Chapter 5: A Thread of Light

After leaving Thimvell, the adventurer followed a narrow trail that led between pale hills and crooked trees. The village faded behind him like a dream at dawn, but its warmth lingered. The wind carried no destination. Still, his feet moved.

It wasn't long before he saw her.

A woman sat by the side of the road, wrapped in a faded shawl. Her hair was tangled, her eyes hollow from too many sleepless nights. She clutched a wooden sign with trembling hands, scrawled with a message:

"Please help my son."

The adventurer stopped in front of her. No words came from his mouth, just the quiet rustle of the wind and ribbon on his wrist.

She looked up at him, her voice cracked and low. "He was always kind... always gentle. But now, he hides in corners and cries. He sees things no one else sees. He forgets who I am. Please... please, I'll give everything I have... Just bring my boy back to me."

He nodded.

He didn't promise anything. But he stayed.

She led him to a lonely house at the edge of a dried-out field. The sun barely touched this place. The windows were shut with thick boards, and the door creaked like it hadn't been opened in days.

Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.

The boy—no, the young man—sat curled in a corner, his back turned to the room. He flinched when the door opened, then began to whisper things to himself. Words like "I didn't know" and "I didn't ask for this" spilled from his mouth in broken patterns.

The mother placed a hand over her heart. "He wasn't always like this. It happened after he met someone... a cloaked traveler who promised to help him win the love of a girl. I was against the idea but..."

The adventurer's brow furrowed slightly. He knelt in front of the boy, who barely lifted his head.

"Who did you meet?" the adventurer asked softly.

The young man shivered. "She said she'd make her love me… the mayor's daughter. Just a little magic, she said… I just wanted her to see me… to feel what I felt."

His voice cracked.

"But it wasn't love… She died. I saw her die. And now, every night, I hear her calling me. Her voice, the wind… I can't escape it."

A long silence filled the room.

The adventurer stood.

He didn't understand curses or magic. But guilt… guilt was something anyone could feel.

"Where is this cloaked woman?" he asked.

The mother shook her head. "Some say she lives beyond the black marsh, deep in the woods where even the animals won't go. They call her a shadow-born. A devourer of memories. A beast that looks like a woman, but is far older… and far worse."

That night, the adventurer walked alone into the forest.

The marsh swallowed the path quickly. Trees grew twisted and wrong, their bark blackened like burnt skin. Mist hugged the ground, and the air buzzed with things unseen. But he didn't stop. He followed the pull inside him, the same quiet tug that had guided him since the first day he woke beneath the stars.

Then he saw it.

A crooked hut, standing on a circle of stones. No animals nearby. No wind.

Inside, the stench of old smoke and rot filled the air. The adventurer stepped in.

She was waiting. As if she already know.

Not a woman. Not really.

Her skin was gray, dry like crumbling paper. Her face was a mess of wrinkles that moved like worms. Her smile, if it could be called that, revealed broken teeth and gums that bled from the cracks. Her eyes were deep pits with swirling shadows inside them.

"Oh… a visitor," she hissed. "How rare. How delicious."

The adventurer didn't flinch.

"You cursed him," he said. "Why?"

The creature licked her lips slowly. "He wished. And I answered. He asked for love. I gave him a bond that could never be broken."

"You killed her."

"No," she grinned. "He did. His wish carved her fate. I merely watched."

The adventurer's fists tightened.

"What do you gain from this?"

"Memories," she whispered. "So sweet… So warm… I eat them. The moment she died, the boy's guilt fed me for days. His mind breaking? Oh, that was dessert."

She leaned closer.

"And now you come here, walking like a ghost. No memories. No name. You must taste… divine."

He didn't move.

"I want to break the curse," he said.

She laughed. Loud and cruel.

"Then kill me. But know this, my death means nothing. The curse is guilt. And guilt never fades, no matter how much blood is spilled."

It was obviously a lie.

Anyone would think that source of failures is from the creator itself, so anyone would try to get rid of that first, so as the Adventurer.

So, he took a bet.

The adventurer looked down.

Then up.

He raised his hand, and from his palm, something shimmered.

A single thread of light.

It was not magic. It was not fire or storm.

It was… gentle.

Soft.

Like a star that forgot how to shine, but tried anyway.

He didn't know how it came to his mind, but something tells him that this is what he should do, His body moved on its own.

It moved on its own, glowing faintly as it floated through the air toward the creature. She screamed when she saw it, not in pain, but in fear. As if something old inside her remembered what that light meant.

"No… not that… Not that…"

She tried to run, but the thread moved like a whisper, curling around her throat, her limbs, her chest.

And then—

Silence.

No flames. No sound.

Just her falling backward.

Gone.

Like she was never there.

The hut trembled, then cracked.

The air became still again.

And the adventurer walked out, the thread slowly vanishing into the breeze.

Back at the house, the young man lay asleep.

When he woke, his eyes were clear.

He remembered everything.

And he wept.

Not from fear, but from sorrow.

The mother held him close, tears falling freely. "Thank you," she said to the adventurer. "Thank you, thank you, thank you…"

He didn't reply. He only smiles.

The mother who held her son in her arms ask the adventurer to take whatever he sees useful in the house.

He simple nodded and says "That won't be necessary, all I ask from now is to not leave your son anymore".

The mother is in tears once again, "Thank you once again, Traveler."

He simply stepped outside and looked up.

The stars were out.

Quiet. Distant. Watching.

He whispered, "You're still here, aren't you?"

The ribbon on his wrist fluttered once.

He walked on.

Not because he was searching for answers.

But because someone, somewhere, still needed saving.

And maybe, one day, he would remember who he was.

But tonight, he simply walked under the stars

Carrying the silence of a thread that had once glowed in the dark.