We thought the forest was the worst of it.
Turns out, nothing is worse than nothing. No shade, no game, no water. Just an endless stretch of cracked earth and wind that whispered in dry tones.
At first, we still had supplies. Rations, some smoked meat from Kaelen's careful preservation, herbs that gave us strange dreams but kept our energy up.
"We should call this place Hell's Welcome Mat,"
Seonwoo muttered one afternoon, poking at a piece of jerky that had turned so dry it could chip a tooth.
I snorted. "More like Purgatory's Waiting Room."Except no one's coming to call our number."
Kaelen didn't even look back. "This isn't funny," he said flatly.
Seonwoo raised a brow. "It's not supposed to be."
You either laugh or choke on the silence," I muttered. "We just picked the quieter way to die."
I said, tossing a rock ahead just to see if it would disturb anything. It didn't. Of course it didn't.
Kaelen didn't laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I've never seen anyone so comfortable in bleakness."
"You get used to it," Seonwoo replied, wiping his forehead. "Just need to pretend your stomach's full of pride instead of food."
We kept walking. The sun never seemed to set fast enough, and when it did, the nights bit into our bones. There were no stars out here. Just silence and grit.
By the fourth day, our last water skin was empty. Kaelen offered his to me first, but I shook my head.
"Split it," I said. "Or I'll throw it into the dirt."
We did. And then there was nothing.
No one joked after that.
Seonwoo grew quieter. Kaelen was distant, even more than usual. I felt every step in my spine. My lips cracked, my breath turned sour, and still we moved forward.
There was no other option.
But on the sixth morning—just as my legs felt ready to give out—I saw something glint on the horizon.
I squinted, blinking away the dust in my eyes. "Do you see that?"
Seonwoo turned. "What?"
"There." I pointed. "Wheels. A cart?"
Kaelen stepped up beside me, shielding his eyes with one hand. "Not a mirage. That's real."
We approached slowly, hands on weapons just in case.
A man sat on the front of a creaking wooden cart, pulled by two lanky, unnatural-looking beasts with too many joints. He was wrapped in layers of cloth, face half-covered, and a wide-brimmed hat shaded his eyes.
"Well, well," the man called, voice rough like gravel. "Didn't expect to find anyone alive out here. You lot look like ghosts."
Seonwoo raised a brow. "And you look like someone with food."
The trader grinned. "Got food, water, even news—though that'll cost extra."
Kaelen stepped forward. "What are you doing out here?"
"Same as everyone," the man replied. "Trying not to die. You buying, or are we gonna stand here playing twenty questions while the sun fries us all?"
I looked at the cart, then at the others. My voice was dry, cracked, but steady.
"What's your price?"
The man's eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, there was something like amusement there—like he knew exactly how desperate we were.
"For what, stranger?" he asked, voice like worn leather. "The food? The water? Or the mercy?"
My jaw tightened. "The food and water."
He tilted his head, eyes skimming over us. "You don't look like you've got much to trade."
"We have weapons," Seonwoo offered. "Steel. Some crystal."
Kaelen stayed quiet, still as stone.
The man clicked his tongue. "Useful, sure... but what I need isn't steel." His eyes landed on me again. "What I want's a memory. Something real. Something painful."
I stared. "What the hell kind of trade is that?"
"The kind that feeds the cart," he said calmly. "One memory, and I'll give you enough to keep moving."
I looked at Seonwoo. Then at Kaelen. Then back to the trader.
"Fine," I said. "Take it."
He raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
I didn't hesitate. "The first time I thought I was safe in this world."
He smiled, slow and hollow. "That'll do."
He reached forward—not with hands, but with something colder, unseen—and the moment cracked in my mind like glass. The memory slipped from me like water, and for a second, I staggered.
Gone. The feeling of safety. The moment I thought this world had something gentle to offer.
"Pleasure doing business," he said, tossing a wrapped bundle of dried meat and two flasks at our feet. "This road doesn't forgive, but sometimes it bargains."
As we picked up the supplies, I felt lighter. Not better. Just... emptier.
Kaelen looked at me then, eyes unreadable. "Was it worth it?"
I met his gaze. "It was already gone."
And we kept walking.
We didn't speak much after that.
The food filled our stomachs just enough to stop the ache, but not enough to ease the tension. The water was stale, metallic, but we drank it like it was holy.
As we walked, I kept trying to remember what exactly I had given up. The trader had said a memory. I'd chosen the first time I felt safe—but the strange thing was, I couldn't even recall when that had been. Or where. Or with who.
