The capital disappeared sometime after noon.
Not all at once.
First the walls vanished.
Then the towers.
Then the roads stopped pretending to be roads.
By sunset there was only dirt.
Trees.
And wagon tracks.
Phthisis sat near the back wagon sharpening a knife he had no intention of using.
The edge was already fine.
It remained fine.
The knife received another thirty minutes of attention regardless.
—
The prince had spent most of the day talking.
Nobody seemed interested.
That did not stop him.
"So what exactly did you do before this?"
Phthisis looked up.
Korath had somehow migrated from the front of the convoy to the rear again.
"A bit of everythin'."
"Such as?"
"Roof repairs."
Korath nodded.
"Useful."
"Soup."
Korath nodded again.
"Less useful."
"Card games."
"Aha."
The prince pointed.
"A criminal."
"Aye."
Korath laughed.
Nobody else did.
—
The forest appeared shortly after.
Not Red Rain.
Something before it.
The trees grew closer together.
Branches reached further.
The road narrowed.
Conversation shortened.
One of the escorts stopped singing.
Nobody asked him to.
He simply stopped.
—
By evening they made camp.
The fire was small.
Phthisis noticed that immediately.
There was enough wood for three.
They built one.
Nobody complained.
—
The veteran stoneblood walked the perimeter twice.
Then three times.
Then a fourth.
The route never changed.
The order never changed.
The distance never changed.
Yet she walked it again.
And again.
And again.
Phthisis watched her from beside the fire.
The stew boiled.
Nobody touched it.
—
A hunter eventually broke the silence.
"Another day."
The stoneblood nodded.
"Another day."
The conversation ended there.
Apparently that had been enough.
—
The smell arrived sometime after midnight.
Not strong.
Not fresh.
Old.
Like a knife forgotten in a butcher's sink.
Phthisis opened one eye.
The smell lingered.
Then left.
Then returned.
The wind had changed direction.
—
Morning came.
The birds did not.
Phthisis noticed around breakfast.
The forest still moved.
Leaves still rustled.
Branches still swayed.
The insects remained.
But there were no birds.
Not one.
He chewed a piece of stale bread.
That was unusual.
—
Around noon they found an old campsite.
The ashes had long gone cold.
A rusted cooking pot sat half-buried beside a tree.
Nobody stopped.
Nobody investigated.
Nobody even looked.
The convoy passed it without a word.
Phthisis looked back.
The pot disappeared behind the trees.
The trees remained.
—
By evening the smell had grown stronger.
Blood.
Not enough to overpower the forest.
Just enough to sit beneath it.
Waiting.
—
The first red tree appeared before sunset.
Korath noticed immediately.
"That's unusual."
One of the hunters opened his mouth.
Then thought better of it.
Nobody answered.
The second tree appeared five minutes later.
Then a third.
Then a hundred.
The bark wasn't red.
Not exactly.
The colour sat somewhere between rust and dried blood.
The deeper the convoy travelled, the more trees changed.
Soon there were no ordinary trees left.
—
The road curved.
Then curved again.
Then split.
The guide chose the left path.
No hesitation.
No discussion.
As if there had never been another option.
—
Phthisis glanced behind them.
The second path was gone.
Only trees.
He looked twice.
The result remained the same.
He looked ahead.
The guide continued walking.
Nobody else appeared surprised.
So he kept walking too.
—
Night settled over Red Rain.
The campfire was smaller than yesterday.
Half the size.
Maybe less.
Nobody mentioned it.
—
A twig snapped somewhere beyond the trees.
Nobody reached for a weapon.
Nobody stood.
Nobody spoke.
The sound came again.
Then stopped.
The silence afterward felt heavier than the sound itself.
—
Phthisis lay back against a fallen root.
The canopy hid the stars.
Not unusual.
Just inconvenient.
Something brushed against his boot.
A root.
Probably.
The root wasn't there when he sat down.
He looked again.
It was.
He must have missed it.
His eyes closed.
The smell of blood lingered beneath the smell of rain.
Somewhere in the dark, wood creaked.
Slowly.
Like something enormous shifting its weight and deciding not to move.