The Anomaly's Path

Darkness.

A darkness that had weight, that pressed against my skin like water pressing against a drowning man’s chest.

I could not feel my body.

I could not feel my arms or my legs or my heart beating in my chest. There was no up or down, no left or right, no beginning or end. Just darkness. Endless, suffocating, absolute.

Where am I?

The thought came slow, like honey dripping from a spoon, thick and heavy. I tried to move. Nothing happened. I tried to speak. My lips did not respond. I tried to open my eyes—were my eyes already open?

...And saw nothing.

Then, I felt a presence. Somewhere in the gloom, something was watching me. Every instinct I had developed over months of fighting screamed at me:

Do not move. Do not breathe. Do not let it know you are awake.

But it already knew.

The darkness shifted. It shifted like something alive, something that had been waiting in this place for a very long time and had finally found what it was waiting for.

A figure stood in the distance.

I could not see it clearly. The darkness around it was thicker, darker, swirling like ink dropped into water. The figure was tall—no, maybe not tall. Maybe average. I could not tell. Its edges were blurred, obscured, as if my eyes refused to focus on it. As if my mind was protecting me from something it knew I was not ready to see.

I tried to look closer.

My eyes strained. My head throbbed. The darkness around the figure seemed to pulse, and I felt something press against my consciousness, a weight, a pressure, a warning.

Stop!

But because of how much of a bastard I am. I did not stop.

I pushed harder, forcing my senses to sharpen, forcing my eyes to see what they were trying not to see. The figure’s silhouette became clearer, a shoulder, an arm, the curve of a head. But the moment I thought I was making progress, something happened.

My knees buckled.

I hit the ground, or whatever passed for ground in this place, hard enough to send shockwaves of pain through my body. Blood poured from my nose, hot and thick, dripping onto darkness that swallowed it without a trace. My eyes burned, and I raised a trembling hand to cover them.

Don’t you dare look at that thing.

The instinct was not mine. It came from somewhere deeper, somewhere older, somewhere that had survived things I had never experienced. My body was screaming at me, every nerve, every muscle, every cell.

Do not lift your head.

Do not look at its face.

If you see it, you will die.

My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. Blood dripped from my nose and my ears and the corners of my eyes, and I kept my head bowed, my gaze fixed on the darkness beneath me, because I knew—I knew, that if I looked up, if I saw what was standing in that fog, I would cease to exist.

There would be nothing left to bury.

The figure moved.

I did not see it move. I felt it. The pressure in the room shifted, the darkness swirled, and I felt the weight of its attention turn away from me. Not because it had lost interest. Because it had seen enough.

"...You should be glad." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, from inside my skull and outside my skin, from the darkness and the light and the space between. It was not male or female, young or old, human or inhuman.

It was just... a voice.

"I did not let you look at my true form. Your soul would not be able to see my true form and shattered."

I kept my head bowed. Blood dripped from my chin onto my hands.

"Most beings would have let you look," the voice continued. "They would have enjoyed watching you break. But I am not most beings."

The pressure lessened. The weight on my shoulders lifted, and I gasped, a ragged, desperate sound, as air rushed into my lungs. My body was still shaking, still bleeding, but I could breathe again.

"Look up," the voice said. "...I will change into something your mind can accept."

I lifted my head.

The darkness was gone.

I was standing on the edge of a mountain, high above a valley that stretched out below me like a painting made of light and shadow.

The sky was the color of late evening, deep purple and soft gold, with streaks of orange where the sun had just begun to set. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of pine and earth and something sweet that I could not name.

A gentle wind blew across the mountain, rustling my hair, cooling the blood that still lingered on my face. The grass beneath my feet was soft and green, dotted with wildflowers that swayed in the breeze.

...And at the center of the valley, standing alone on a small hill, was a tree.

It was not like any tree I had ever seen. Its trunk was wide and ancient, the bark silver-grey and smooth, marked with lines that seemed to glow faintly in the fading light.

Its branches stretched out in every direction, reaching toward the sky like arms raised in prayer. The leaves were gold and amber and deep crimson, and even as I watched, some of them broke free from their branches and drifted down to the earth, spinning slowly in the wind.

It was... eternal.

That was the only word that came to mind. The tree was eternal. It had been here for longer than I could imagine, and it would be here long after I was gone.

