Requiem of the Forgotten

We didn’t talk about Grava.

Not once.

The road felt like it stretched forever, winding through silent woods and a sky that never brightened. Even in daylight, the forest here was dense—twisting trunks covered in dark moss, roots curling like claws across the path. The trees leaned inward, hunched like they were listening. Judging.

No birds.

No animals.

Just us.

And the weight we carried.

I walked near the back. Brynn and Mira stayed ahead. Leif moved like a shadow beside them, boots soft on the dirt. Toma hadn’t said a word since we left the village.

I couldn’t tell if that made me feel better or worse.

My body still hurt. The cut on my side burned when I breathed too deep, and the bandages Mira had wrapped there were already spotted with blood.

But I didn’t complain.

I couldn’t.

Not after what I’d done.

Or failed to do.

We came to a small clearing just before noon.

And that’s when it started.

Brynn raised a hand, halting all of us. “Don’t move.”

His voice was calm—but sharp.

Leif stepped closer. “Is it a—?”

Before he could finish, the ground shook.

A low rumble. Barely noticeable. Like something massive had just taken a step.

Then another.

And another.

I looked around, heart starting to climb out of my chest.

The forest had gone dead still.

Toma cursed. “Shit. No way.”

He reached for his sword and glanced back at me.

“Aleks. Stay behind someone.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Leif pulled out his blades. “Forest Warden.”

“Forest—what?”

No one answered.

They didn’t need to.

Because I saw it.

It stepped between two trees like it didn’t give a damn how thick the trunks were—just pushed through them like brushing past curtains.

It was massive.

At least three meters tall. Its body was built like a knight in armor, but not metal—bark, moss, bone. Vines crawled over its limbs like veins. Antlers curled from its head like twisted branches. Where its face should’ve been was a hollow, gaping hole. Not eyes. Just dark emptiness, as if the forest itself stared through it.

And growing from its back—

Trees.

Small ones. Twisted. Dead.

The Warden stopped.

It smelled us.

Then it roared.

The sound wasn’t loud. It was low. Deep. Like the earth itself was growling.

Then it charged.

Toma was the first to move.

He dashed forward with a yell, Essence bursting around his feet like smoke. His blade gleamed red—no flame, just heat—and slammed against the Warden’s arm.

A clang like steel hitting stone echoed through the trees.

Mira shot past him, flipping over a root, knives glinting as she slashed toward its side. She moved like water—graceful, violent.

Leif followed, his movements sharp and controlled, using momentum instead of strength.

I just stood there.

Frozen.

Watching.

Because I didn’t know what the fuck I was looking at.

“USE YOUR ESSENCE!” Mira shouted between swings.

I didn’t answer.

I could barely breathe.

Brynn stood beside me, his staff glowing faintly. “Aleks. Now would be a good time for another miracle.”

I shook my head. “I—I can’t. It’s not working.”

“Then try harder!”

But nothing came.

No light.

No warmth.

Nothing.

I clenched my fists and cursed under my breath.

Useless.

The Warden let out a guttural grunt and slammed its arm downward. A root burst from the ground like a whip, crashing into Toma’s chest and flinging him into a tree.

He grunted but got back up, wiping blood from his lip.

“Bastard’s tougher than I thought!”

“It’s reinforcing with outer Essence,” Mira called, dodging another strike. “Aim for the core!”

“What core?! It’s a fucking tree!”

“Exactly! Burn it!”

Leif dashed in low and slashed across the Warden’s leg. The blade cut through bark, exposing a deep pulsing green underneath—thick and wet.

It howled.

Its massive arm twisted unnaturally, swinging toward Leif.

But Brynn moved first.

His staff slammed into the ground.

A ring of violet light rippled outward.

Roots near the Warden cracked and burst into flames—controlled, localized. Magical fire, not wild.

The Warden shrieked and stumbled back.

It tried to retreat—too late.

Toma circled behind, raised his sword, and plunged it into the exposed green beneath the armor of moss and bark.

A tremor went through the creature.

Then—

Collapse.

It fell forward, shaking the ground as it hit.

Silence.

Heavy, exhausted silence.

I let out a shaky breath and collapsed to my knees, heart still pounding like I’d just sprinted for miles.

The others stood around the body, panting, checking wounds.

Brynn turned toward the corpse and tapped it with his staff. “Still warm. Should be good for extraction.”

Leif sheathed his blades and looked at me. “You alright?”

I nodded.

Didn’t feel like it.

But I nodded anyway.

We dragged the Forest Warden’s corpse off the main path, leaning its massive trunk-like limbs against a fallen log. Up close, the thing looked even more unsettling—like a broken marionette made of bark, moss, and something wetter underneath. Slivers of green fluid seeped from a dozen wounds, staining the grass with a sour smell. Toma grimaced as he jammed his sword into a gap, trying to pry loose a piece of armor-like bark.

“We can sell these plates,” he said, straining. “Guild pays decent for Warden hide.”

Leif knelt beside him, knifing away a chunk of vine that snaked across the creature’s chest. “If we’re lucky, they’ll go for a premium. I heard some blacksmiths use it to craft armor with natural Essence resonance.” He paused and glanced at me. “Assuming we ever make it to a proper guild station.”

Mira wiped her daggers on a rag, scowling at the body. “Damn thing nearly took our heads off. I’ve seen Wardens before, but not this fierce.”

Brynn stood to one side, tapping his staff lightly on the ground. He watched them carve up the remains, yet his eyes kept drifting to me as if waiting for something else to happen. Maybe he thought I’d pull another miracle out of my ass. I pretended not to notice.

