Mihai woke to the muted light of dawn creeping through the small cracks in the walls of the hut, casting thin, pale rays across the floor. The air felt heavy, thick with an unfamiliar scent—a blend of damp earth and distant smoke that reminded him of the early mornings in his old world, yet somehow starker, as if this place had no warmth in its bones.

He sat up slowly, glancing around. The hut was small and sparsely furnished, with little more than a rough wooden cot, a chipped clay pitcher of water, and a single low table made of dark, knotted wood. The walls were a shade between gray and brown, like the bark of a dying tree, and patches of moss crept along the edges where the light failed to reach. Everything about the place felt… weathered, worn down by years of silent observation.

Rubbing his eyes, Mihai pulled on his boots and made his way to the door, hesitating as he noticed the village coming to life in the pale morning fog. He pushed the door open and stepped outside, shivering slightly as the cool, damp air pressed against his skin. The village itself seemed to rise out of the earth like the roots of ancient trees—low huts with thatched roofs, sagging under their own weight, lined the narrow paths. Mud-streaked stones formed the pathways, their jagged edges softened by thin layers of moss and puddles from the previous night’s rain.

The villagers moved quietly, their figures cloaked in dark wool and heavy, coarse linen, casting glances that lingered just a bit too long on him. Their faces were etched with lines that spoke of years spent under gray skies and whispered omens. It felt like a place that had forgotten color, where every hue had faded to shades of slate, ash, and earth.

Before he could take in more, he heard Cian’s familiar voice from across the path.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Cian greeted him with a faint smile, striding over with an easy confidence. He seemed to be one of the few people in the village who carried himself with an air of lightness, despite the somber surroundings. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I expected,” Mihai replied, forcing a small smile of his own. “This place… it’s different from what I’m used to.”

Cian chuckled, his eyes glinting with a hint of understanding. “Aye, it’s a strange land, alright. Dull skies and misty mornings—nár imeá too far alone. The forest can be… temperamental.”

Mihai nodded, catching the warning in Cian’s words. “Thanks. I… don’t quite know how to put it, but everything here feels like it’s hiding something. Like the world itself is holding its breath.”

Cian tilted his head, studying Mihai for a moment. “That’s a good way of putting it. You’ll get used to it, eventually.” He gestured for Mihai to follow. “Tar anseo, I’ll show you around. You’ll need to know the lay of the land if you’re to be staying.”

They moved through the village in silence, the morning mist swirling around their feet like wisps of pale smoke. Cian pointed out the important locations—the central hearth, where villagers gathered to share news or warmth, a small well with water that glistened darkly in the half-light, and a modest shrine, carved from stone and decorated with symbols Mihai didn’t recognize.

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“This is for Yahweh,” Cian explained, seeing Mihai’s curious gaze. “The villagers here… they’ve kept faith in the old ways, even as the world around them shifts and darkens. Though… even Yahweh feels distant to some, these days.”

Mihai felt a pang at Cian’s words, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For the villagers, Yahweh was a god—a distant protector, if not a silent one. For Mihai, though, Yahweh was real, an undeniable presence guiding him on this path. But he wondered how much he was truly ready to share.

As they walked, they came upon a group of villagers gathered in a small clearing just beyond the shrine. They were older, their expressions worn with years of hardship, but their eyes held an unmistakable intensity as they whispered among themselves, casting furtive glances toward the forest’s edge.

“What’s happening over there?” Mihai asked, keeping his voice low.

Cian’s face darkened slightly. “They’re talking about the disappearances. Every now and then, someone from the village… well, they go missing. Those who venture too far into the forest sometimes don’t come back. The elders say it’s the work of daoine dorcha, creatures corrupted by shadows.”

Mihai felt a chill run down his spine. “Dark ones?”

Cian nodded, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Some believe they’re just stories to keep children from wandering too far, but I know better. I’ve seen things in that forest, Mihai. Shadows that move like living things, creatures with eyes that glow in the dark. The villagers call them Grimee… parasites born of corrupted darkness.”

The memory of the Grimee he and Raven had faced the night before flooded Mihai’s mind. He hadn’t imagined it—there were others, and they were here, lurking in the shadows of the world. A sudden sense of urgency filled him, and he turned to Cian, his expression serious.

“I saw them last night,” he said. “I was ambushed… until a wolf appeared.”

Cian’s eyes widened. “A wolf, you say?”

Mihai nodded, recounting the encounter as vividly as he could—the golden eyes, the raw power, the strange sense of understanding that had passed between them. Cian listened intently, a faint look of wonder crossing his face.

“You’re talking about the dire wolf, then. We call them mac tíre. They’re rare, almost legends. The forest only reveals them to those it deems worthy—or those it finds useful.” He raised an eyebrow, studying Mihai with renewed curiosity.

“So, you think the wolf… chose to help me?”

“Maybe,” Cian replied. “Or maybe it was drawn to you because of what you carry—Yahweh’s mark. It’s not something the villagers would understand easily, though, so I’d keep that to yourself.”

Mihai nodded, realizing the truth in Cian’s words. There was something here, in this village, that he had yet to uncover. He was an outsider, and the villagers’ distrust of him was evident. But Cian… Cian’s trust was genuine, and Mihai felt an unexpected bond beginning to form between them.

“Lean liom,” Cian said, his tone shifting. “If you’re to understand this place, you’ll need more than just a tour.”

They left the clearing and ventured toward the forest, its shadows stretching long and dark under the overcast sky. The trees loomed overhead, twisted and ancient, their branches heavy with age and memory. They seemed to whisper as the wind stirred, a low murmur that made Mihai’s skin prickle.

They reached a small glade, where the trees parted just enough to let a faint, pale light seep through. Cian knelt by a patch of moss, running his fingers over the damp ground.

“This forest,” he began, “it has rules. Some of them aren’t for us to understand, but if you’re smart, you learn to respect them. There are paths the trees hide, clearings that appear and vanish with the seasons. And then there are creatures—some loyal to the land, others twisted by it. Yahweh’s blessing won’t protect you if you don’t heed the forest’s ways.”

Mihai crouched beside him, watching as Cian traced symbols in the earth—circles and lines that he couldn’t quite comprehend but felt drawn to nonetheless.

“Teach me,” Mihai said quietly. “I need to understand… all of this.”

Cian looked at him, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. After a moment, he nodded. “Very well. But know this: it’s not a matter of learning facts. You have to feel it. This land, it’ll test you. And if you don’t show it respect… it won’t hesitate to cast you aside.”

They spent hours in the forest that day, with Cian teaching Mihai the basics of tracking, reading the landscape, and understanding the subtle signs that marked safe paths. He learned about the “nár imeá” places—those parts of the forest where even the bravest villagers dared not tread.

As dusk fell and they made their way back to the village, Mihai felt an odd sense of peace. The land was harsh, its colors muted, its secrets hidden deep within the shadows. But for the first time, he felt a glimmer of understanding—a quiet acknowledgment that he was part of something far greater than himself.

The wolf’s gaze lingered in his mind, a reminder of the bond he had yet to fully comprehend. And as he and Cian entered the village under the eerie light of the fading day, Mihai knew that this was only the beginning.