The sun had barely risen when we set out again, still following the dim trail that seemed to stretch endlessly before us. The land was barren, and with each step, the air grew thicker, colder. There were no signs of life—no rustling leaves, no animal sounds. Just the hollow whisper of wind against the desolate landscape.
Mirek had been quiet for a while, walking slightly ahead of us, his back hunched beneath the weight of a past he couldn't escape. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was with the precision of someone who had seen too much.
I was exhausted. The journey through the forest had been grueling, and the world outside didn't seem any better. I could feel the weight of our situation pressing down on me, the quiet tension between the three of us. Kaelen, always composed, seemed distant, like his mind was elsewhere. Seonwoo, ever vigilant, kept his eyes on the horizon, his movements sharp and precise.
But it was Mirek's presence that was the most unsettling. He was too calm, too knowing. There was a quiet desperation in his eyes, but he hid it well beneath layers of deflection and apathy.
"How much farther?" I asked, the question hanging in the air like a fragile thread.
Mirek didn't look back at me but his voice rang out, as steady as ever.
"You think there's a destination here? You're too caught up in looking for one. There is no end to Refuge. It goes on until you forget who you were."
His words were like a cold slap against my determination, but I refused to let them sink in. I had to keep moving. We all had to.
"We have to get out of here, Mirek," Seonwoo said, his voice carrying an edge of frustration. "There has to be a way out."
Mirek stopped for a moment, glancing back at us over his shoulder.
"There is, but you won't find it the way you're looking for. Refuge doesn't let you leave... not without a cost."
I clenched my fists at my sides, suppressing the anger that bubbled up inside me.
"What do you mean by that? Do you know a way out or not?"
Mirek's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in them. Regret, maybe. Or was it pity?
"I've seen many like you—determined, strong, sure they'll be the ones to break free. But Refuge doesn't care for your plans. You'll only break yourself trying to escape. It takes something from you, piece by piece."
I shook my head, unwilling to accept his words.
"You're wrong. We're different. We have to be."
"Then prove it," Mirek muttered, turning away and continuing his trek forward.
"You're still here, aren't you?"
We didn't speak again for a long time. The silence between us grew heavier, and the more I thought about Mirek's words, the more they gnawed at me. Was he right? Was there truly no way out of this place?
As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the barren earth, we came upon a small cluster of ruins. It was a strange, almost dreamlike sight—broken stone walls, remnants of some ancient structure, overgrown with creeping vines. Mirek didn't seem surprised by the sight.
"This is where they come," Mirek said quietly, his gaze sweeping over the ruins. "The ones who can't leave. They think this place will give them peace, but it doesn't. It only takes more."
I looked around at the ruins, the creeping vines, the empty silence.
"Who are they?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mirek paused, his face hardening.
"The lost. The ones who gave up. The ones who were too broken to keep moving. They come here to die."
A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of it. I could feel the weight of those words in my chest.
"Then we can't stop here. We can't afford to be like them."
"We won't," Seonwoo said, his voice steady, like a promise.
But Mireks's expression softened, almost as if he knew something we didn't.
"You think you'll be the ones who make it? Maybe. But don't fool yourselves. Refuge doesn't let you win. It doesn't care who you are, what you want. In the end, it decides."
As we pushed onward, the weight of Mirek's words lingered in the air. The further we traveled, the more the land seemed to drain us, sapping the energy from our bones. We were hungry, thirsty, but M didn't seem bothered. He simply moved, like someone who had long since accepted the inevitable.
It wasn't until later that night, as we gathered around a small fire, that I saw something shift in Mirek. For a brief moment, his guard slipped.
"You don't know what it's like," he said, his voice softer than usual. "To be stuck here. To watch everything and everyone fade away. But... you will. If you stay long enough."
I stared at him, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face.
"And how long have you been here?"
Mirek didn't answer right away. He just stared into the fire, his expression unreadable.
"A long time," he finally said. "Long enough to know that there's no escaping the truth."
I didn't push him further. His words were too heavy, too final.
The fire crackled softly as the night settled in, the stars overhead barely visible through the thick layers of smoke that still lingered in the air. The wind had picked up again, swirling around us, but there was a strange stillness in the atmosphere as if even the land was holding its breath.
Mirek had been more vocal than usual, explaining things in a way that made my stomach churn, a mix of dread and disbelief.
"Some come here searching for peace," M said, his voice low, almost as if he were speaking to the fire itself. "Others… they were driven here by fear, or by desperation. They're the ones who couldn't outrun their pasts. Refuge doesn't care what you did before. It doesn't matter if you were a saint or a sinner. Here, everyone's the same—lost."
