All I Want is to be Broken Too

The forest grew darker as the spirit, Sylra, moved, the once-familiar stillness replaced by an uneasy rhythm that seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the ground, their edges flickering as if alive, and the air felt thick, almost oppressive.
Its glow pulsed faintly, dimmed by the weight of the forest's silence but still steady enough to push forward. There was no choice but to move. The pull—a whisper that gnawed at its awareness—drew it deeper into the twisting expanse of trees and roots.
The Spirit floated onward, its faint light casting wavering patterns on the gnarled roots beneath it. The hum in the air grew louder, no longer just a rhythm but something layered, intricate. It wasn't just sound—it felt alive, threading through the forest like a living presence.
As it passed beneath a massive tree, its branches clawing the sky like skeletal fingers, the spirit paused. The hum shifted, reverberating in a way that made its core tremble. This place was different.
The shadows around the tree seemed to move independently of the faint light, curling and writhing like smoke caught in an unseen breeze. The spirit hesitated, its glow faltering. For the first time, the pull it had been following felt less like a guide and more like a lure.
But it couldn't stop.
Sylra floated closer, cautiously circling the tree's massive trunk. As it neared, the shadows thickened, merging into a solid mass that pulsed faintly with the same rhythm as the hum. The spirit tilted, studying the phenomenon, an instinctive flicker of memory surfacing like a ripple in still water.
It had seen this before—this twisting darkness, this oppressive stillness.
The realization struck like a jolt, sending its glow flaring brighter for a fleeting moment. Whatever this was, it had been here long before the forest had overgrown the city. It wasn't natural. It didn't belong.
The hum grew sharper, the rhythm quickening. Sylra recoiled slightly, its edges fraying as the ache within it surged.
And then it stopped.
The hum vanished, replaced by a silence so profound it seemed to press down on the forest like a shroud. The shadows around the tree stilled, their writhing halted in an unnatural stillness.
Something was watching.
The spirit froze, its light dimming to a faint flicker. The ache within it gave way to a sharper sensation—a tug, not from the pull it had been following, but from the darkness itself.
It was no longer merely being lured. It was being hunted.

The shadows around the tree shifted again, moving with a purpose that the spirit couldn't define. Its light dimmed further, flickering like a candle in a gale. The oppressive silence pressed down harder, thick and stifling, as though the forest itself were holding its breath.
Sylra hesitated, the pull she had been following now lost beneath the weight of the darkness. This wasn't what she had been drawn to—this was something else entirely. A memory, faint and fleeting, stirred at the edge of her awareness. It whispered of familiarity, but the ache of its absence was sharper than ever.
The forest loomed, its towering trees twisting unnaturally as the silence grew unbearable. And then, faint and distant, a sound broke through—a sound not from the forest but from somewhere else entirely. It was soft, rhythmic, almost like breathing.
Sylra froze once more, her glow flaring briefly before dimming again as she once again headed towards the unknown.
Outside, the city stretched endlessly, its overgrown streets bathed in faint, eerie moonlight. The vines twisted across the walls like veins, their gnarled forms casting strange patterns that seemed to shift with every step she took.
The girl's breath quickened. She didn't know what she was looking for, but something compelled her to move.
A faint whisper reached her ears, so soft she thought she might have imagined it. It wasn't a word—just a sound, barely more than a breath, but it sent a chill racing down her spine.
She stopped, her eyes darting toward the direction of the sound. The shadows shifted, curling inward like smoke caught in a draft. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of something she couldn't name—fear, perhaps, or maybe anticipation.
She didn't know what lay ahead, but the weight in the air told her that whatever it was, it was waiting for her.
The biting chill clawed at her skin as the oppressive silence deepened, punctuated only by the faint rustle of vines shifting unnaturally across the ruins. She glanced over her shoulder toward the path she had taken, but it was gone—swallowed by both shadows and vines that crept like living tides.
Her breath quickened. Her hands tightened into fists. She had wandered this city before, or at least a place like it, but never before had she felt this...unnerved.
Fractured walls jutted out at unnatural angles, overgrown with thick tendrils of ivy that writhed like restless serpents. Above, moonlight seemed caught in the gnarled branches, casting sharp, fragmented beams across the city's empty streets. She occasionally paused in her haste to take hesitant steps forward, each movement stirring faint echoes that bounced off the skeletal remains of the buildings.
"This isn't right," she whispered again, her voice swallowed by the oppressive air.
Freezing mid-step, the girl raised her hand to her ear. A faint sound, low and resonant, rolled through the still air like distant thunder. Her breath hitched as she turned sharply, her eyes scanning the shadows for movement.
The sound came again—closer this time.
It was... breathing.
Her feet moved before she could think, carrying her away from the sound and deeper into the labyrinth of overgrowth. The jagged outlines of buildings loomed around her, their towering forms narrowing the path as she ran.
She rounded a corner, her heart pounding in her chest, and stumbled into a clearing. At the center stood the remnants of what might have once been a fountain, its cracked basin overflowing with dark, stagnant water.
She stopped, her hands braced against her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide eyes flicked around the clearing, searching for any sign of what might have been chasing her.
The breathing had stopped.
A soft rustling drew her gaze upward. The vines that hung from the surrounding buildings were shifting again, their movements more deliberate, more alive. The tendrils seemed to stretch toward her, their edges curling like claws.
She backed away slowly, her hand reaching instinctively for the pack on her shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was all she had—a few berries, a piece of charcoal, a crudely drawn map. None of it would help her now, but clutching it made her feel a little less alone.
Her foot caught on a loose stone, and she fell backward, landing hard against the cracked ground. The sound echoed loudly in the silence, and the vines froze mid-motion, as if startled by her fall.
For a moment, everything was still.
And then the shadows moved.
From the darkness beyond the clearing, a figure emerged. Its form was indistinct, shifting like smoke, but its presence was undeniable. The oppressive air grew heavier as it stepped closer, its movements slow and deliberate.
The girl scrambled backward, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn't understand what it was, but every fiber of her being screamed that she needed to get away.
The figure stopped just short of the clearing's edge, its amorphous shape twisting unnaturally.
The vines crept toward it, drawn to its presence like iron to a magnet. The shadows deepened, swallowing the faint moonlight that had managed to pierce the overgrowth.
The girl's breath caught in her throat. She didn't dare move.
And then it spoke.
A voice, low and guttural, resonated through the clearing. It wasn't words—not exactly. It was more like the echo of a thought, raw and unfiltered, pressing directly into her mind.
"You don't belong here."
Her eyes widened, her body frozen in place as the words echoed in her head.
But then, faint and flickering, something sparked at the edge of her awareness. A light—soft and distant—emerged from the forest beyond, its presence subtle yet unmistakable.
Caelus silently watched the scene unfold, his attention split between the girl and the spirit. The trial was nearing its turning point, but the outcome was far from clear.