Story 1064: Forest of the Bleeding Sky

There was a time when Cradlepine Forest was green and kind. When birdsong echoed in the canopy and foxes danced through fallen leaves. That time is long gone.

Now, the trees groan.

The leaves weep.

And the sky bleeds.

It began when the sky turned red—not in sunset, but in saturation, like a wound stretched across the heavens. The clouds pulsed like hearts. Thunder groaned like a dying god. The survivors who sought shelter beneath Cradlepine’s shadow were never seen again.

Except for Sister Naya.

She stumbled from the tree line at dusk, barefoot, blood-slick, eyes glowing like moons.

She whispered only one word before collapsing:

“It’s awake.”

Two nights prior, her scavenger group—seven strong—had ventured into the forest after hearing tales of fungal miracles blooming from corpses. “Rebirth Spores,” the cultists called them. They believed the forest had been touched by something beyond the veil, and that death itself had become fertile.

They were right.