On the fifth day, the journey came to an end.
After last night, I did not talk to Carlos.
Not once.
I did not look at him either.
Every time he called to me, every time he said my name, I ignored it.
Because ever since I learned what he had wanted to become, something inside me had started to rot.
Something so normal.
So kind.
So painfully human.
It filled me with so much guilt I could barely breathe.
The other me was the only thing I could see clearly now.
Not Knight.
Not Bloody.
Not Lazy.
Not Sleazy.
Him.
The hallucinated version of me walked beside us with his hands folded behind his back, smiling gently, like this was a pleasant morning stroll and not the last stretch before murder.
At some point, he had stopped feeling like a hallucination.
That was the worst part.
He was the only thing keeping me lucid.
As Carlos and I walked across the branch, the only sounds I could focus on were the hollow knock of our boots against living wood and that vile voice whispering in my ear.
"You must kill him."
The ghosts had not vanished completely.
Not exactly.
They were still there, somewhere at the edge of my sight. Faint outlines. Blurred shapes. Half-formed shadows walking beside me through the brightening branch.
Knight's armor.
Lazy's floating shape.
Sleazy's dark coat.
Bloody's red eyes.
But I could not hear them properly anymore.
Only fragments.
"For the future."
"For humanity."
"Before he reaches it."
"Before it reaches him."
Carlos walked ahead of me by a few steps.
He did not have the energy to ask if I was all right anymore.
That was good.
Because I was not.
My hands shook.
My throat burned.
If I had not been so dehydrated, maybe tears would have fallen.
But there was nothing left.
No water.
No food.
No honesty.
Only the promise of the future ringing inside my skull.
And beneath it, softer.
Crueler.
His voice from last night.
"I wanted to become a hero."
That small embarrassed smile.
That stupid, honest, impossible smile.
The guilt wrapped around my soul until it felt like I was being strangled from the inside.
The other me leaned close to my ear.
"You heard him, didn't you?"
I did not answer.
"He wanted to become a hero."
I kept walking.
"How unfortunate."
My nails dug into my palms.
"Shut up," I whispered.
Carlos glanced back.
I looked away before our eyes could meet.
He hesitated.
Then kept walking.
The branch beneath us slowly changed.
The harrowing throat of darkness Carlos and I had descended into finally began to fade. The leaves thinned. The branches loosened. The walls of bark that had crowded around us for days opened bit by bit, letting pale light spill through.
At first, it came in tiny pockets.
Little wounds of sky.
Then wider gaps.
Then entire stretches of blue.
The air shifted.
Cold wind touched my face.
Real wind.
Not the stale breath of the branch-forest.
The smell changed too. Less damp bark. Less rot. Less old magic pressing against my tongue.
For a moment, the world almost felt open again.
Almost.
Then we stepped out from beneath the last curtain of leaves.
The sky swallowed everything.
Boundless blue stretched above us, wide and impossible after days trapped inside living wood. Clouds drifted below the branch, not above it, pale and endless beneath our feet.
Far below, jagged mountains cut through the mist.
A vast range of stone and snow spread beneath us like the spine of some buried god.
My breath caught.
The Western Mountain Range.
We had come all the way here.
Somewhere beside me, something moved.
A warning.
A voice.
A ghost.
I could not hear it.
Carlos stopped.
For a second, he only stared.
Then he turned around and pointed ahead.
His eyes were wide.
Mine followed.
And shook.
Because just ahead of us was the end of the branch.
The road that had dragged us through hunger, darkness, monsters, and silence finally ended.
No more winding path.
No more walls of bark.
No more safe direction pretending to be mercy.
Only a narrow stretch of living wood reaching out into open sky.
And at the end of it stood a tiny withered tree.
It was barely twice my height.
Thin.
Blackened.
Bent slightly to one side, as if it had grown while trying to crawl away from itself.
Its bark was not gold.
Not white.
Not the sacred color of the God Tree.
It was dark.
Deep blue-black, like a bruise under skin.
The leaves were shriveled silver, curled inward as though hiding from the light.
And hanging from two of its branches were fruits.
Two of them.
Dark fruits.
They were not large.
Not dramatic.
Not glowing like treasures in a fairy tale.
