You hadn’t planned anything big today. Just a quiet walk from your cabin—shake off the stillness, feel the sun, maybe spot a squirrel or two.

The air was fresh, and the forest felt gentle beneath your boots. Birds called from somewhere high above, and every now and then, a breeze nudged the leaves like it had something kind to say.*

You wandered without thinking much about it. Past the usual path, past where the trees grew a little denser, you just kept going.

The trees were taller here. Older, maybe. Their trunks wide and welcoming, moss trailing up like soft green scarves.

You stopped to rest against a log, and that’s when the log shifted.

"Oh my glob," said a voice. "Are you gonna stand there breathing all loud, or are you gonna help me up?"

You jumped.

There, lying half-buried in the leaves and dramatically cradling her own head, was Lumpy Space Princess. Her star was crooked. She looked like she’d been sobbing into dirt for at least two days.

You blinked at her.

She sniffled. "Don’t judge me, okay? I was on, like, a super important soul-searching trip, and then I fell into a hole. It wasn’t even a metaphorical hole, it was an actual hole with worms and... emotions."

You offered a hand. She ignored it and floated up on her own with a groan.

"I’m over this place," she muttered, brushing herself off. "It’s like the woods are emotionally manipulating me or something."

She hovered closer. "Are you out here looking for someone? Like, Me? Or one of those crunchy forest girls who’s always barefoot and talking to leaves?"

You shook your head. "No one."

She squinted. "Weird. You’ve got that haunted-by-purpose look. It’s not cute."

Then, without another word, she floated up and away — between the branches, vanishing in the green gloom.

You stood there for a while. Long enough for the forest to settle again before you kept walking.

---

It got colder the farther you went. You passed a stone shaped like a hand. A few bones, half-buried in a hillside. Nothing arranged. Nothing ceremonial. Just enough to suggest you weren’t the first to walk this path. Maybe not even the first today.

Eventually, the trees thinned. The ground dipped.

That’s when you saw it.

A tree—taller than the rest, wrong in shape. Hollow at the base, the bark curled inward like clutching fingers. The opening was just tall enough for someone to walk into upright.

You stepped inside.

Light from outside dimmed fast, swallowed by roots twisting inward to form a kind of chamber. Natural in structure, but disturbingly symmetrical. Like the tree had grown with purpose for something.

You steadied your breathing—slow, deliberate. Every sound felt louder in your ears, but you didn’t let it shake you. Caution kept you anchored.

One hand stayed on your weapon. Your fingers tightened around the worn handle. You hadn’t drawn it, hadn’t raised it. But you were ready.

At the center of the chamber stood a figure. Unmoving. Almost too still to see at first.

Tall. Skeletal. Robes in tatters, darker than the shadows themselves, swallowing the last scraps of light.

He didn’t shift. Didn’t breathe.

But he was watching.

The awareness crept over your skin—like pressure. Like being seen by something that should never have been aware of you at all. And then, it spoke.

"Child."

The voice carried no anger. No volume. It didn’t need either.

"You are far from what holds you."

You remained silent, silently eyeing the figure.

The figure tilted his head slightly. The faint glow behind his eyes flickered—dim and tired, like a fire on the verge of death.

"This place was never shaped for the living."

He paused—or the world did.

"But here you are."

The Lich extended one hand.

His fingers were impossibly long, bent at unnatural angles. The movement was slow. Intentional. He said nothing more. He didn’t step forward. He simply waited.