Seonwoo, who had been scanning the distance with a cold, calculating gaze, finally spoke up, his voice edged with frustration.
"So, what? You're saying we're just stuck here because of some curse or fate? That's what you believe?"
Mirek's face remained unreadable.
"No. Not fate. It's… the story. The one that keeps bringing people here. Some say it's the world's way of balancing itself out. Others believe it's just the price for surviving too long in a place like this. I've seen it happen—people arrive here with no memory of who they were or how they got here. And then they become part of the cycle. They start believing in legends. They start searching for something that doesn't exist."
I swallowed, his words settling heavy in the pit of my stomach. The idea of being trapped in a never-ending loop, forever lost in a place like this, was terrifying. And the thought that there was no real escape... it gnawed at me, the fear taking root.
Before I could respond, Mirek spoke again, his tone distant, almost wistful.
"There's a legend about a city beyond the barren lands. Some believe that if you reach it, you can break the cycle. It's called 'The City of Forgotten Names.' But no one who's ever gone looking for it has returned. The city is said to be a place where all your memories are wiped clean, and in exchange, you're granted one last chance to leave."
I stared at Mirek, trying to digest his words.
"So, if we reach this city… we can leave?"
Mirek gave a small, bitter laugh.
"That's what they say. But I'm not sure anyone truly wants to leave. Not when they understand what it means to get there."
A silence fell over the group as we each processed the implications of his words. My mind was racing, piecing together the fractured details of everything that had happened so far. The forest, the monsters, the strange, twisted reality we were in—it all seemed so... futile. But the idea of this city, of escaping—it lingered in the back of my mind, like a glimmer of hope.
The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken thoughts. Eventually, we laid down for the night, the exhaustion settling in like a weight on my chest. But sleep didn't come easily. Instead, my mind churned with the thoughts of the book—the book that had been with me since I first arrived in this world.
I reached into my bag, my fingers brushing against the familiar texture of the worn leather. Opening it, I felt the usual chill that accompanied its presence. The pages were old, the ink faint, but it always felt alive in my hands. It had a purpose, one that I still couldn't fully understand.
Flipping through the pages, I felt a strange pull, as if the book was guiding me. It stopped on a page I hadn't seen before, a part of the story I didn't recognize. The words, though faded, were still legible.
"The forest was a trap. They had stumbled into the heart of it, unaware of the dangers that lurked just beneath the surface. The path they walked was one of illusion, crafted to lead them deeper into the darkness, until escape seemed impossible. And yet, even as they struggled against the unseen enemies, they pressed on, knowing that the only way out was through the heart of the storm."
I swallowed hard as I read the passage. The words felt too familiar—too real. This was the story of Kaelen and me, the very events we had lived through. I turned the page, the paper rustling softly in the quiet.
"But as they stumbled out of the forest, weakened and battered, they found themselves in a barren land—empty, desolate, without hope. It was here they would encounter a mysterious trader, one who held the answers to their survival. He would offer them the means to move forward, but at a cost."
I paused, my heart racing. I looked up, glancing at Seonwoo and Kaelen, who were both deep in their own thoughts. Was this the same trader we had met?
My hand trembled as I turned the page again.
"The trader spoke of the City of Forgotten Names. He warned them of its dangers, but also of its promise. It was a place where all memories were erased, where one could find peace—if they were willing to pay the price. And so, they journeyed on, led by the hope that the city would be their salvation."
A cold chill ran down my spine as I closed the book. The story was so eerily similar to our own journey. The trader, the barren land, the promise of the city—it all felt too real. But what was the cost? What price would we have to pay?
I looked over at Mirek, who had fallen silent. His gaze seemed distant, lost in thought. Did he know about this city? Did he know what it would cost?
"What do you think about the legend?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mirek turned to face me, his eyes unreadable.
"I think the legend is just that—a story. People come here looking for answers, looking for something to cling to, but in the end, they're just looking for a way out of their own minds. Refuge doesn't let you leave with your soul intact. If you make it to the city, you'll forget everything—everything you were, everything you wanted to be. It's not freedom. It's just another form of escape."
I met his eyes, my heart heavy with doubt.
"And you think we'll fall into that same trap?"
Mirek didn't answer right away. He just stared at me, his expression hardening.
"If you're not careful, you'll wish you had."
As I lay back down, the weight of his words settled over me. The city, the legend, the book—all of it felt like a tangled web that we couldn't escape from. But we had no choice. We had to keep moving forward. Even if the cost was more than we could pay.