Erasmus stirred.
It started with a twitch of the fingers, a faint sigh, and then—like a puppet reattaching its strings—he sat bolt upright with far too much energy for someone who had just nearly died screaming. His head snapped toward the group with wide, radiant eyes, like a boy waking from a divine dream.
He grinned.
"I've received more instructions," he announced, voice bright, theatrical, brimming with unnatural cheer. "My God—The One Who Walks Beyond Reason—has shared with me even more revelations! I now know where to find food and water. We're going to be okay!"
The group stared at him.
No one moved.
The group stood among twisted trees whose bark pulsed faintly as if breathing. Black petals fluttered occasionally from unseen heights, floating down like ash. Wherever they landed, roots surged from the ground moments later—reaching, grasping, then retreating again as if afraid of being seen. Rei's divine flame shimmered faintly at his fingertips, and whenever the petals touched his aura, the creeping roots halted. Sizzled. Withdrew like wounded things.
But the others didn't speak yet. Only watched.
Brin frowned. "Wait... Food?"
"We're not actually hungry," Rei murmured, tilting his head as if only now realizing. "Or thirsty. At all."
"Same here," Mira said, lifting her hand to her lips like she'd expected to feel dryness, and found nothing. "That can't be right."
Riven's brow furrowed. "It was just one fruit," he murmured. "Or whatever it was. Not even a meal."
A quiet pause settled over the clearing, cold and heavy with the unspoken: Why aren't we starving?
"Oh well!" Erasmus chirped, clapping his hands and flashing a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
They turned to him again.
"Are you hungry?" Mira asked, slowly, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Erasmus paused.
The air seemed to hush, as if the forest leaned closer to hear the next part of the show.
Then, in perfect melodramatic fashion, Erasmus wilted. His posture slumped. His gaze fell. He rubbed at his eyes like a child staving off tears. His voice came out small and cracked.
"I've known true hunger," he whispered. "Deep, gnawing, soul-sucking hunger. No parents. No home. I scavenged from the filth. I drank rain from leaves. I stole scraps from dogs." A hiccup. A snivel. He looked up, eyes damp but unbroken. "But I endured. Because I knew… I believed… that one day, it would all be worth it."
A fake sob. A little sniffle. He even hiccupped for effect.
He straightened slowly, hand placed theatrically over his heart, eyes blazing with faux-fervor.
And just like that, his tone flipped.
"My God tested me. He watched me starve, suffer, crawl—to see if I was worthy. It was His trial for me. His divine silence! But once I proved myself… once I endured... He gave me this responsibility. These revelations. This purpose."
He began nodding—slowly, then rapidly, as if his body couldn't contain the conviction he was manufacturing. His head bobbed with increasing tempo, like a pendulum counting down to madness. He mumbled nonsense under his breath, just loud enough to be unsettling, yet not coherent enough to confront.
The forest watched.
Vines above them swayed though there was no wind. Petals fell faster now—spinning lazily like they were choosing targets.
Mira leaned toward Rei and whispered, "You sure this is the guy we're trusting with our lives?"
Rei didn't answer. He just watched Erasmus with something like wary fascination. Like a man trying to read the sky before it rains blood.
"He's... consistent," Rei muttered. "In a very concerning way."
Erasmus stopped nodding as suddenly as he had begun. His posture snapped upright again, his expression turning bright and clear like fog vanishing all at once.
"I've found more clues!" he beamed. "The Trial continues. I know where we go next. Quickly now! The path awaits!"
He spun on his heel, robes flaring, and darted into the crooked trees ahead.
The group hesitated. Mira scowled. Brin looked exhausted. Rei rubbed his temples. Riven muttered something about regrets.
Still, they followed.
The world shifted as they walked. Trees grew sideways. Flowers blinked when stared at. The air grew thicker, denser, like breathing through cloth soaked in memory. That same sense of unplaceable pressure pressed down on them—the Trial, or perhaps something older, something beneath the Trial, waiting to be understood.
They followed Erasmus not because they trusted him—but because there was no better alternative.
Leaves brushed past them. Shadows shifted like watching eyes. Somewhere in the far canopy, the petals began to fall again—slow, black, and silent.
Erasmus led the way, occasionally spinning around to offer odd smiles and nonsense phrases, pointing to landmarks only he could see, humming tunes that didn't belong in any world they remembered.
But beneath it all, behind his eyes—
Something sharper waited.
And when no one was looking—
He stopped smiling.
—
In his thoughts, Erasmus was silent. Calculating.
They trust me now.
Or at least enough to follow me around.
All it took was playing broken. Playing dumb. Playing innocent. That silly sob story bought more than just their sympathy—it bought their directionless desperation.
He glanced back at them—Rei looking cautious, Mira suspicious but trapped, Brin tired, and Riven still watching everyone like they might snap any second.
They think I'm their torch in the dark, Erasmus mused.
Good.
His gaze drifted forward again, to the unnatural curve of the forest path, where trees bent just wrong and the air buzzed with threads of unreality.
This is the place, he thought. The proving ground. The next fork in the Trial… or at least the part I've claimed as one.
This place will probably remove any sympathy they had for me.
It'll all be worth it though, even if they don't trust me, they'll still cling on to the hope of returning to their home.
What's even better is that they still don't know anything about me.
The less an enemy knows about you, the more they'll imagine about you.
And as his gaze flickered skyward, pale eyes glinting faintly with refracted color, he felt the threads of possible futures coil behind them.
Lately, he thought, almost absently, Fractured Sight hasn't given me any side effects.
He did not expand on that.
He simply kept walking, petals falling around him like blessings from a god only he believed in.