Story 1142: Watcher in the Pines

The pines stood like sentinels along the edge of Greybridge, where the city's decay gave way to a stretch of silent forest. No one crossed into those woods willingly anymore—not since the Watcher began to appear.

A robed figure, tall and still.

No face, no movement—just presence.

Always there.

Watching.

The forest had once been a sanctuary during the first wave of the Spiral's madness. Refugees fled the dying city and tried to build new lives among the trees. But one by one, their fires went cold. Their voices silenced. Their shelters empty.

Now only Marlen Keene remained.

A former priest turned hermit, Marlen lived in a crumbling chapel beneath the pines, scrawling prayers on rotting bark and speaking to no one but the wind. He knew the Watcher well—it had stood outside his chapel every night for the past twelve years.

It never moved.

Never spoke.

But Marlen felt it.

It watched through the world.