That morning, after a modest breakfast and making sure Rima didn't suspect my little plan for the day, I returned to the haunted house I had studied from the outside the day before. A thin mist clung low over the land, turning the wheat fields around the old house into a golden ocean slowly sinking into the earth. The wind carried the scent of wet soil and decaying wood, while morning birds chirped as if whispering for me to leave. But I walked closer, wearing a small smile.
"A fine morning to sneak into forgotten secrets," I murmured, my cloak swaying gently as I stepped onto the creaking porch.
The house stood proud despite peeling paint and crumbling walls. Its windows resembled hollow eyes, watching all who approached. I didn't use magic this time. I wanted to see how much I could discover with just my eyes and instincts. Sometimes, magic makes you lazy.
I slipped through a broken window. The floorboards groaned under my feet, like the breath of a place filled with grim memories.
"If I were a ghost filled with regret, I'd sleep well in a place like this," I muttered, more to hear my own voice than anything else.
The first thing that caught my attention was the large living room with a long-dead fireplace. On a near-collapsing table, there was a framed family photo. Four people. A middle-aged man in a fine suit, a graceful woman in lace, and two children—a son and a daughter. The son looked stern, sitting upright with sharp eyes like his father. But the daughter... she smiled. Her eyes were alive. As if she knew that even in the ruin of this house, someone would one day look at her photo and wonder who she was.
I slowly turned the frame. No name. No date. Just fossilized memories. "You look like someone who kept secrets, huh?" I whispered to the daughter's photo.
From the living room, I moved into a long hallway. One of the rooms at the end seemed different. Its wooden door was darker, marked with faint carvings. I pushed it open gently and found a room that, somehow, had been better preserved than the rest. Torn curtains still hung, a dusty comb rested on the vanity, and on the floor, a porcelain doll with one broken eye.
"This was her room, wasn't it?" I sat on the edge of the old bed. My fingers brushed the doll. Its broken parts were cold.
I stood and made my way beneath the stairs. Something felt... off. A door beneath the staircase stood out. Its paint was fresher than the surrounding wall, unpeeled like the others. I knocked. Hollow sound. Smiling, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small nail. I gently scraped the surface, peeling away some paint to reveal the edge of a hidden door.
"Funny. They hid a door but forgot I'm a witch with too much curiosity."
But I didn't open it. Not yet. I marked it with a small, subtle scratch and memorized its location.
Satisfied that nothing had moved or changed, I left the old house. There was no need to rush. There was still plenty of time to toy with the mystery.
I followed the trail toward the riverbank, where the old chapel stood. The building looked like a somber painting from another time. Moss coated the walls, and the main door hung slightly open, inviting the foolish to enter.
The chapel was built in a typical layout—a central aisle, long pews, and a plain altar. I stepped inside, letting silence envelop me. Sunlight streamed through faded stained glass, casting pale shadows on the floor.
"At night, that altar probably hosts vampires," I chuckled, imagining my own horror cutscene.
I circled the altar and spotted something behind it. Footprints. Recent. Maybe a few days old. Too clean for a villager, too tidy for a farmer.
"They hide well from ordinary eyes... but not from me. Credit to them, and to me."
The prints led to a small room beside the altar, probably an old storage or priest's changing room. Signs of activity. Partially swept dust, food wrappers, even neatly folded cloth in a corner.
But no trace of supernatural power. No strange aura, no deathly chill. The chapel was abandoned... but reused for a purpose I hadn't yet uncovered.
I decided to return to the village and meet the old man who had given me information the day before.
"Ah, you're back," he greeted casually.
"I like wandering. Especially to places full of history and... memories," I said, sitting on a nearby log.
"Haha, kids these days are something else."
"By the way, the chapel's pretty well kept for an abandoned place. Maybe some pilgrims who like solitude?"
He chuckled, eyes narrowing slightly. "Maybe bored youngsters."
I laughed lightly. "These days, bored youngsters would rather fight than sit quietly in damp old places."
A pause. I straightened up.
"Just curious, sir. Empty places sometimes hold interesting stories, right?"
He gave a flat smile. "Sometimes. Other times, they're just empty."
That was his way of closing the topic. Not ignorant, just unwilling to say more. I respected that. Everyone has something to hide.
"Alright then. Thank you, sir. Lovely day, as always."
I turned away, thoughts whirring. The chapel, the footprints, the hidden door...
