The forest was different now.

Not just darker but quieter. As if the world itself had taken a breath and forgotten how to exhale.

Eren walked alone, soaked from shoulder to boot, guided only by the whisper of something that pulsed in his hand. The sword Akreth remained bound in cloth once more, but it still hummed faintly with that eerie vibration that touched his spine every few steps.

It hadn’t stopped since he left the village. Neither had the silence.

Birds no longer chirped. The wind no longer moved the leaves. Even the occasional rustle in the underbrush once the familiar call of wildlife had vanished.

He stopped by a twisted tree, gnarled and blackened at the root. It looked as though fire had scorched it centuries ago. He rested a hand against it and caught his breath.

The events from the day before swirled in his mind.

Lea’s face.

Her confusion.

The way she looked at him like a stranger.

He clenched his jaw.

“I’ll get you back,” he whispered. “Even if I have to tear open the world.”

The blade pulsed in response, as if approving.

He hated that.

By nightfall, Eren had found shelter beneath the remains of an old watchtower. Its roof had collapsed, and moss covered much of the stone, but it was dry. Sort of.

He started a fire with what dry branches he could scavenge and sat across from the flame, staring at the bundle beside him.

He should throw it away.

Every part of him knew it.

And yet his hand reached for it anyway.

He unwrapped it slowly, the cloth falling away like peeling skin. The blade greeted him like a long-lost companion. Even in the dim light, it reflected no warmth, only the deep glint of something infinite.

“Who sealed you?” he asked aloud. “Why me?”

A silence answered him… until it didn’t.

“Because you remember.”

The voice came from within.

It didn’t echo it resonated. Like a thought not his own slipping beneath the cracks of his mind. Deep. Genderless. Ancient.

Eren flinched, pulling his hand back.

“Who are you?”

“I am what remains. The blade. The oath. The grief.”

Akreth.

The sword was speaking.

Eren steadied himself. “You took her from me.”

“I showed you what you loved most. The curse took the rest.”

“Why?”

“Because love is weight. And only those who carry that weight may wield me.”

He stared at the blade. His reflection in it seemed off slightly twisted, like a version of himself he didn’t recognize.

“Then what am I now?”

“You are the blade’s path. The echo of the one who dared defy forgetting.”

The wind outside picked up, whistling through cracks in the tower.

Eren stood slowly, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t want to be a path. I want Lea back. Tell me how to break the curse.”

“Then walk toward the place where memory dies.”

“Where?”

“North. Beyond the forest. Past the Hollow Vale. To the Tower of Names.”

The name struck something deep within him. A memory of a map, an old story told to frightened children.

It wasn’t supposed to be real.

But then again, neither was the sword.

At dawn, Eren left the ruins behind, sword once again wrapped and slung across his back. He didn't look back not at the tower, not at the trail, not at the life he once had.

Ahead, the mist grew thicker. The trees leaned in. And the first howls of creatures not of this world began to echo through the trees.

The blade pulsed again.

But this time, Eren didn’t flinch.

He walked forward into the mist.

And the shadow followed.