Essence II

Gabriel exhaled slowly, lowering the stick. The faint hum of the system faded, leaving him alone again in the oppressive quiet of the forest. The trees around him seemed darker now, the shadows stretching longer, deeper. The wolf's body still lay nearby, its lifeless eyes fixed on nothing.

He turned away, his shoulders heavy, his steps uneven as he moved forward. His stomach growled loudly, a painful reminder of how long it had been since he'd eaten. Gabriel pressed a hand to his stomach, wincing at the sharp pangs. He hadn't even realized how empty he was until now.

"I should've thought ahead." he thought bitterly. "I should've taken something from that goblin. Or… or learned how to find food. Anything but wandering around like a fool."

He scanned the forest around him, his eyes darting over the strange foliage. The glowing sap, the mushrooms, the vines— What was safe to eat? What could kill him? He had no idea. The skill he had ignored earlier, the one that would have told him what was edible, now seemed like an obvious mistake.

"Get a hold of yourself, you need to think rationally." Gabriel groaned, dragging his hands down his face, his palms smearing dirt and sweat across his skin. His stomach twisted painfully, the hunger clawing at him with sharp, relentless pangs. It felt like his insides were folding in on themselves, hollow and aching. But worse than the hunger was the exhaustion.

His mind felt sluggish, his thoughts moving like they were wading through thick mud. He couldn't think clearly, couldn't plan. Every time he tried to focus, his mind circled back to the same gnawing questions: How am I supposed to survive here? What chance do I have?

It hadn't even been a full day since he arrived in this strange, hostile world, but already he felt like he was being crushed under its weight. The fight with the goblin. The wolf. The hunger. Gabriel clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He hated this feeling—this helplessness, this weakness. He had always prided himself on being resourceful, on being able to figure things out, no matter how bad things got. But here? Here, in this place? He felt like nothing. Gabriel's stomach growled loudly, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, wincing at the sharp pangs. "I need food." He thought bitterly. "Anything. Just something to keep me going."

The shadows deepened as he trudged forward, the weight of his hunger and exhaustion dragging at his limbs. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going. Every step felt heavier, his legs trembling beneath him.

And then, he saw it.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, quick and subtle, almost lost in the gloom. Gabriel froze, his breath catching in his throat.

There, darting between the trees, was a small, scurrying creature. Its tiny body blended into the underbrush, its fur a mottled mix of brown and gray that made it almost invisible against the forest floor. But its movements betrayed it—a rapid, jittery motion, its head twitching as it searched for something.

Gabriel's eyes locked onto it, his muscles tensing instinctively. His stomach growled again, louder this time, and the sound seemed to echo in his ears.

Food.

The word burned in his mind. Food. He didn't know what the creature was, didn't know if it was poisonous, or if it would kill him, but none of that mattered. None of it. It was something. Something to catch. Something to fill the gnawing, relentless emptiness that clawed at his insides like a beast of its own.

The thought hit him like a spark, igniting something primal deep within him. His body moved before his mind could catch up, his legs pushing forward in a wild, uncoordinated lunge.

The creature squealed, a sharp, high-pitched sound that cut through the quiet of the forest, and darted to the side. Gabriel's hands shot out, grabbing at empty air, his fingers brushing against fur before the creature bolted again.

No!

His muscles burned as he scrambled after it, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. The creature zigzagged through the underbrush, its tiny body blending into the shadows, but Gabriel's eyes locked onto it like a predator.

He dove forward, his hands outstretched, and this time, his fingers closed around something warm and squirming. The creature thrashed wildly in his grip, its tiny claws scratching at his wrist, its squeals growing louder and more frantic.

Gabriel's breath came in ragged gasps as he held it up, his chest heaving. It was small, no larger than a rabbit, with soft brown fur and wide, terrified eyes. Its body wriggled in his hands, its hind legs kicking frantically, but Gabriel held tight, his grip tightening as he pressed it against his chest.

His stomach growled again, louder this time,. He stared at the creature, his mind racing.

What now?

He had no knife, no fire, no way to prepare it. The thought of eating it raw sent a wave of nausea rolling through him, but the hunger was louder than his disgust. His body screamed for food, his vision blurring slightly from the ache in his gut.

The creature squealed again, its small body jerking violently in his hands. Gabriel's grip faltered for a moment, and panic surged through him. "If I let it go, I'll have nothing. No food. No energy. I'll die out here."

