Morning didn't arrive in Loria the way it did back home.
There was no soft sunrise, no chirping birds or golden rays slicing through a window. No alarm buzzed Marcus awake. Instead, something bit his leg.
Hard.
"GAHH—WHAT THE—?!" Marcus jerked up, kicking wildly as a gray, six-legged creature the size of a football tumbled backward across the moss floor. It chittered, hissed, then sprinted out of the ruined shrine on spindly legs.
"Ah. The Toothweasel," Loria yawned from above, floating into view with a dim pulse of green. "They love the taste of panic."
"YOU COULD'VE WARNED ME," Marcus barked, checking his leg for blood. Just a nasty bruise. Toothweasel's teeth were real, but apparently just annoying, not lethal.
"It didn't show up until four seconds ago. I'm not omnipresent. I'm just better than you."
Marcus groaned, brushing off moss from his hoodie and trying to blink away the lingering exhaustion in his skull. "Right. Forgot I had a magical peanut gallery living in my face now."
"Not in your face. Just… near it. Constantly. Forever."
"Great. Love that. Really builds the trust."
He stepped out of the shrine. The air was thick and earthy, the sky overcast. A few glowing leaves drifted lazily to the ground. Something rustled in the distance—big. Too big to be a squirrel. Marcus froze.
"Don't worry. That's just a Mossback. Big, ugly, herbivore. Unless you look like a berry bush, it won't care."
Marcus gave her a look. "You're telling me this forest has creatures that eat shame and others that bite your ankles, but also peaceful nature cows?"
"Balance."
"Uh-huh."
They walked for hours.
Marcus tried asking about the outside world—if Loria connected to cities, towns, other humans—but got vague answers. Apparently, "you'll find out soon enough" was forest spirit for "I don't feel like explaining."
His body ached with every step. But weirdly, his stamina felt… better than yesterday. He didn't wheeze on hills. His steps felt lighter. And when he tripped on a root, he landed in a crouch instead of flat on his face.
He paused mid-step.
"Loria. Is the forest doing something to me?"
"You're adapting."
"To what?"
"The bond. The tether. The Pulse. You're not just a tourist anymore. You're part of the system now."
Marcus stared at his hand, flexing it slowly. His skin looked the same, but something pulsed faintly beneath. Like the memory of roots. Or echoes.
"Try not to think about it too hard. Forest biology is weird."
"Is there anything normal in this place?"
"Toothweasels."
"Shut up."
By midday, Marcus's stomach was howling.
He'd eaten one of his protein bars at dawn, but now he was out of food. The forest didn't exactly have 7-Elevens, and he wasn't about to start chewing on glowing bark.
"There's edible moss. Slightly bitter. May cause temporary hallucinations."
"No thank you."
"Suit yourself."
Eventually, they came to a small clearing with a shallow pool fed by a stream. Ferns the size of bicycles curled along the edge. Small bugs hovered above the water, glowing faintly.
Marcus stepped toward the pool to wash his face—
A sharp whistle sliced through the air.
He ducked on instinct as something fast and metal embedded itself in the tree beside him.
A knife.
He spun around.
A figure stepped out of the foliage, wearing dark green leathers and a fur-lined cloak. The person moved with silent confidence, a bow in one hand, another knife already drawn in the other.
Their face was half-covered with a bark-textured mask, but Marcus could make out sharp blue eyes, narrowed and calculating.
"Who are you?" the figure asked. Voice low. Female.
"I—I'm—Marcus! Just—uh—not from around here!"
"Clearly."
She circled slowly, bow half-drawn. "You're not rotting. That's a first."
"…Thanks?"
"Most outsiders who step into the forest don't last a night. They get claimed. Or digested. You… smell different."
Loria pulsed faintly beside Marcus.
"She's a hunter. Local. And suspicious. As she should be."
Marcus raised his hands. "Look, I don't know what I'm doing here, but I'm not a threat, okay? I got dropped here by a magic tree and now I'm apparently bonded to a smug glowstick."
"Confirmed," Loria said unhelpfully.
The girl didn't lower her bow. "You're bonded to the forest?"
"I guess? That's what she keeps saying."
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Prove it."
"Prove it how?"
"Touch the ground," Loria said. "Breathe out slowly. Picture a root growing from your chest into the soil."
Marcus stared at her. "That sounds fake."
"It's how you access the Pulse."
Sighing, Marcus crouched down and placed one hand on the moss.
He closed his eyes, inhaled, and exhaled.
And then—he felt it.
A thrum. Like distant thunder inside the earth. A network. Threads of vibration and thought. Not voices—just presence. Like something impossibly old breathing beneath him.
The moss under his hand glowed faintly.
The girl lowered her bow. "…Hells."
Her name was Kaelra, and she wasn't impressed.
They sat around a small campfire later that evening, eating roasted vinefruit that tasted like burnt mangoes. Kaelra moved like a predator and spoke like a soldier—sharp, brief, and annoyed.
"So you're just… some guy?"
"I was hiking. Touched a tree. Now I'm here."
"Typical."
Apparently, her people—the Nira'Tal—were forest dwellers who'd lived with Loria for generations. But the forest had started changing. Darker things stirring. Rot spreading. And then, for the first time in decades, the Heartroot activated.
Kaelra had come to investigate. She didn't expect to find a scrawny, sarcastic outsider instead of a glowing chosen one.
"I thought the forest was choosing a warrior," she said flatly.
"Yeah, well. I thought I was getting a weekend hike and ended up in Narnia's murder cousin."
"You're not ready for this place."
"Believe me, I'm aware."
As night fell, Marcus lay in a sleeping roll Kaelra tossed at him like a pity gift.
The fire crackled. Loria hovered nearby, dimmer than usual.
"You did alright today."
Marcus turned his head. "You mean I didn't die. That's a win."
"Don't get cocky."
He watched the stars overhead—too many, too bright. Some moved. Some blinked like eyes.
"Loria… what happens if I fail?"
"Then the bond breaks. The Pulse rejects you. The rot spreads. And the forest falls apart."
"No pressure."
"None at all."
He closed his eyes, listening to the wind, the crackle, and the quiet.