Ren tried to sleep, but something was keeping him up: a constant buzz that rang in his mind every time he closed his eyes. The tighter his eyes, the louder the noise.
He slammed the side of his fist into the ground.
"How long has it been..."
Pushing to his feet, Ren stepped out into the dark forest. It was hard to tell the time here—the swirling sky, the blackened trees, the cold breeze. It never changed. It never moved.
He pulled his cloak tighter, comforting himself against the cold air, as he searched for anything forageable. Rusted scraps. Dead leaves. Bits of bone and shredded cloth.
After what felt like hours, Ren returned to the cave, clutching a bundle of half-rotten debris and brittle herbs. But he froze as he stepped past the stone threshold of the cave.
Something was different. Something was wrong.
He hesitantly stepped forward, taking out his rusted dagger for protection.
And then—
Squish
A wet, tearing noise echoed from deep within.
Followed by a low, choking wail.
It sounded like a baby.
A crying baby, gurgling and desperate.
"Help me...Help me...Mama...Mama...Please..."
Ren's chest tightened.
It was wrong. All wrong. That sound didn't belong here.
"It's-"
"Mama...Help me..."
"It's close..."
The cry was clear, but he couldn't see. It was as if the voice hid just far enough to stay unseen.
Then, the cave trembled.
A horrible cracking came from deeper within, like ribs snapping open.
And from the dark, a slug-like shape slithered into view—its form wrong in every conceivable way. Its chest was an open cage, stretching outwards like something had ripped it apart. Its shape was made of mutilated bone and flesh, as if it took it from other living things. Long limbs dragged behind it, twitching sporadically in all directions. It had no mouth, no eyes.
It moaned again, that infant-like gurgling sound piercing Ren's ears.
He took a step back.
And another
Crack
A familiar groan spilled out beneath him.
A corpse.
Ren flinched at the sight, nearly falling as he stumbled back. The corpse twitched—its hand scraping at the ground as if begging for help.
The thing dragged itself forward—not with legs, but with a collection of arms. Dozens of them, pale and rotted. Some of them thin and bony, others swollen and twisted. They weren't its own—they were stolen. Taken from other corpses and grafted onto its body in an abomination of flesh and bone.
Then—it passed over the groaning corpse.
There was no sound but a sickening squelch as the corpse vanished beneath the creature's body. Its ribbed, pulsating center expanded, sucking the body into itself like a leech.
Ren's stomach churned.
He turned to flee, but it was too late.
A hand. No, a whole arm—lashed out like a whip and wrapped around his left forearm with bone-crunching strength. It wouldn't let go.
Ren screamed and pulled, yanking back with all his strength. He stabbed down at the arm repeatably, but it didn't work.
It was going to drag him in.
And so—he made the only choice he had left.
With a raspy yell, Ren raised the dagger high and turned the blade toward his own arm.
He drove it down—again, and again, and again.
Blood sprayed.
Flesh split.
Bone cracked.
Until Ren completely dismembered the arm.
The thing didn't respond to Ren breaking free, taking his ripped arm into its center.
Ren clenched his teeth in agony, blood spewing from the wound.
"Mama!"
He didn't look back.
"Mama!"
He didn't wait.
"Help me!"
He just ran.
Outside the cave, Ren sprinted away, holding his hand against the fresh wound.
"Run! Run! Just run. Don't think! Not now!"
He fled deep into the trees, exactly where he had first tried to escape.
And then—
His foot caught on something.
Thud
Ren hit the ground hard, not able to catch himself with only one arm.
"Child..."
He looked over to the voice where he had tripped.
It was one of the bodies that hung from the trees, its head twisted in a way not humanly possible, but now laid on the ground before him.
"Child, listen..." It gasped out, its voice rasping through the dead air. "She's...inside everything. She sees through sorrow. You must—"
Before it could finish speaking, its arm jerked up with a gruesome snap and shoved its hand through the bottom of its jaw, up through its skull. Its body convulsed, silenced.
Behind him—a presence.
Ren turned slowly, his eyes widening at the sight.
It wasn't whole. It wasn't physical.
But it was shaped like a woman—tall, graceful. It was draped in a robe that drifted like smoke. With the face of a void, it stretched its hands outward to him.
The Mother of Sorrow.
She didn't speak with sound. Her voice entered him like a soft breath.
"Poor, little soul." Her nurturing voice entered his mind. "Why do you reject me?"
"It's you..." Ren knew the voice.
How could he not? It was the same voice that had tortured him this whole time.
He couldn't move; his eyes widened on the shadow.
She glided beside him.
"You could be free...Ren." Mother whispered, maternally caressing his cheek. "A place where you are free. Where there's no pain. Where you're loved..."
In that moment, the forest around them flickered.
And suddenly—he was somewhere else.
Not the endless forest, but inside a house.
A home
It was warm. It was comforting.
The scent of baked bread and old wood wrapped around him like a blanket.
In the kitchen, a mother and father held each other—soft laughter between them as they swayed to a song only they could hear.
In the living room, children giggled—four of them huddled together on the rug. Their eyes sparkled with joy, and their smiles were effortless.
At the center of them all was an older boy.
Grey hair
Silver eyes
Soft, pale skin that looked vulnerable to touch.
It was Ren.
Not this version—broken, bloodied, missing pieces of himself.
But whole
Healthy
Alive
He was laughing, smiling as the kids surrounded him. His arms outstretched as the children tackled him in play, shouting his name like it was the sun.
He blinked.
Once
Twice
"This...isn't real." His voice caught in his throat, tears running down from his eyes. "This...can never be real."
"But it could..." Mother spoke in a comforting tone. "This could be your new life."
Ren clenched his fists, tears dripping to the living room floor.
And then—
He stepped toward the kitchen.
And that's when they noticed.
They turned just after he stepped past them.
All of them. The children, the other Ren, they all went silent and watched him.
As if something had ruptured the illusion.
As if he had just broken in.
There, Ren stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes glued to the floor, unable to look the woman in the eye. The mom turned at his entrance.
"Sweetheart?" Her voice was so real. So nice and motherly. "Are you hungry?"
The other Ren's eyes widened as if he knew what was about to happen.
"Come on, sweetie. What's wrong?"
Her voice was so gentle to his ears.
She fully turned to him, her arms outstretched to hug him.
And without a word—
He ran to her.
As she leaned in, fully embracing him in her motherly hold, the dagger sank into her chest.
"Why?!" The mother questioned in betrayal.
Her eyes went wide, not with pain—but with something hollow. She cracked—like porcelain—splintering from the wound outward.
The warmth died out. The kitchen darkened.
Shadows leaked from the corners of the room. The floorboards tore. The family disintegrated into nothing. The walls collapsed, swallowed by shadows.
Then, the forest returned in a flicker, cold and grey.