His jaw tightened, his teeth clenching so hard they ached. "I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice cracking.

Then he brought the creature to his mouth.

It thrashed harder as his teeth sank into its neck, the fur soft and warm against his lips. A hot, metallic taste exploded in his mouth, thick and revolting, and he gagged instantly. Blood spilled down his chin, warm and sticky, and the creature's squeals turned into shrill, choking gasps.

Gabriel's stomach lurched violently, bile rising in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow. The flesh was tough, unyielding, and every bite made his jaw ache. His hands trembled as he held the creature steady, its struggles growing weaker with every passing second.

His mind screamed at him to stop. The taste, the texture, the smell—it was all wrong, all wrong. But the hunger clawed at him, overriding everything else.

He tore another chunk from its side, his teeth grinding against fur and sinew. The blood dripped onto his hands, pooling in his palms, warm and sticky, the sensation making his stomach churn. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, each one laced with the metallic tang of copper.

What am I doing?

The question hit him like a fist to the gut. His hands froze, the lifeless body of the creature still clutched against his chest. Blood dripped from his lips, staining his chin and shirt. The taste lingered in his mouth like poison, clinging to his tongue no matter how many times he swallowed. He wanted to gag, to spit it out, but he forced himself to keep going. Despite the disgust roiling in his stomach, he tore off another piece and swallowed, each bite making his head swim.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, his voice hoarse, trembling. "I'm gonna do whatever's necessary to stay alive."

The words hung in the air, but they felt hollow. His body moved mechanically, biting, chewing, swallowing, but his mind was somewhere else. His eyes stared past the carcass in his hands, unfocused, gazing at a memory—or, more accurately, a shadow of one. Someone he had once been.

Doctor Marcelle. A character he'd played in a stage production years ago. Gabriel could still picture him clearly: the most gentle, soft-spoken man, always doing his best to treat patients, even offering free consultations to those who couldn't afford the hospital. But beneath that kindness was a facade, a brittle mask that cracked the moment someone stepped into his house. The smell of blood lingered in every corner, metallic and cloying, thick enough to choke on. He'd made sure of that. It was deliberate. A warning.

Marcelle loved the moment his patients noticed it—the shift in their eyes, the way their hope turned to horror. That was his favorite part: the despair, the helplessness. Gabriel had relished playing him, leaning into that darkness, letting it take root in his performance. Now, in the dim light of the forest, with blood on his hands and fear clawing at the edges of his sanity, Marcelle didn't feel like a character anymore. He felt like a blueprint.

I need to be like him, Gabriel thought. If I'm going to survive this madness, I need to be madder than the madness itself.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the blood across his face. A slow, unsettling smile curled his lips. The disgust he'd felt moments ago dulled into something else—something colder. His heart still raced, but it no longer felt like fear. It felt like resolve.

"Fuck it!" he said, the words coming out in a low growl. "If I'm going to be thrown into this madness, I'll play the part."

He straightened, the lifeless creature still cradled in his hands, and closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel the forest pressing in around him, the damp chill of the air brushing against his skin. And then, as he always did before stepping into a role, he spoke the character's defining line.

"I'm such a gentle doc, ain't I?"

The air around him seemed to shift as the words left his lips. For an instant, it grew colder, as if the forest itself recoiled from him. Then, just as quickly, it grew warm again—almost suffocatingly so. When Gabriel opened his eyes, they were no longer wide with fear but calm, gentle, almost serene. A strange, unsettling warmth filled his gaze, but beneath it was something else. 

He knelt beside the wolf's body, his bloodied hands moving. He reached out and ran his fingers over its head, stroking the matted fur with a tenderness that bordered on reverence.

"Oh, dear," he murmured softly, his voice dripping with mock affection. "What a lovely creature you are." He stroked the wolf's head again, his hand lingering for a moment as though comforting it—or savoring the moment.

Gabriel stood, his blood-streaked fingers flexing at his sides, and let out a breath. The fear from before had been swallowed whole, replaced by something colder, sharper. He smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The forest around him was silent, the shadows between the trees stretching long and deep, as if they were watching. Gabriel didn't care. He had made his choice.

He stumbled forward, his legs heavy, his breath uneven. His eyes, still holding that strange, gentle warmth, were fighting to stay open. Every blink lasted a moment too long, his body screaming for rest. But he shook his head and muttered under his breath, as if to anchor himself.

