Season 1. Chapter 83: Cylde

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Chapter : Into the Woods Again

The morning mist still clung to the edges of camp like it was reluctant to leave, the trees dripping quietly with dew as the new day began. Riven's orders were clear: someone had to go find Clyde, who had gone missing after scouting too close to the outer forest boundaries.

Oliver stood beside the supply crates, adjusting the straps on his worn-out backpack. His green hoodie was a little damp from the air, but he didn't mind. He had already decided.

"I'll go," he said firmly.

Nico, sitting on a log with his head resting in his hands, groaned. The fire user looked drained, his usual reckless energy completely burned out. Smoke still lingered faintly on his clothes. "I'd help but… I got nothing left in the tank, man."

Oliver gave him a sympathetic glance. "You've done more than enough lately. Rest."

Before he could take a step, a hand suddenly yanked at the back of his hoodie.

Fern.

She pulled gently, but firmly, her eyes bright with stubborn energy. Her green hair caught the morning light like fresh leaves. "I'm coming with you," she said, voice soft but decisive.

"Fern, you don't have to—"

"I'm not letting you go alone. Clyde's my friend too," she replied.

Before Oliver could argue further, another voice cut in from the edge of the clearing.

"I'm going too."

Zack Erebus emerged from the tree shadows, his dark cloak barely rustling as he moved. He didn't say much, just looked at Oliver with calm resolve. The way the shadows clung to him, it was hard to tell how long he'd been standing there—watching.

Oliver nodded. That was enough.

So it was the three of them now: him, Fern, and Zack. The search team.

The forest waited ahead—vast, green, and dangerous.

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They left camp just past sunrise, stepping into the deeper woods where the canopy blocked most of the light. The further they walked, the quieter it got. No birdsong, no insects. Just the crunch of twigs beneath boots and the soft hum of Vita stirring around Fern's staff.

Zack walked in front, silent and alert. Oliver kept the middle, glancing at the faint signals left on the bark—Clyde's coded trail markings. Fern stayed close, occasionally touching leaves or moss, feeling their health, their breath.

After an hour, Oliver slowed down.

"These markings," he murmured, "they're fresh. He passed through here last night."

"Good," Fern whispered, pushing a few branches aside. "Then we're not too late."

Suddenly, Zack raised a hand to halt them.

The trees ahead looked different. Twisted. Burnt in strange spirals, like something had warped them in passing. A breeze blew through, carrying the scent of ash and something metallic.

Oliver stepped forward slowly. "This isn't natural…"

Fern's fingers tightened around her staff. "Something passed through here. Something that wasn't Clyde."

Zack didn't say anything, but his eyes narrowed.

The forest had shifted. The deeper they went, the stranger it felt.

But they didn't stop.

Clyde was still out there.

And they weren't turning back.

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