All part of a larger puzzle.
And I loved puzzles.
I just had one place left to check. But I needed company. Heading into the village, I knocked on Bernard's door with a light rhythm, as if waking a sleepy cat. Soon the door opened, revealing Bernard's ever-grouchy face. His hair was a mess, and his eyes clearly asked, "What now, Shinna?"
"Wanna gather herbs?" I asked bluntly.
He frowned. "Herbs? Why so sudden?"
I leaned on his porch post, arms crossed. "Because I'm bored. And you're easy to drag around."
He sighed. "Why me? You can go alone."
"Of course I can," I replied quickly. "But it's more fun with someone to talk to. And hey, you might be useful."
He narrowed his eyes. "This isn't one of your weird infiltration missions again, is it?"
I just smiled. "Have I ever done anything like that?"
"Yes."
"Touché," I chuckled. "But this time, really, it's just herbs."
"What for?"
"Potions. Winter stock. Anything that sounds convincing." I gave him my most innocent look.
He let out a long sigh. "You always have weird reasons."
"You always have too many doubts."
"I have survival instincts. You have a talent for causing trouble."
I patted my pocket and pulled out a small pouch of coins. "Then let this bribe your oversensitive instincts."
Bernard stared at it long and hard before giving in. "Damn it. Fine. But you're buying dinner too."
"Of course. But I'm choosing the place. And I'll order something to make you jealous."
"I already regret this."
"Good. Now get ready."
We walked away from his house. I told him our destination—the northern forest. Bernard stopped in his tracks.
"No."
"Yes," I replied with an annoying grin. "Relax, we're just gathering herbs."
"That forest is cursed."
"It's just the northern forest, Bernard. Sadly named by people with poor taste."
"Shinna..."
"Let's ask the locals first. Maybe they know some good herb spots."
We wandered the village and spoke to a few villagers near a small stall. I started as usual, cheerful, like selling antiques.
"Uncle, if I were looking for herbs for wounds or colds, where's the best place in the northern forest?"
The uncle raised a brow, then answered cautiously, "Usually around the mossy boulders on the slopes. But be careful. Strange sounds come at night."
"Oh, I'm only strange in daylight," I answered breezily.
Bernard just shook his head. We gathered a few more tips and finally headed out.
As we entered the northern forest, the atmosphere changed. The air was damper, sunlight dimmed under thick leaves, and birdsong faded. The scent of wet soil and old trees muffled our footsteps.
"Are you sure we're not entering the belly of a giant beast?" I asked.
"You're too relaxed. This is serious, Shinna. The stories aren't just tales."
"Yeah, yeah. The forest is alive, mysterious, and loves tender meat. But I'm older than I look, so I should be safe."
"You never take things seriously."
I turned and smiled. "Seriousness ages you faster."
Bernard halted. "Promise me you'll stay cautious."
I paused, then nodded. "Okay. Focused and sane. That's the deal. But that also means you don't disappear dramatically."
He snorted. "You talk too much. I'll head east. Meet back here in two hours."
I nodded and waved. "Don't fall for forest fairies. They like broody guys."
Hours passed. I returned to our meeting point. The wind picked up, bringing cold air from the heights. I called Bernard's name a few times.
No answer.
I exhaled slowly. "So you did disappear."
But I wasn't panicked. I knew this could happen.
"Good thing I'm clever," I muttered, activating the small tracker I had placed in his boot.
While waiting for the signal, I walked deeper into the forest.
Dry leaves blanketed the ground. Tree roots jutted out like ancient hands from the soil. Mist rolled in. I observed the surroundings—no active magic aura, but something faint... like the forest breathed.
"Highlands. Thin air... this isn't an ordinary forest. But it's not a monster either. It's... a place with its own will."
I moved cautiously, following both instinct and tracker signal. "Don't lose your mind, Bernard. I don't want to bury you. Too sad and too expensive."
And so, I kept going, tracing faint paths, stepping over fallen trees, noting every subtle shift in the air and sound.
Because this forest wasn't just a place. It was something watching back.
**************************
A thin mist clung to the tall trees of the northern forest, hanging like a curtain of dreams that blurred the boundary between reality and something else. Sunlight filtered faintly through, leaving only silver streaks that couldn't chase away the shadows. Silence. So quiet, even footsteps barely made a sound.