There was just a hollow space in my chest where something used to be. Like a painting torn from its frame. The outline was still there, but the colors were gone.
I didn't tell the others. What would I even say?
"Let me know if I start acting different," I muttered to Seonwoo as we trudged uphill.
He glanced sideways. "You mean more irritable than usual?"
I shoved his shoulder lightly, too tired to smirk. "Just... different."
"Noted."
Kaelen didn't join in. He hadn't said a word since the trade. He walked ahead, eyes scanning the horizon like he wanted to get away from the silence—or from us.
The land began to shift under our feet—less barren, more uneven. Jagged ridges rose ahead of us like broken teeth, dark stones jutting from the earth, casting long, crooked shadows under the late sun.
"We're close," Seonwoo murmured. "To something, anyway."
And we were. Just beyond the ridgeline, nestled in the shelter of the rock, lay something unexpected—a crumbling outpost. Stone walls covered in moss. A lookout tower leaning like it had too many secrets. The remnants of a gate, long broken.
A place.
A pause.
We stood at the edge of it in silence, the wind tugging at our cloaks. The air here felt different. Heavier.
"Do we stop here?" Kaelen finally asked, his voice low.
I looked at the ruins. At the weak smoke rising faintly from behind one of the walls.
Someone else was already here.
I narrowed my eyes.
"No," I said. "We go in."
The closer we got, the more wrong it felt.
The outpost was quiet, too quiet. No birds. No buzzing insects. Just the wind, dragging itself across broken stone.
But it wasn't empty.
People moved within the shadows—slow, deliberate, like they were walking underwater. Some sat against the walls, staring at nothing. Others leaned in clusters but didn't speak. Their clothes were ragged, some barely clothed at all. Skin caked in dust and eyes—
Empty.
I stopped just inside the gate, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag.
"They're alive," I whispered, "but they don't look it."
Kaelen stepped beside me, expression hard. "Survivors, maybe."
Seonwoo let out a breath through his nose. "Or what's left of them."
We stood there, unsure if we should step further in. No one seemed to notice us. Or care.
Then someone moved.
A man, thin as bone, approached from the shadows of the tower. He wore an old soldier's coat several sizes too big, sleeves dragging at his sides. His beard was patchy. His gait was uneven, like he'd forgotten how legs were supposed to work.
But his eyes—when they locked onto mine—were sharp. Not hollow like the others.
"You're new," he said, his voice rough with disuse.
I nodded once. "Passing through."
"No one passes through," he said flatly. "You either stop here... or you die somewhere out there."
Seonwoo stepped in, his tone calm but edged. "We're not planning to die."
The man looked between us, then his eyes lingered on Kaelen. "You brought a healer into this place?" He gave a dry laugh. "That's cruel."
Kaelen didn't respond.
I took a step forward. "What is this place?"
The man scratched his beard.
"We called it Refuge, once. Now it's just where the lost collect. People who survived the forest. The desert. The beasts. All roads lead here... eventually."
His voice lowered, almost bitter. "But nothing leads out."
I looked around again. The others—those sitting and swaying and staring—hadn't moved. Some hadn't even blinked.
"What happened to them?" I asked.
The man smiled, slow and empty. "They waited too long."
The man stood still for a long moment, as if choosing his words with care. Then he stepped closer into the light, revealing a face weathered like the ruins around us. Deep lines carved through his sun-darkened skin, and his eyes... they weren't hollow like the others, but they held something just as dangerous.
Acceptance.
"I'm called Mirek," he said, voice hoarse but deliberate. "Not because it means anything anymore. But because names help remind you you're still real."
I stared at him, uneasy. "Are you in charge here?"
He barked a laugh—dry, cracked, joyless.
"No one's in charge in Refuge. That's the point. You come here when you don't belong anywhere else. When you're looking for something that doesn't exist."
He motioned to the others, unmoving as statues.
"They believed this place would give them peace. Answers. Something more. But Refuge doesn't give. It takes."
Kaelen murmured under his breath, "This place is cursed."
Mirek's eyes flicked to him. "Not cursed. Just honest."
I felt a chill crawl down my spine. "You're not like them."
"No. I came here long ago, thinking I could find something," Mirek said. "Meaning, maybe. Or salvation. I stayed long enough to realize Refuge isn't a place. It's a decision."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He looked at me for a long time.
"You only stay if you choose to forget what you were."
His words hit me like a dull blade—blunt, painful, and slow to sink in. I thought of the memory I had traded. The piece of myself I could no longer reach.
Was I already starting to forget?