forest of broken things

Chapter Three: Forest of Broken Things

The forest was not what Nathaniel remembered.

It had been years since he'd last set foot in the tangled woods behind the manor. As children, he and Samuel had spent endless hours beneath its canopy, running through sunlit trails and crafting fantastical stories about the creatures they imagined lived there. But now, the forest seemed darker, heavier. The air clung to his skin, damp and suffocating, and the sunlight barely pierced through the dense lattice of branches above.

Nathaniel hesitated at the edge of the treeline, the memory of the mysterious note fresh in his mind. The answers you seek lie buried in the past. Return to the place you fear most.

He adjusted the pendant around his neck, its once comforting weight now a cold and unfamiliar presence. The faint etchings on its surface seemed to pulse faintly, though he couldn't be sure if it was a trick of the light or his own mounting anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel stepped forward. The first few steps were hesitant, his boots crunching softly on the carpet of fallen leaves and twigs. The forest seemed to welcome him reluctantly, its branches curling inward as if to close off his retreat.

He followed the old path, though it was barely recognizable now. Over the years, nature had reclaimed it, twisting roots breaking through the earth and brambles encroaching from every side. The route was familiar in its outline but alien in its details. A gnarled tree stood where there had once been a smooth-barked oak, and the creek they'd often played by was now choked with moss and algae, its once clear waters stagnant and foul.

Nathaniel pressed onward, his breath quickening as the memories resurfaced. He could almost hear Samuel's voice, playful and teasing, daring him to venture deeper into the woods. But there was another memory, darker and more elusive, that lurked just beyond his grasp—something he had buried long ago, along with his brother's disappearance.

The clearing came into view suddenly, like an ambush. Nathaniel stumbled into it, his heart pounding as he scanned the familiar yet distorted space. The small, circular patch of grass was still there, surrounded by towering trees that seemed to lean inward, their branches interlocking like a cage.

This was where they had last played together.

His gaze fell to the ground, where a broken wooden plank lay half-buried beneath the grass. He knelt and brushed away the dirt, revealing the remnants of the old treehouse ladder. The sight sent a pang through his chest.

The treehouse had been their sanctuary, a refuge from the world and its expectations. They had built it together, piece by piece, high up in the tallest tree in the clearing. But now, the tree was hollowed and scorched, as though struck by lightning. Only the faint outline of the structure remained, a skeleton of its former self.

Nathaniel stood, wiping his hands on his coat. The clearing was eerily silent, the usual chorus of birds and insects absent. The stillness unnerved him, but it wasn't just the quiet that put him on edge. It was the feeling that he wasn't alone.

The pendant around his neck grew colder, sending a shiver down his spine. He turned slowly, scanning the shadows that clung to the trees like shrouds. At first, there was nothing—just the oppressive darkness and the twisted shapes of branches. But then he saw it: a figure standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden by the trees.

Nathaniel froze, his breath catching in his throat. The figure was tall and indistinct, its features obscured by the shadows. It didn't move, but Nathaniel felt its gaze, heavy and unyielding.

"Who's there?" he called, his voice breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

The figure stepped closer, the movement so fluid it seemed to glide rather than walk. As it neared, Nathaniel could make out more details—a long, tattered cloak that billowed around it despite the still air, and hands that were unnaturally thin, the fingers elongated and claw-like.

Nathaniel took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his legs felt rooted to the ground. The figure raised a hand, pointing toward the treehouse.

"What do you want?" Nathaniel managed, his voice trembling.

The figure's hand lowered, and it tilted its head as if studying him. Then, it spoke—not in words but in a soundless whisper that seemed to bypass his ears and echo directly in his mind.

"You already know."

A chill ran down Nathaniel's spine. The voice was familiar, though he couldn't place it. His heart pounded as he turned to look at the remains of the treehouse. Something inside him stirred—a fragment of memory struggling to surface.

Suddenly, the pendant around his neck burned against his skin. Nathaniel cried out, clutching it as pain shot through his chest. The figure watched him, unmoving, as the world around him seemed to shift. The trees blurred, their shapes twisting into grotesque forms. The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, as if it were trying to swallow him whole.

Nathaniel fell to his knees, gasping for air. The whispers grew louder, overlapping and incomprehensible, filling his mind with a cacophony of voices. Images flashed before his eyes: Samuel laughing as he climbed the treehouse ladder, the two of them sitting together beneath its canopy, a stormy night when the wind howled through the forest and lightning illuminated the clearing.

And then, the image of Samuel standing in the clearing, his face pale and his eyes wide with terror, as a shadow loomed behind him.

Nathaniel's head snapped up, his eyes darting toward the broken tree. The figure was gone, but the sense of being watched remained. He forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling. The whispers had stopped, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake.

He approached the base of the tree, his breath shallow. Something compelled him to dig, though he couldn't explain why. His hands moved on their own, clawing at the dirt with a desperation that bordered on madness.

After what felt like hours, his fingers hit something solid. He paused, his chest heaving, and cleared away the remaining dirt. A small wooden box lay buried beneath the roots, its surface weathered and cracked.

Nathaniel hesitated, his hands hovering over the box. Every instinct told him to leave it alone, to walk away and never look back. But he couldn't. Something inside him needed to know.

He opened the box.

Inside was a single, worn photograph. Nathaniel's breath caught as he picked it up, his fingers trembling. It was a picture of him and Samuel, taken in front of the treehouse. They were smiling, their arms around each other, but there was something wrong.

In the background, just barely visible, was the shadowy figure.

Nathaniel dropped the photograph, his heart racing. The pendant around his neck pulsed again, its cold weight a reminder of the note that had brought him here. The figure's words echoed in his mind: "You already know."

Suddenly, the ground beneath him shifted. The roots of the tree twisted, snaking toward him like living things. Nathaniel scrambled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The clearing seemed to close in around him, the trees leaning closer, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands.

He turned and ran.

The forest was no longer silent. The whispers had returned, louder now, chasing him through the tangled undergrowth. They spoke his name, a chorus of voices that sounded both familiar and alien.

Nathaniel stumbled, his foot catching on a root, and he fell hard, the air knocked from his lungs. He rolled onto his back, gasping, and froze.

The figure was there, standing over him, its face obscured by shadows. But this time, it wasn't alone.

Dozens of figures emerged from the darkness, their forms flickering like dying flames. Their faces were blank, their eyes hollow, but Nathaniel could feel their gaze, piercing and unrelenting.

He scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. The forest seemed alive now, the trees shifting and groaning as the figures closed in.

Nathaniel's hands tightened around the pendant. He didn't know what it was or why he had it, but it felt like the only thing grounding him to reality.

The figures stopped, their movements synchronized as they tilted their heads in unison. The whispers fell silent, replaced by a low, guttural growl that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Nathaniel backed away, his heart pounding. He didn't dare look away, but he could feel the forest closing in around him, the trees pressing closer, their branches forming a cage.

And then, the figure spoke again, its voice a cold, rasping whisper that cut through the air like a blade.

"You cannot run from the past, Nathaniel. It will always find you."

The ground beneath him gave way, and Nathaniel fell, the world dissolving into darkness.