Blood slowly dripped from Isho's mouth as he stared at the dagger lodged in his chest.
"Wow… betrayed by my closest ally. It's funny, really," he said, coughing between words as he fought to stay conscious. "I was warned about you, y'know." A bitter smile played on his lips. "But I ignored them. You were like my brother."
He paused, his fading eyes narrowing as though searching for answers. "What made you do it? I've never known you to be greedy, so I doubt it was gold. Tell me, Thaddeus—what really made you betray me?"
Across from him, Thaddeus sat in a chair, his hands trembling, tears threatening to fall. He avoided Isho's gaze, as if unable to face the weight of his actions.
"I didn't want it to come to this, Isho," Thaddeus said, his voice heavy with regret. "I was always against you. I'm of royal blood—though I'm sure you already knew that. My job was always to ensure you failed."
Thaddeus swallowed hard, his voice cracking. "But I didn't expect to care for you like a brother. Despite my meddling, you kept winning, kept pushing forward. When it became clear you might actually succeed, I had to make a choice—between you and my blood family. And I chose them."
His tears flowed freely now, his voice a mixture of sorrow and desperation. "Is that so wrong, Isho? Tell me… did I make the wrong choice? I didn't think it would hurt this much."
Isho let out a dry, rasping laugh, more blood spilling from his lips. "Only you can decide that," he said weakly. "Whether it was right or wrong, you've made your bed, Thaddeus. And you know what comes next."
With great effort, Isho raised a trembling hand, smearing the blood from his mouth. His voice, though faint, carried the weight of his final request.
"My only request… don't let those bastards have my body, Thaddeus. Not even my ashes."
His hand fell limp to the ground, and he exhaled one last, shuddering breath. His eyes dimmed, his body stilled, and silence overtook the room as Isho slipped into eternal slumber.
He was greeted by pure darkness when his consciousness returned, though he couldn't feel his body.
"Huh. So this must be hell," he mused, his voice echoing in the void. "I was expecting fire and brimstone, maybe even some demons. But… total isolation forever? Yeah, that's a terrifying punishment in its own right—especially as a disembodied consciousness."
A bitter chuckle escaped him. "Now that I really think about it, how I ended up like this is more than a little unusual."
He paused, reflecting on the absurdity of his life. "The son of a carpenter, with ideals far larger than his means, assassinated by a spy from the Imperial family while leading a rebellion. What a legacy."
The thought made him laugh again, hollow and humorless. He had come so close. They had almost done it. The rebellion had nearly succeeded. The kingdom was within their grasp—their army had taken the capital city, and they were on the verge of storming the castle. Victory had been within reach.
"And then… a damned spy ruined everything. My emotions ruined everything." His tone darkened, laced with frustration and self-loathing. "I knew he was a spy. Deep down, I knew. But I convinced myself I was overthinking it."
He let out a sharp, bitter sigh, his words heavy with regret. "I made all that noise about right and wrong decisions, but in the end, I made the wrong choice. I ruined everything. Damn it."
After reflecting on everything, he realized that crying over the past wouldn't fix anything. His choices were already made, and his fate was sealed. Resigned, he simply sat in the infinite void of pure darkness, time slipping away in what felt like days—or perhaps it was mere moments.
Just as he felt his consciousness begin to fade, this time likely forever, a voice echoed all around him.
"Isho, child of Paneeha, leader of the revolution, I would like to request your services. Would you hear my offer?"
The voice was warm and affectionate, yet undeniably otherworldly. It reminded him of his mother—a comforting yet distant echo of love.
"Well, I don't exactly have much else to do, so… sure, why not, mysterious voice," Isho replied, his tone tinged with curiosity and skepticism.
A soft chuckle resonated through the void. "I am Ariaha, Goddess of Bounty, and I seek a righteous soul to serve as the new forest spirit. You seem like a reliable candidate."
"Wait… you want me?" Isho's voice rose slightly, caught between disbelief and astonishment. "And more importantly, I'm speaking to an actual goddess right now? This isn't some delusion my mind cooked up to keep me from fully fading away?"
Another gentle laugh filled the darkness. "I assure you, I am quite real. And yes, I am very much interested in offering you this role. You fought valiantly for those weaker than you, became nearly unmatched on the battlefield, and came close to defeating the Holy Aeterna Empire. It would have been a sight to behold—had a spy not bested you."
Isho felt a sudden warmth surrounding him, almost like a gentle embrace, as the goddess continued. "That is precisely why I want you to become a forest spirit—a valiant defender of the forest's bounty. There is something within this particular forest that I wish to keep from mortal hands. Of course, you can refuse my offer… but if you do, you will return to being a drifting consciousness, lost in the endless void of limbo."
"Well, I can appreciate that you admired my efforts," Isho said, his tone uncertain. "I still don't entirely get this whole thing, but I'll take your offer. It's probably better than being a lost soul. So… what exactly is my job? I get that I'm supposed to defend the forest, but that's a little vague."
Suddenly, Isho felt an intense heat surrounding him, as if the void itself had ignited. The motherly voice returned, calm yet firm. "How you defend the forest is up to you. Just don't let it die."
The warmth grew hotter, almost overwhelming, as the voice took on a more serious tone. "And above all else, never allow a mortal to touch the Heart of Creation. You will know it when you see it, but I must impress upon you: do not let any mortal lay their hands on this artifact. The fate of the world likely depends on it."
Isho felt the heat subside as the oppressive black void gradually turned to a blinding white. He could feel himself being pulled back—back to the land of the living.
"Well, that didn't make me anxious at all," he muttered sarcastically. "But hopefully, I can actually change something this time around."
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a powerful jolt surged through him. When his vision cleared, he found himself surrounded by towering trees. Beneath him lay a shallow crater, and at its center rested a small, glowing green crystal radiating an ethereal light.
"Well, that was… abrupt," he said, startled. The sound of his own voice made him freeze—it was warped, as if he were speaking underwater, the distortion reverberating unnaturally.
He walked to a nearby puddle and gazed at his reflection. His "face," if it could be called that, had no distinct features—only rough, textured tree bark. Cracks in the bark emitted a faint green glow, giving him an otherworldly presence. Instead of hair, leaves sprouted from his head, falling in a way that resembled shoulder-length hair.
The rest of his body mirrored his face—covered in tree bark with soft green light radiating from the gaps. Vines and patches of moss grew across his form, intertwining with his limbs. A sturdy branch extended from the top of his head, curving gracefully like a crown.
His fingers tapered into sharp, claw-like points, and while his body maintained male proportions, it was clear he was entirely sexless. For all intents and purposes, he resembled a walking tree—one as tall and imposing as the ancient giants of the forest.