They walked cautiously past the site of the earlier confrontation, their footsteps muffled against the frostbitten ground. The spot where the grotesque bird-creature had been resurrected was now eerily still, but the aftermath was undeniable.
Black, viscous liquid coated the earth, glistening faintly under the pale moonlight. Its foul odor lingered in the air—a mix of rot and something acidic, almost metallic.
Shirley crouched down, his steel-gray eyes narrowing as he poked at the inky substance with a broken twig. He turned it over a few times, observing how the slime clung stubbornly to the wood before he flicked it forward.
The stick flew a short distance before stopping abruptly mid-air. It hovered there for a split second before dropping straight down as if it had hit an invisible wall.
"What the heck…" Shirley muttered, his brow furrowing.
Ezra, standing a few paces back, leaned forward slightly. "Did that… just stop mid-air? Like it hit something?"
Ignoring Ezra, Shirley grabbed a nearby rock. He weighed it in his hand for a moment before hurling it toward the same spot. The rock sailed smoothly before—thud—it stopped, just like the stick, hanging impossibly still in the air before falling straight down.
His eyes widened. "Okay, that's not normal."
Shirley stood up slowly, his expression hard. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, one hand outstretched.
His fingers met resistance before they could reach the space ahead, pressing against something smooth and unyielding—an invisible barrier. He pushed lightly, then harder, his palm splayed flat against the unseen wall.
"It's solid," he said, glancing back at Ezra.
"Like glass… or stone. But there's nothing there."
Ezra moved closer, cautiously reaching out with one finger. Sure enough, he felt it—a surface, smooth and cold, stopping him from moving any further forward.
Shirley stepped back from the invisible barrier, his steel-gray eyes narrowing as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Ezra remained a few paces behind him, one hand pressed lightly against the unseen wall as if he could somehow will it to disappear.
Shirley let out a long sigh, tilting his head back as if asking the sky itself for patience.
"Alright, kid. I've got good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"
Ezra shifted his weight, his lavender eyes flicking between Shirley and the ominous ichor-stained ground. "Uh… good, I guess?"
"Wise choice," Shirley said, though his expression didn't match his words. He clapped his hands together, the sound hollow in the oppressive silence. "So, the good news is… I'm pretty sure those two demons—the abomination and its pet bird-zombie—only come out at night."
Ezra's eyebrows shot up. "That's the good news? That they only come out at night? You're telling me we're safe… during the day?"
"Exactly," Shirley replied with an exaggerated nod. "See? Bright side."
There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other. Ezra crossed his arms, expression flat. "Okay… and the bad news?"
Shirley held up a single finger. "First, we're trapped here for the meantime. This barrier isn't budging, and I'm not about to start smashing my head against it to test its durability."
He raised a second finger. "Second, that monster we saw? The big guy? If I had to guess, it's at least a rank two . Maybe higher. And if it is higher, we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell, you're not even awakened and I'm as useful as a broken compass in a storm ."
Ezra's lips thinned into a tight line. "Great. That's… comforting."
Shirley continued, raising a third finger.
"Third, there's a good chance there are more of those bird-zombie things shambling around somewhere. The way that monster brought one back? That wasn't a one-time party trick."
A fourth finger joined the others. "Fourth, I really don't want to stay here. Like, at all. Bad vibes, kid. Real bad vibes."
Finally, Shirley raised his pinky finger with a dramatic sigh. "Fifth, I need a cigarette. Desperately. And unless you've got one stashed in that fancy coat of yours, I'm about to start chewing bark."
Ezra stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly. "How do you have one good news point and five bad news points? That's not how this works."
The only option now was to head into the forest. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than staying out in the open field, exposed and vulnerable. Winter was closing in, and the temperature was already starting to drop sharply. Night would arrive quicker, and with it came the creatures—those things that lurked in the dark, hunting, watching.
The forest loomed ahead of them, its towering trees casting jagged shadows against the faint moonlight. The branches intertwined overhead, forming a skeletal canopy that blocked out much of the sky. The deeper they went, the less light there would be. The air felt different near the tree line—heavier, colder, and filled with an almost tangible silence.
Ezra adjusted his coat, pulling it tighter around himself as he followed Shirley toward the dense foliage. His lavender eyes flicked over every shadow and every branch, searching for movement, for shapes that didn't belong. Shirley moved with purposeful strides, his steel-gray eyes sharp and focused as he scanned the area.
"Stick close, kid," Shirley said, his voice low but firm. "We lose sight of each other in there, and it's game over."
Ezra nodded, his playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. "Got it."
The two of them stepped into the forest, their boots crunching softly against the frost-covered leaves and twigs beneath their feet.
The sound felt too loud, too intrusive in the stillness. Every snap of a branch underfoot made Ezra flinch slightly, his head snapping toward the source.
The forest seemed alive, its twisted trees leaning in as if listening to their movements. Shadows shifted with every step, and the wind whispered faintly through the skeletal branches above.
"Shirley," Ezra muttered, his voice just above a whisper. "This place feels… wrong."
Shirley didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained locked on the path ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade.
Ezra wasn't sure how long they'd been walking. The forest seemed endless, an oppressive maze of gnarled trees and twisted shadows. Each step felt the same, and every direction looked identical. Worse still, they kept encountering the same black, viscous substance smeared across tree trunks and pooling in the underbrush. Its foul, metallic scent clung to the air, making Ezra's stomach churn.
Eventually, they hit the invisible barrier again. The same smooth, unyielding wall stretched before them, blocking any attempt to move further. Shirley had tested it multiple times—throwing rocks, pressing his palm against it—but the result was always the same.
With no other choice, Shirley found a relatively sheltered spot beneath the thick branches of an ancient tree, close to the barrier but concealed enough to offer some protection. The ground here was dry, the canopy above blocking most of the frost from settling.
"Alright, kid," Shirley said, dropping his pack onto the ground with a heavy sigh. "We're setting up camp here. The sun's gone, and moving in the dark isn't smart. Not with whatever's out there."
Ezra nodded wordlessly, his body sagging with exhaustion as he dropped onto a patch of moss. The moon had risen high above them, casting pale silvery light through the branches. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see by.
During their walk, Shirley had foraged a small collection of wild fruits, carefully picking out the ones he recognized as safe to eat. He handed a few to Ezra, who inspected them with wary curiosity before taking a cautious bite.
"They're fine," Shirley said flatly, biting into one of the fruits himself. "If I wanted to poison you, I'd have done it when you were asleep."
Ezra snorted, though his laugh was hollow. "Comforting, as always."
The fruit was surprisingly sweet, its juices sticky on Ezra's fingers. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the gnawing hunger at bay.
The two of them sat in relative silence, the crackle of a small fire between them filling the space. Shirley had managed to start it using dry twigs and flint, though they had to keep it small to avoid drawing attention.
The forest around them was alive with faint sounds—distant howls, the creak of tree branches, and something that occasionally sounded like low, guttural breathing far off in the distance.