Beneath the tree, a small table waited. Two chairs.

A teapot sat on the table, steam rising from its spout, and two cups waited beside it, empty and clean.

I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned.

She was walking toward me from the edge of the mountain, her bare feet silent on the grass, her black hair falling past her shoulders in soft waves. She was young, maybe twenty, maybe younger, with amber eyes that gleamed in the evening light and a smile that was warm and knowing and sad all at once.

Mia.

But not Mia. Its not the Mia I had known. This Mia was older, more confident, her shoulders straight, her chin lifted, her eyes holding a wisdom that the girl from Wayford had never had the chance to develop.

I stared at her. My heart clenched. My throat tightened.

"What...?" The word came out broken, barely a whisper.

She tilted her head, and her smile widened. "How can a being like me do this, right? Gods and beings like me can do many things. This form is not one I chose. It is one your mind created. A shape that would comfort you. A face you would trust."

She walked past me, her shoulder brushing against mine, and I caught the scent of wildflowers and something else, that did not belong to Mia at all.

She sat down at the table and poured tea into both cups. The liquid was pale gold, steaming gently, and the scent that rose from it was unlike anything I had ever smelled. It reminded me of mornings in the orphanage, of Roran’s laughter, of Mia’s hand on my cheek.

"...Sit," she said without looking at me.

I did not move. My mind was racing, spinning, trying to catch up with what was happening. This was the being. The one from the darkness. The one whose true form I could not look at. And it had chosen to look like Mia.

"Why?" I asked. "Why her?"

The being—Mia—looked up at me. Her amber eyes gleamed. "Because she mattered to you. Her face is the one you see when you close your eyes. When you think of home, you think of her."

She gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit, Leo. I do not bite. Not unless you ask nicely."

I did not know if that was a joke. I did not know if beings like this made jokes.

But I sat.

The chair was warm, and the wood was smooth beneath my fingers. The tea in front of me steamed gently, and the scent of it wrapped around me like a blanket.

"...Drink," the being said. "It will help."

I hesitated. Then I lifted the cup to my lips and drank.

The tea was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was warm and sweet and bitter and soothing all at once. It spread through my chest like sunlight, and I felt the pain in my body fade, the blood on my face dry and flake away, the trembling in my hands still.

I set the cup down and looked at the being.

It was watching the valley, its amber eyes fixed on the tree in the distance. The wind moved through its black hair, and the fading light painted golden patterns on its skin.

"...You have questions to ask, right?," it said. "You are full of questions. You have been full of questions since the moment you woke up in this world."

It turned to look at me.

"I can answer some of them but not all. You are too weak to hear the truth, and I do not have much time. Ask me three questions but choose them wisely."

I stared at it.

My mind raced. There were so many things I wanted to know. Who are you? Where am I? Why me? What was the point of all this suffering? Would I ever see Mia again? Was Roran proud of me? What was the black flame? What was coming? What was I supposed to do?

I opened my mouth, and the first question came out before I could stop it.

"If death takes everyone in the end... what was the point of living?"

The being smiled as if it know I would ask this question. "Come," it said, standing up. "Follow me."

It led me away from the table, across the soft grass, toward a small stream that I had not noticed before. The water was clear and cold, rushing over smooth stones, and the sound of it was like music.

The being knelt beside the stream and gestured for me to do the same.

"Look into the water," it said.

I looked.

The water was clear, and I could see the bottom, the smooth stones, the gentle current, the occasional flash of a fish swimming past. I could see my own reflection, pale and tired, with black hair streaked with white and hollow eyes.

"Do you see yourself?" the being asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Now watch."

It reached out and touched the surface of the water with its fingertip. Ripples spread outward from the point of contact, distorting my reflection, breaking it into fragments that scattered across the stream.

"...The point of living," the being said, "is not the destination. It is not what waits at the end. Death comes for everyone. That is not a question. That is a fact." It pulled its hand back, and the ripples slowly faded. My reflection returned, piece by piece, until I was looking at myself again.

"But look at the water, Leo. It was disturbed. You could not see yourself clearly. The ripples scattered your reflection, broke it into pieces, made it impossible to see who you were."

It looked at me.

"But the water did not stop being water. The stream did not stop flowing. And your reflection—scattered or whole, was always there. It never left."