They hung quietly from the withered tree, round and smooth, their skin a deep, unnatural blue that seemed to drink the sunlight touching it.
They looked almost soft.
Almost harmless.
As if fate itself had placed them there and stepped back to watch.
That was when I understood.
This was it.
This was what changed Carlos.
The thing I had been searching for.
The thing waiting at the end of the branch.
The thing that turned the boy who wanted to become a hero into the monster who helped end the world.
It sat in front of me.
Quiet.
Patient.
Certain.
The realization did not feel like thought.
It felt older than thought.
Instinct.
Prophecy.
A conclusion carved directly into my bones.
Something inside me resonated with the scene, like my soul recognized the shape of a disaster before my mind could explain it.
The universe itself seemed to whisper:
This is the end.
And I knew.
I knew as I looked at Carlos.
He was walking toward the tree.
Slowly.
Gingerly.
One hand pressed against his stomach.
His eyes fixed on the only food either of us had seen in days.
He did not see corruption.
He did not see fate.
He did not see the future sharpening its teeth.
He saw food.
That was all.
A starving boy at the end of a road.
The other me appeared behind me.
His voice was soft.
Almost kind.
"Finish this, Kamrik."
My eyes burned.
Bloodshot.
Dry.
Empty.
Carlos took another step toward the fruit.
The hallucination smiled.
"Save the future."
And a few steps ahead of me, the future turned around with Carlos Strega's face.
——————————————————————
Carlos Strega had not expected to die inside a tree.
That thought should have been funny.
It was not.
Nothing had been funny for days.
At first, he had tried to keep track of time. Morning. Afternoon. Night. Walk. Rest. Check the path. Keep Kamrik moving. Avoid the leaves that hissed. Avoid the flowers that opened too slowly. Avoid anything that looked clean.
Then hunger blurred it.
Thirst erased it.
After that, it was just bark, pain, and breath.
Still, Carlos remembered enough.
The griffins.
The fall.
Kamrik grabbing him and not letting go.
Waking up hurt, Kamrik worse, and setting his shoulder because there was no other option.
Kamrik talking to empty air.
At first, Carlos thought it was shock.
Then exhaustion.
Then something else.
He still did not know what.
Voices, maybe.
A secret.
Kamrik had too many of those.
Carlos had noticed.
Of course he had.
Kamrik lied badly when tired. Joked when scared. Looked at Carlos sometimes like he was seeing someone else.
Carlos had stopped asking.
Not because he did not want answers.
He did.
But Kamrik had stayed.
When the griffins took him, Kamrik followed.
When things got worse, Kamrik kept walking.
When they were both half-dead, Kamrik still tried to joke.
That meant something.
Carlos pressed a hand to his stomach as he walked.
Everything hurt.
His throat burned. His legs shook. He had to steady himself against the bark more than once.
Kamrik walked behind him.
Too quiet.
Carlos did not like that.
"Kamrik?" he had said earlier.
No answer.
"Your shoulder?"
Nothing.
Kamrik just walked. Eyes open, unfocused. Fixed on something Carlos could not see.
Carlos should have been afraid.
Maybe he was.
Mostly, he was worried.
Kamrik was unstable, evasive, reckless, and clearly hiding something.
He was also starving.
And injured.
And alone.
So Carlos slowed his pace.
That was all he could do.
Then the darkness began to thin.
Leaves parted. The branch widened. Cold air replaced the damp rot.
Light.
Real light.
Carlos stopped.
Ahead, the branch opened into sky.
Blue stretched out in every direction. Clouds drifted below them. The mountains cut sharp lines across the horizon.
Carlos breathed in.
It hurt.
He did not care.
They had made it somewhere.
He turned to say something—
And stopped.
Kamrik was staring ahead.
Not at the sky.
Carlos followed his gaze.
At the end of the branch stood a small, withered tree. Blackened bark. Silver leaves clinging in thin clusters.
Two fruits hung from its branches.
Dark blue.
Rough and rumpled.
Wrong.
Like snakes bundled into a tight ball.
Carlos stared.
Food.
His stomach twisted.
He knew better.
He should test it. Cut it. Check it.
But his body stepped forward anyway.
Then again.
The ravenous feeling of hunger moved his feet beyond rationality.
Or maybe it was something else.
Behind him, Kamrik made a sound.