I was still reeling from the fight. The way they moved, how they channeled their power—inner, outer, I didn’t know the difference. All I knew was that whatever I did back in Grava wouldn’t come when I called. I was the least useful person here, yet somehow the center of attention. It made my stomach knot.

When they finished, Toma strapped a bundle of bark plates to his back. He gave me a once-over. “You look like you don’t even know what a Warden is.”

I shrugged, too tired to bluff. “I don’t.”

Leif snorted. “This area’s crawling with them. Thought you folks from the ‘outside’ would know at least the basics.”

I shook my head, face burning. “I’m… not exactly from around here.”

“No shit,” Mira snapped. “You act like you got dropped out of the sky with no clue about anything. Monsters, Essence, the godsdamn layout of the land. You sure you’re not suicidal?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat. She wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t explain how everything worked in my head. For me, reality used to be cars and cellphones. Now it was giant tree monsters and Holy Essence. And I had no idea how to reconcile the two.

Brynn clapped a hand on my shoulder—lightly, but it still made me jump. “Let’s not grill him like a bandit prisoner. We got bigger problems. Here—” He motioned at a cluster of mossy stumps. “Sit. It’s time we talk. Properly.”

We settled onto the makeshift seats, forming a rough circle in the shade. The air felt damp and cool. Sunbeams filtered through the canopy, catching drifting motes of dust and making them glow like embers in the gloom. For a moment, it looked almost peaceful.

Toma set his sword across his lap. “Fine. I’ll start. Name’s Toma. Thirty-two. Been hunting monsters since I was a teenager. It pays the bills. That’s all.”

He didn’t say more, and I got the feeling he wouldn’t. Straight to the point, no nonsense. Mira rolled her eyes but followed suit.

“I’m Mira,” she said. “I’m twenty-four, from a city called Dreadmark—far south. My mother was a physician. Now I’m a healer who also stabs things, because that’s the world we live in. Next?”

Leif cleared his throat dramatically. “Leif Rook. Twenty-six. Child of a merchant—ran away to avoid a boring desk job. I like coin, I like stories, and I’d rather not die, but if I have to go out, at least let me see something amazing first.” He shot me a grin, but it faded quickly.

“Brynn,” the older man said, tapping his staff. “Age? Old enough to see a few cycles. Occupation? Wandering meddler, I guess. Magic dabbler. Maybe a little more than that. Depends on the day.” His eyes flicked toward me again. “Your turn.”

I swallowed. “Aleks. I’m… sixteen.” The words tasted strange in my mouth. Had it only been months since I was in a normal school, living a normal life? It felt like years. “I was… living in a small place. By a farm. Nothing special. Then everything changed.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Leif raised an eyebrow. “You can do Holy Essence. That’s not exactly nothing special.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” I mumbled. “I can’t control it. I barely even believe it’s real.”

“Bullshit,” Mira hissed. “It’s real. It’s one of the rarest forms of energy conversion in existence. People train decades and never even scratch that level. And you? You just fling it out like a drunken wizard?”

I shook my head, a dull ache forming behind my eyes. “I didn’t choose to. It just… happened.”

Toma eyed me. “Either you’re lying, or you’re clueless. Both are dangerous.”

Brynn exhaled slowly, like he was defusing a bomb. “Look, in this world—everyone has Essence. It’s like a reservoir of potential inside you. Some people focus it inward: strengthening bodies, sharpening reflexes. Others turn it outward for spells, illusions, enchantments. Holy Essence is… different. Rarer. Harder to harness. Usually associated with ancient rites and massive energy costs.”

“And you,” Leif said, pointing at me, “just spat it out like it was nothing. You sure you’re not hiding some royal bloodline or secret monastery training?”

I rubbed my hands together, focusing on the rough calluses. “No. Nothing.”

They didn’t look convinced. I didn’t blame them. Part of me wasn’t convinced either.

Brynn shifted. “If you really can use that kind of power—especially at your age—then the Academy in Reslau’s your best bet. They’re the only ones who can teach you how to handle it. Assuming you can even get in.”

“Won’t that require him to be either noble or extremely recommended?” Toma muttered.

“Probably,” Mira added. “But if he’s that special, maybe they’ll make an exception.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to Reslau anyway.”

They exchanged looks. Leif shrugged. “Well, you’ll have better odds there than out here, playing hero in every cursed village we pass.”

“Speaking of villages,” I said carefully, “is that… normal? What happened in Grava?”

They exchanged another round of glances. Brynn’s face darkened. “Rural life’s harsh. No city guard. No royal support. Sometimes they cling to anything that promises safety or meaning. Even if that ‘god’ is just a monster feeding on them.”

Mira nodded. “It’s not that rare, actually. Just rarely so… horrifying.”

I thought of that mother’s scream, echoing in my ears. My chest tightened. “We… left them behind.”

“We did,” Toma said flatly. “And that’s all we can do.”

The silence returned, thick as the moss under our feet.

Finally, Brynn stood, using his staff for balance. “We should keep moving. Long way to the next town. And I’d prefer not to meet another Warden in the dark.”

Mira hoisted her pack. Leif slung his over his shoulder. Toma adjusted the bark plates.

I just looked at my own empty hands.

No words. No illusions.

“Alright,” I said. “Let’s go.”

The forest swallowed us again as we started down the winding trail. I didn’t know if I felt closer to them or just more exposed, but at least we weren’t silent strangers anymore. And for now, that was enough. The day was still young, and Reslau—far away though it might be—had become more than just a spot on a map.

It was hope.

And I’d need every bit of it.