The grove was too quiet.

  Even the insects were holding their breath.

  They made camp beneath a canopy of bone-white leaves, the kind that didn’t rustle when the wind blew. The fire crackled low, more smoke than flame, and Jarrell leaned back against the thick root of a petrified tree.

  Selena sat across from him, cleaning her staff with slow, measured strokes. She hadn’t spoken since sundown.

  He hadn’t either.

  Eventually, his eyes closed.

  ---

  He opened them again in a jungle that was wrong.

  The roots curled skyward. The vines slithered along the canopy like snakes. The sky wasn’t sky — it was a pulsing sheet of color, like staring up at the inside of a living bruise.

  The spirit was there.

  Whole.

  Not flickering. Not fragmented.

  It stood ten feet ahead, watching him. Faceless but present. Tall and thin. Too still. Too quiet.

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  It raised a hand and turned.

  Walked.

  Jarrell followed.

  ---

  The jungle warped around them.

  A mirror formed in the mist — tall, cracked, ancient.

  He stepped close.

  Inside the reflection: **his old face**. The one from Earth. From the subway. From the cracked bathroom mirror two days before he died.

  The spirit didn’t stop.

  He followed again.

  Next: a glass orb suspended in roots — and inside, **Selena**. Eyes closed. Sigils pulsing around her like a cage.

  He reached toward it — the orb blinked out of existence.

  The spirit didn’t turn.

  Just kept walking.

  Last, they came upon a massive black stone — split down the middle.

  Carved into its face: his name.

  **JARRELL.**

  Below it, the word:

  **FORFEIT.**

  ---

  The air twisted.

  From the underbrush came a **shadow beast** — jagged teeth, dripping black mass, hollow sockets for eyes.

  It charged.

  He moved to fight — but his fists passed through it.

  His blade shattered like smoke.

  Nothing worked.

  The spirit stepped forward.

  Raised a hand.

  Placed it flat against Jarrell’s chest.

  Warmth spread.

  A pulse.

  He moved on instinct — mirrored the motion.

  A glow sparked across his sternum — then erupted outward in a silent blast.

  The shadow beast dissolved.

  Gone.

  The spirit nodded once.

  As if to say: *You learned.*

  ---

  He snapped awake.

  Gasping.

  His shirt clung to his back. His skin steamed faintly.

  Selena was crouched by the fire — **staff drawn**.

  She didn’t speak right away.

  “You were mumbling,” she said finally. “And casting.”

  He looked down.

  His palm still glowed faintly — ember-red, laced with shimmer.

  He clenched it.

  Looked out into the trees.

  The spirit was gone.

  Again.

  But it left something behind this time.

  A beat in his chest.

  A whisper in his spine.

  Something that wasn’t just power.

  **[THOUGHTS]**

  If that thing wants something from me…

  It better start talking.