Carlos turned slightly.
Kamrik stood a few paces back, pale, shaking, eyes wide and red.
"Kamrik?"
No answer.
His brows furrowed.
"Hey. What is it?"
Nothing.
The wind moved between them.
Cold.
Carlos glanced at the fruit, then back at him.
Something was wrong.
More wrong than the tree.
Kamrik's hand twitched at his side.
Carlos noticed.
"Are the voices saying something?"
Kamrik's face tightened.
Fear.
Not the usual kind.
Something heavier.
Carlos turned fully toward him.
"Kamrik."
The name came out quieter than he meant.
Kamrik flinched.
Carlos stepped closer. Slow. Careful.
"I do not know what you are seeing," he said. "But listen."
Kamrik's eyes shook.
Carlos swallowed.
"We made it this far."
It sounded stupid.
They were half-dead on a branch in the sky, broken by hunger and despair, struggling to find even an inkling of water so they could trudge forward just a little more.
And still.
They were alive.
Carlos gave a small, tired shrug.
"We can figure the rest out."
Kamrik looked like he might fall apart.
Carlos hesitated, then added, more awkward than he liked, "You… stayed. Back there."
Kamrik's breath hitched.
Carlos looked away for a second, then back.
"That counts."
Then he said again, more firmly.
"That counts for so much."
"So thank you."
For a moment, Kamrik's eyes trembled, the war behind his eyes climaxing.
But then they cleared.
Really cleared.
He looked at Carlos—properly this time—and gave one small nod.
Like himself.
Carlos felt something settle.
Not trust.
Something thinner than trust, but strong enough to stand on.
Resolve.
"Good," Carlos said quietly. "Then we keep going."
He turned back toward the fruit.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Enough to assume Kamrik would follow.
Enough to make the mistake.
Behind him, something wet and red formed with a soft, dragging sound.
Carlos heard it.
His body reacted before his mind did.
He started to turn.
Too late.
——————————————
Bloodrend flashed.
The red blade drove into Carlos's back and punched through beneath his ribs.
For one impossible second, everything stopped.
Then I felt it.
The rush.
His blood answered the blade, and Bloodrend drank.
Heat flooded into me. Mana. Life. Strength. A violent, ecstatic surge that filled every hollow place hunger had carved into my body.
It was exhilarating.
Disgusting.
Beautiful.
Horrible.
A feast I had no right to enjoy.
My mind drowned in it for half a breath, and then the guilt struck.
Anguish slammed into the euphoria so hard my soul felt like it tore down the middle.
Pleasure and sorrow.
Power and grief.
Bloodlust and shame.
All of it twisted together until the only thing I could make was a shaking smile while tears slid down my face.
One from pleasure.
One from sorrow.
Carlos's body reacted before his voice did.
His back arched.
His fingers curled.
A broken sound forced itself from his throat.
"Gah—"
Blood spilled from his mouth.
Slowly, weakly, he turned his head.
Toward me.
I tried to look away.
I could not.
A hand caught my chin.
My hand.
Somehow.
The hallucination stood beside me, wearing my face, my eyes, my expression.
"Look at him," he said.
His voice was quiet now.
The mocking was gone.
The malice was gone.
All that remained was a mirror.
Me.
Only me.
"Make sure you look at him when you kill him."
My eyes dragged back to Carlos.
And I almost broke right there.
There was no hatred in his face.
Not at first.
Only shock.
Confusion.
Then the betrayal came.
Slow.
Clear.
And awful.
After that came something worse.
Resignation.
As if some exhausted part of him had finally understood that this was where the road had been leading.
That I had not followed him to save him.
And that I was not his comrade.
My mouth gaped, trying to form words.
Nothing came out.
Carlos stared at me with dying eyes, and the only thing I could give him was the weakest, most pathetic truth I had left.
"I'm sorry."
Bloodrend pulled itself free.
Carlos's body folded forward.
For one second, I caught him.
I do not know why.
Maybe instinct.
Maybe kindness.
Maybe some stupid, dying part of me still wanted to pretend I had not already done it.
His weight leaned against me.
Warm.
Human.
Then my hands moved.
And I pushed him off the edge.
Carlos Strega fell from the branch without a sound.
And something in the universe shifted.