"I can't sleep yet. I need to find somewhere safe."

And so he wandered deeper into the forest. The air grew cooler the farther he went, and the light above, already scarce, faded to a faint, sickly green that barely reached the ground. His steps were cautious but steady, his ears straining for any sound—a rustle, a crack, anything that might signal danger. But nothing came. The forest was unnervingly still, as though it held its breath.

The deeper he went, the stranger the forest became. The trees here were different—older, taller, their gnarled trunks twisting so much that looked like severe Scoliosis. Some leaned together like conspirators, their branches interlocking overhead to form dark, skeletal arches. Others stood apart, their roots clawing out of the earth like hands trying to escape. Moss hung from their branches in long, tattered curtains, swaying gently even though there was no breeze.

Gabriel paused near one of the larger trees, his hand brushing against its bark. It was damp and oddly soft, almost spongy, and when he pulled his hand away, he noticed a faint residue on his fingers—a pale, silvery substance that shimmered faintly in the dim light. He wiped it off on his shirt, frowning, and moved on.

The ground beneath his feet began to change, the soft moss giving way to patches of bare, rocky earth. In some places, thick roots jutted out of the ground like ribs, forcing him to watch his step. In others, strange plants grew—tall, spindly things with dark, waxy leaves and flowers that glowed faintly, their light pulsing like a heartbeat. Gabriel hesitated near one of them, watching the way its petals seemed to ripple as if responding to his presence. He gave it a wide berth, his unease growing.

As he walked, the silence of the forest was broken by occasional sounds—soft, distant clicks and murmurs, like whispers just out of reach. At one point, he thought he heard footsteps behind him, but when he turned, there was nothing there. The shadows between the trees seemed to shift and stretch, and though he told himself it was just his exhaustion playing tricks on him, he quickened his pace.

Eventually, the forest began to thin, the trees growing farther apart. Gabriel stepped into a small clearing, and for a moment, he thought he might have reached the edge of the woods. But then he saw it—a dark opening in the side of a rocky hill, half-hidden by vines and undergrowth.

A cave.

Gabriel approached cautiously, his heart thudding in his chest. The entrance was jagged and uneven, framed by twisted roots that seemed to claw at the stone. He hesitated at the threshold, peering into the darkness. The air here was cooler, carrying a faint, damp smell of earth and stone. It felt... still. Safe, perhaps. Or at least safer than the open forest.

He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls. The cave was shallow, no more than a few dozen feet deep, but it was enough. The floor was uneven, littered with small rocks and patches of moss, but there was space enough for him to lie down.

Gabriel exhaled, his shoulders sagging as the tension bled from his body. For the first time in hours, he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. He ran a hand through his blood-matted hair and glanced back toward the entrance, watching the pale green light of the forest filter weakly through the vines.

"This'll do." he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He set the bloodied stick he'd been carrying against the rough stone wall, its surface slick with grime and damp to the touch. Slowly, Gabriel began to clear a small patch of ground, pushing aside loose rocks and clumps of moss with trembling hands. His movements were sluggish, his body screaming for rest, but he forced himself to keep going. When the space finally seemed good enough—sufficient, at least—he collapsed onto it with a heavy thud, the cold, uneven ground pressing into his back.

For a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the jagged ceiling of the cave, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The weight he'd been carrying since the moment he'd arrived in this place—this nightmare—seemed to crash down on him all at once. It pressed against his ribs, wrapped around his throat, and dragged him into the kind of exhaustion that felt deeper than just his body. It was in his bones, his mind, his very soul.

Gabriel let it take him. There was no point in fighting it anymore. His body gave out, shutting down as if someone had flipped a switch. His muscles slackened, his eyelids fluttered closed, and the last of his strength seeped away, leaving him hollow and still.

His energy was gone. Completely. Utterly.

And yet, as he drifted into unconsciousness, something lingered—a faint, nagging awareness. It wasn't the ache in his limbs or the sting of dried blood on his skin. It was the forest, the shadows, the silence. The sense that something had followed him here. That even now, as he lay in the darkness, he wasn't alone.

But Gabriel was too far gone to care. His breathing slowed, his mind slipped into blackness, and the forest outside held its breath.

For now, he was safe.

For now.