, as if it had just happened.

"Grandma, it's not the same!" I insisted, my voice shaking. "It was different just now—I swear it was!"

She simply patted my hand, her smile unwavering. "The mind plays tricks on us, Kizuki. Rest. You've been through a lot today."

But as I returned to my room, her words did little to comfort me. My eyes fell on the pillow where I had rested earlier. Blood. A dark stain, unmistakable and stark against the pale fabric.

I froze, that blood stained pillows shaked me from inside out just like a man falls inside a trap which he was not aware of my thoughts racing. It wasn't a dream.

I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling thinking why me ? only me ? ohh god show mercy ,My heart felt heavy, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on me.

The Namudo Forest had appeared the night I was born. My parents had perished soon after, lost to the chaos the forest unleashed. Was this mark on my hand just a coincidence, or was it tied to the strange, suffocating curse that seemed to cling to our lives?

"You never know what will harm you or benefit you," I thought, recalling Grandma's old saying. But this time, it felt different. Deep within me, something stirred—a gnawing, unrelenting sense that something was terribly wrong.

And yet, I held onto a fragile hope. I prayed for a brighter sun, a better tomorrow, and a world where nightmares no longer seeped into the cracks of reality.

My only bestfriend whom i had not seen in a while , from the kohaku village was not well with whom i lived my childhood but look at what kind of pandemic has brokeout i can't go there , i think this pandemic can be treated but the pandemic of haterated in the hearts of the villagers will not be able to go .

A couple of days earlier , a tragedy struck. Lucario Koji, a wielder of the Namudo sticks used in our bojutsu training, died,

He had inhaled too much of the green breeze from the forest. It turned his lungs into stone, and his eyes blackened like charred wood. He was too poor to afford a proper mask, and his old one had failed him. May his soul find peace.

He was a strong and kindhearted man who used to help me and grandma not accepting something from us and carry our loads in his shoulders , he used to call grandmother his own mother as she resembles his own mother , Kojisan used to treat us like his family and i didnt knew till i was a kid that he was not my blood related i used to think he was my own uncle .

kojisan had had small family of 2 daughters and a son and now they are in a big trouble seeing thier pain im feeling tge same pain as my both parents are not there with me .

i dont want to die so soon, i want to live im not feeling good about all this that has happened in our lives after the appearance of the Namudo forest .

The village head chief should address this issue, but he seems more occupied with the priest on some secret project i dont like this behaviour our life should be his first priority but no, . They claim their secret project will improve our lives but i think first he should improve his own mind and sense to give benfit to us though no details have been shared. As long as it's a secret i feel its not going to work I suppose that's all that matters for now.

The words from my dream continued to echo in my mind:

"Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real... It's not meant for you, but still for you."

I clung to a sliver of hope as I lay awake, longing for a brighter sun and a better tomorrow.