Chapter 23: Black Mulch

Cassian walked through a world drained of its hues, where colors were nothing but old, forgotten songs. Dark ash fell from the sky, each flake carrying the scent of blood, coating his skin, and sticking to the wet, black mulch beneath his feet. Every step felt like sinking into the forest’s ancient marrow.

He knew he was still in the Forest of Whispers; he felt this in his bones. But the forest had transformed into something spectral and desolate.

Except, suddenly there was a faint blue green light, like a bright planet in the night, only seen through the sheen of clouds. It beckoned him, a beacon in the morbid sea of blacks and grays.

As he trudged through mulch, each step was like trudging through ever thickening tar, new thoughts from his own depths bubbled to the surface.

Why was he here? Not just in this desolate place in the Forest of Whispers, but in the strange and magical world of Sonaris. Of all the countless souls in the universe, why was his plucked from behind the veil and given another chance? Was there truly a calamity that only he could fix, and literally no one else?

He should be grateful to Aria, he supposed. If he had been dead, then she had saved him. It was only natural that he should be happy to save her. Besides, she had said their destinies were entwined.

But are those her true motives?

This thought was alien, carrying the flavor of an eldritch being, beyond comprehension. It’s presence was gone as quickly at it had come. But it left a lingering aftertaste. He knew it had not been his imagination.

Then that thought gnawed at him, as persistent as the smell of blood in the air. Could the voice be implying that Aria had ulterior motives? Is that more plausible than “Luke, you are the chosen one”?

His nose suddenly felt the wetness of the black mulch. Only then did he realize he had sunk so far. He was drowning in it. Drowning in the…

And then he was standing on a balcony, looking over the edge. The wind in his hair, the sound of traffic below. Behind him was his apartment. A television, a Playstation, several empty pizza boxes and a six pack of empty bottles. Two empty glasses on the table?

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This is mine. Something that belongs to me. A memory from my past life!

But as soon as he tried to grab hold, to run inside, he was launched backward, over the railing—and he was falling again, off the side of the building, the distant ground rising up to meet him, the sound of cars drowned by the howl of wind and…

I deserved it.

Cassian found himself on his hands and knees on the ground, panting hard. He was in yet another part of the forest. He pushed himself to his feet, and saw he was among trees like tombstones, their branches twisted and lifeless. It was a graveyard. Here the scent of blood was strongest, and thick ash fell from the sky. It was suffocating.

A chorus of whispers started like the chittering of chinchilla. Growing in volume and fever pitch, each voice rubbed against each other. They shrieked of destiny, a din of unfulfilled promises. Cassian clapped his hands to his ears, but he couldn’t muffle the sound. He realized he was screaming with them, his voice mixing with the other so he couldn’t tell where he ended and they began. He was one of them.

Until one voice sounded clear, and the rest grew silent.

"To find what’s lost, one faces the past. But beware the path forged in iron grows its roots in time, steadfast."

Cassian blinked. At the end of a path lined columns of white husked trees, there was an altar. On it sat a woman with white pasty hair and fox tails. Though her hair and tail had been bleached of color, he recognized her. She was the medical officer who had gone missing.

Her presence was haunting and familiar. She raiseeyes, pupils unnaturally black, but wearing a smile as content as the grateful dead.

"In the heart of the forest, where time stands still, you’ll find the iron that bends to your will. But only if you are unmovable, firm, then what waits for the wanderer’s return?"

The answer whispered to him like a memory. She’s talking about the iron tree.

The woman’s smile faintly widened, as if she’d heard his thoughts. Then she continued her cryptic riddles that sounded almost like prophecy.

"In shadows she waits, where the whispers converge. Her name is a song, a destiny urged. Who is this spirit, wily and fierce, that tugs you through trials with heartstrings pierced?"

Aria.

Cassian felt a warmth spread through him, and the eldritch presence passed him by, like a wake of a colossal whale.

The woman’s eyes gleamed.

“He will not let you come alone. It is not his way. Take care, wanderer, and fare well.”

He awoke with a start, the scent of blood and the weight of the riddles gone, but not forgotten.