The axe sliced through the air with a sharp whistle. The blade struck the wood with a satisfying *THWACK*, vibrating through his arms as the impact resonated. He pulled back, the blade wedged momentarily, then yanked it with a grunt.

He stepped back to assess his work-a deep gash ran down the trunk, the fibers of the wood splintered and frayed. Sweat trickled down his brow, but Robert welcomed the burn in his muscles. This was grounding; each swing took him farther from his troubled past.

*THWACK*

He swung again, the rhythm of chopping settling into a steady beat. His breath became heavier, coming is measured gasps matching the rise and fall of the axe. Smell of fresh-cut wood filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.

With each strike, Robert lost himself in the motion, his mind clearing like the wood chips scattering at his feet. Memories of loss faded with every thud of the axe against the trunk. He didn’t think of the kingdom or the heartache; he simply existed in the moment, the task at hand consuming him.

*CRACK*

The tree trembled, a loud groan echoing through the grove as the trunk began to buckle. Robert stepped back, and with one last powerful swing, he aimed for the weakened point.

*THUNK*

The tree fell with a thunderous crash, shaking the ground beneath him. Dust and leaves swirled in the air as the massive trunk hit the forest floor. Robert stood still, the axe resting on his shoulder, panting with exertion and a rush of exhilaration.

In that moment, the weight of the world lifted, if only for a heartbeat. He gazed at the fallen oak, feeling a strange satisfaction wash over him. This was his world now—one of sweat, labor, and the simple act of chopping wood.

But time had not been kind to Robert; it never was, and it probably never would be. He was now as alone as he had been as an orphan in the small village at the borders of the Crydonian Republic. Those weren't the best of days, but now when he thought of them, he realized they were the fulcrum—the catapult that had launched him to the peak and then brought him crashing down.

All because of one chance meeting, when he met Lor—NO. Robert stopped that train of thought, willing it to halt. He did not want to think of him today. Such memories were best kept locked away, lest they reopen the old wounds he had struggled to keep from bursting.

Robert now lived alone in the Weeping Forest, where no living human dared. He resided in a small wooden hut at the center of the woods, beneath the ancient living tree, serving as an atonement for all his mistakes and the toll they took on his kingdom. Today, Robert felt an unusual heaviness in his chest, a familiar weight that had settled over him like a shroud. He didn’t know why, but the memories of his past felt particularly vivid.

With a sigh, he decided he would repair the roof of his house—a house, he thought wryly, that was really just a small hut. Robert had never been the best of craftsmen; he didn’t need to be. After all, he had been a king. Yet, he had come to appreciate the calming effect of immersing himself in a task where body and mind worked together, allowing him to think of nothing else.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Setting off to his hut from the north end of the forest, where groves of oak trees grew, Robert welcomed the quiet solitude around him. He didn't have to come to cut a tree, of course. He could have just summoned a druid from the grove, and she would have grown the needed wood for him. But today, he wanted to cut the tree himself—he needed the distraction.

An hour later, he had almost reached his hut. He surveyed the river flowing before him. This was where he spent all his time nowadays, practicing his sword forms, tending to his food or just reminiscing the past in general. As he crossed over a fallen tree that spanned the river which he had placed there, a sudden scream pierced the stillness of the forest.

Robert froze, the axe in his hand feeling heavy. It was a sound filled with fear, echoing in the quiet of the Weeping Forest. Instinctively, he turned toward the sound, a knot forming in his stomach. The tranquility he had been savoring evaporated, replaced by a surge of concern.

“Who could have come so far inside the forest?” he wondered, stepping cautiously through the underbrush. The woods were not a welcoming place; it was easy to get lost, or worse. But he couldn’t ignore someone in distress, not after living for so long in the solitude of this cursed forest.

He pushed deeper into the trees, following the sound of snapping branches and a muffled cry. Each step felt heavier than the last, yet he pressed on, a growing urgency gnawing at him.

“Hold on!” Robert called out, his voice steady as he sprinted toward the chaos. The girl was ensnared by the twisted branches of the ancient trees, their limbs coiling around her like serpents, intent on dragging her into the depths of the Weeping Forest. Her eyes widened in terror as she struggled against the suffocating grip.

“Stay calm! I’ll get you out!” he reassured her, and with a wave of his hand, Robert summoned the raw power of the grove. The air thickened with magic, crackling around him as the trees obeyed his command, their sinister movements halting instantly.

“Enough!” he thundered, his voice resonating like a storm through the forest. The branches quivered, pausing mid-strike, as Robert’s will crashed over them like a tidal wave.

With a flick of his wrist, he expelled the vines that ensnared her, and they recoiled violently, releasing her with a sharp snap. She stumbled back, wide-eyed, as the trees shuddered in reluctant submission to their master.

“Now,” Robert declared, his voice imbued with authority. “You will not harm her again.”

The trees groaned in protest, but he raised his hand, and the very roots of the forest writhed in acknowledgment of their king’s command.

In an instant, he wove a spell of dominance through the grove, the ancient magic enveloping the trees in shimmering light. They trembled and bowed, the very ground vibrating with the power of his will. With a final, decisive motion, he thrust his palm downward, and the oppressive energy released, sending a shock wave through the grove.

The trees shuddered violently, branches snapping back like whips, bowing low before him. The girl gasped, taking a step back as the forest fell silent, the branches now stilled in reverence to their rightful ruler.

“You are safe now,” Robert assured her, turning his gaze back to the subdued trees. His body swelled with the weight of his ancient power, a reminder of who he was.

The forest remained still, the shadows receding as he reclaimed his dominion, the air thick with the echoes of his magic.