The silence that followed the arrow's strike was heavier than the fog itself.
It was not an ordinary silence. It was suffocating—like the entire forest was holding its breath, waiting for something that had not yet arrived.
The echo of the impact lingered for a brief moment among the rocks before the dense trees swallowed it whole. After that, nothing remained except Amazal's ragged breathing.
Each breath was harsh and painful, as if every inhale scraped through lungs filled with shards of stone. He had run until his legs nearly gave way beneath him before throwing himself behind a massive boulder draped in thick, dark moss. His bruised back pressed against the cold stone, and the chill seeped through his torn clothes into his skin.
His hands trembled as he clutched the chains binding his wrists.
He tried to keep them still, but the iron was heavy, and even the slightest movement produced a faint metallic clink.
A small sound…
Yet in this place, it rang like a bell announcing his presence to whatever lurked within the fog.
Amazal swallowed his dry throat and peered through the dense grey mist.
The fog was not still.
It drifted slowly between the towering tree trunks, coiling around them like a living thing, sliding over rocks and through damp undergrowth. And somewhere deep within it, something else was moving as well.
Something enormous.
Far within the forest, a thick branch snapped with a dull crack.
Amazal froze.
That was not the sound of a man.
The footsteps were heavy… slow… each one making the earth tremble faintly beneath them.
He whispered to himself, barely audible.
"Giants…"
He had heard the stories.
Every soldier in Aglid had.
The island of Tizra was not merely a place of exile.
It was a living grave.
A place where the empire sent those it wished to discard… without staining its own hands with their blood.
The forest devoured the rest.
Amazal felt his heart hammer violently against his ribs.
And when his chains rattled again, the voice came from above him.
"If you keep trembling like that, the rattle of your chains will wake things that have been sleeping here for centuries."
Amazal froze.
The voice was low… gravelly… calm in a way that chilled the bone.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His eyes cut through the fog until they found a figure seated atop a jagged limestone pillar.
The man had been there the entire time.
Watching him.
He looked less like a man and more like a ghost born from the forest itself. Weathered furs and worn leather wrapped his body, as if gathered from a dozen different beasts. His skin was tanned to the color of old parchment, and his dark hair was tied back with a thin strip of leather.
But what caught Amazal's attention most were his eyes.
Cold.
Sharp.
The eyes of a hunter weighing his prey before deciding whether it was worth the arrow.
In his hand rested a longbow carved from dark wood, nearly black.
The man said nothing for several moments.
Then he leapt from the stone pillar.
He landed among the jagged rocks with the silent grace of a mountain cat that knew exactly where to place its feet.
Almost no sound at all.
He approached slowly.
This was Ikida.
He did not look like a victim of exile.
He looked like something the island itself had forged.
Amazal tried to speak, but his voice came out cracked and dry.
"W–who are you?"
Ikida did not answer immediately.
He stopped in front of him and studied his face for a long moment, as if reading something written there.
Then he spoke quietly.
"Five years."
His voice was soft, yet the words fell heavily into the air.
"Five years I've watched men fall upon these shores. Most of them don't last the first hour. They run until their hearts burst… or they scream until the beasts of Tizra find them."
He lifted his gaze to Amazal.
"And you…"
He paused briefly.
Then said,
"You just keep rattling those chains."
Amazal lowered his gaze to the shackles around his wrists.
The heavy iron bore a clear mark.
The seal of Aglid.
Ikida noticed it too.
Suddenly he reached out and grabbed the chain between Amazal's wrists.
He did not help him up.
Instead, he lifted the iron slightly, examining it.
His finger traced the engraved seal.
Then he exhaled a short, bitter scoff.
"Aglid still sends its finest to die in the mud."
He shook his head slightly.
"Pathetic."
Amazal looked back at him.
"You've been here… five years?"
He hesitated.
"Alone?"
Ikida gave a faint smile devoid of warmth.
"Survival isn't about company, soldier."
He gestured toward the forest.
"It's about silence."
At that moment
The ground trembled.
Not an earthquake.
A rhythm.
Slow.
Heavy.
Thud…
Thud…
Thud…
Small pebbles shivered around their feet.
The color drained from Amazal's face.
"They're coming… aren't they?"
Ikida suddenly crouched and placed two fingers on the soil.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Then opened them.
"Not yet."
He rose slowly.
"But they can hear you."
Amazal's eyes widened.
"Hear… what?"
Ikida looked directly at his chest.
"Your fear."
He pointed with his bow toward a narrow path between the trees.
Their branches were covered in a strange layer of silver-grey moss that seemed to faintly shimmer even in the dim light.
"We go that way."
Amazal stiffened.
"But…"
He gestured toward the fog behind them.
"The arrow came from that direction."
He swallowed.
"The ones hunting me…"
His voice dropped.
"They're close."
Ikida did not move.
His gaze remained fixed on the silver trees.
Then he said calmly,
"They know these woods better than you know your own name."
He paused.
"They want your blood."
Then added,
"But they won't follow us past those trees."
Amazal looked at the silver moss.
"Why?"
Ikida remained silent for a long moment.
Then said quietly,
"I don't know."
But the way he said it made Amazal feel he knew far more than he was willing to say.
Ikida pointed again with his bow.
"In five years…"
His eyes lingered on the boundary of the silver moss.
"I've never seen a hunter cross it."
Even when their prey stood on the other side.
Amazal swallowed.
"Is it… cursed?"
Ikida did not answer.
Instead, he set another arrow to his bow.
Then said coldly,
"Follow my shadow."
He began moving toward the narrow path.
Then added without looking back,
"Stay low."
He paused.
"And if you value your tongue…"
He turned at last.
"Don't make a sound."
He gestured toward the ground.
"In Tizra, the walls have ears."
Then to the damp soil beneath their feet.
"And the ground…"
He said the last word slowly.
"…is hungry."
Amazal tried to stand.
His legs trembled violently.
Yet he forced himself upright.
He did not know if he could trust this man.
But in a land filled with giants and death…
A survivor was the closest thing to a lord of Tizra he was likely to find.
He followed Ikida into the forest.
The fog swallowed them slowly.
And as they disappeared into the suffocating green of the jungle, Amazal realized the captain had been right.
The island had already begun to unmask him.
And with every step toward the trees draped in silver moss…
he felt the island revealing its true face.
But if he was lucky
with Ikida guiding the way
he might live long enough to see what lay beneath it.