Benard walked. His feet carried him along an unnamed trail, aimless, unaware why he couldn't stop. His face was blank, but sweat beaded his forehead. His breathing was shallow—not from exhaustion, but from an unease he couldn't explain.
He didn't know how long he had walked until finally, he saw someone. A woman stood among tangled roots and bushes. She looked familiar, yet oddly, his mind resisted naming her. Her face was calm but dim, wearing a simple dress. Her long hair was loosely braided.
"You... who are you?" Benard asked, his voice coming out smaller than he intended.
The woman smiled gently and dipped her head in polite greeting. "Sorry to startle you. I'm just... lost."
"Alone in a forest like this? That's dangerous," Benard muttered, his instincts kicking in from years of caution. "Are you alright?"
She nodded. "Thank you for asking. Not many men care enough to ask that."
Benard fell silent. Something in his chest stirred—something old, something he once felt.
"I used to know someone like you," the woman continued. "He was kind, funny, used to bring me wildflowers just because he saw I looked tired. He knew I wasn't perfect. And I loved him not because he was extraordinary, but because he was human."
She looked up toward the sky through the canopy, as if diving into memory. "We got married. Lived simply, but warmly. He liked making breakfast, even if it was usually burned. We had a daughter—clever little thing who mimicked him when he was angry. He'd tell stories at night, about silly kings and forgetful witches."
Benard let out a faint smile, unaware of it. Everything she said felt familiar. He didn't know why, but every word painted a clear picture in his mind. Like reading a book he'd once written himself.
"But…" her voice began to fade. "Over time, he changed. Came home later. Talked less. Said he was tired, but I knew… it was more than that. There was the smell of alcohol. Missing money. I tried to hold on. I wanted our family to stay whole. But the more I fought for it, the farther he drifted."
Benard clenched his fists. His throat tightened.
"One night, he left and never came back. Just a note. No apology. Our daughter cried for days. I didn't know what to say to her…"
"That man… was a bastard," Benard whispered, almost growling. "Weak. Stupid. How could he walk away from something so precious?"
The woman turned to him, her soft eyes now shimmering. "Thank you. That… helps."
She slowly turned and walked away, her dress brushing against the wet leaves. But just before she vanished into the mist, a small girl darted out from behind the trees, running toward her. The girl… their daughter.
Benard froze. His breath caught. He recognized those eyes. That little laugh. The way her hair bounced as she ran. He knew them. They were his.
"Wait!" he shouted, breaking into a run, thorns tearing at his legs. "I'm sorry! I was a fool! I don't know why I became like that! I just wanted to be a good father! I… I love you!"
His voice cracked. Tears streamed down his face. The girl glanced back, smiling faintly—but didn't stop. The woman turned too, her gaze sad but peaceful.
"I hope you can change, Benard," she said softly.
"No… Maty, Liria!"
And then they disappeared into the fog.
Benard collapsed in sobs. His body trembled, crushed by the weight of regret. He wanted to scream, to beg, to start everything over. But before he could reach them, something pushed him back.
He was flung backward, like a ragdoll struck by an invisible force.
I saw Benard hit the ground like a sack of wet cloth. My eyes widened. "Benard!" I yelled, running toward him. I crouched down, slapping his cheek in exaggerated worry. "Oi! Wake up! You're not dead, are you?"
His eyelids slowly fluttered open. "What… happened?"
I casually tossed away the small stick I'd been holding. It hit the ground with a thud. "I saw you trip. Your legs must've forgotten how balance works."
He didn't answer. Just stared, dazed and silent. I scan his face for a second, then looked away. I stood and walked toward the edge.
The cliff yawned before me, fog swallowing its depths. But I could see the rocks far below… and bones peeking through the mist.
I heard Benard step closer behind me. Without turning, I said, "Well… at least you fell backward. If it were forward, I'd have to climb down and fetch your wallet."
Benard remained quiet, then finally muttered, "Thank you…"
He rubbed the bump on his head. I grinned, "Don't get all dramatic. I need a herbal partner, not a corpse."
"I'd be creeped out if there were a local legend about a ghost with an empty wallet."
He didn't laugh. Just stared at the ravine like he was seeing himself for the first time.
I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine. Our herb hunt ends here."
Still no response. I looked out again toward the far side of the ravine. Thick mist rolled in waves, hiding something I couldn't see—but could feel. There was an energy there. Something vast, ancient, patient. Something waiting.
I clenched my fists. I was impatient too.But I knew…
Not yet.