I stared at the water.

"The point of living is not to avoid death. The point of living is to be the water. To keep flowing. keep moving, let the ripples come and go and let the stones break your surface and the wind stir your depths, but to never stop being what you are."

It stood and looked down at me.

"Mia’s question assumed that death made life meaningless. But that is backward, Leo. Death gives life meaning. Because it ends, every moment matters. Because it is finite, every choice has weight. Because you will lose the people you love, every second you have with them is a gift."

It turned and walked back toward the table. "But that just what I think. Every being have a different answer to that question."

I sat by the stream for a long moment, staring at my reflection. Then I stood and followed. I sat back down at the table. The being poured more tea into my cup, and I drank.

"Your second question," it said.

I set the cup down and looked at it. "Who are you?" I asked. "Are you the Forgotten One? The one whose name was erased? The one Mia prayed to when no one else would listen?"

The being’s smile faded.

"The Forgotten One...," it said, rolling the words across its tongue like they were made of glass. It tilted its head.

"Names are anchors, little soul. They tether you to the world. They give others a hook to pull you by. I have outgrown many names. I have buried more than you have ever heard."

A pause.

"Call me what you wish. The Forgotten One. The oldest Watcher. The Silence Before the First Word. Or nothing at all. I have answered to worse. I have answered to nothing for so long that even I have forgotten which name was ever truly mine."

The words were simple, quiet. But they carried weight—the weight of centuries, of millennia, of eons that I could not comprehend.

"...Did you hear her?" I asked, and my voice cracked. "Did you want to answer? Or were you just watching, like the rest of them?"

The being asked, "Is this your third question? If not then one more question," it said. "Choose wisely."

I collected my thoughts. There were so many things I wanted to ask. So many things I needed to know. But the being had said it would not answer everything. Just finding out it was The Forgotten One is so shocking. I wanted to ask why you are forgotten? Why is your name not in present? Why no one know you?

But, I could not ask everything so I asked something else.

"Why me? No—not why me. I know you will not answer that. Or you will give me some vague answer that means nothing until later."

The being raised an eyebrow.

"So let me ask something else. Something you might actually answer." I leaned forward. "Are we connected? You and I. Not just the soul-cutting, not just the hiding on Earth. Something deeper. Is there a piece of you in me? Or a piece of me in you?"

The being’s amber eyes gleamed.

"The black flame. The hunger. The way I can burn souls now. That is not just from the Anomaly title, is it? That is you. Or part of you. Something you left in me." I paused. "So tell me. What did you put inside me? And what will it cost me in the end?"

The being was silent for a long moment. Then it smiled. "...That is more than one question, Leo."

I did not apologize. It looked at the eternal sky. Then it looked back at me.

"...Yes," it said. "We are connected. In a way that I cannot fully explain, not because I do not want to, but because you are not ready to understand."

"You know why everyone choose the trial? To get stronger right? But, its also the place where gods choose their apostle. They test mortals and choose them."

The being looked at me. Its amber eyes were sad.

"You are my apostle, Leo. Not because I chose you—I did not. If I had a choice, I would have chosen someone else. Someone like Arthur."

It reached out and touched my chest, over my heart. Its hand was warm.

"The black flame was always yours. It was not a gift I gave you. It was a seed I planted. A door that you had to open yourself." It pulled its hand back. "You opened it in Wayford. When Roran died and you watched the village burn. When you held Mia’s body in your arms. You opened the door, Leo. Not me."

"..."

"It is will. It is hunger. It is greed. It is everything. It is the refusal to disappear. It is the part of you that will not stop fighting, even when there is no reason to keep going."

It stood up and walked to the edge of the mountain and looked out at the valley.

"Become stronger, Leo. Stronger than you are now. Stronger than you think you can be annd when you are ready, I will answer the rest of your questions."

It turned to look at me. "That is all I can say for now."

The sky was darker now. The sun had finished its descent, and the stars were beginning to appear, scattered across the purple-black sky like diamonds dropped on velvet. The being looked up at the stars, and its expression shifted. Something like regret flickered across its face.

"Our time is ending," it said.

I stood up. "But I still have—"

My voice cut off.

Pain exploded through my body, not the sharp pain of a wound, not the dull ache of exhaustion, but something deeper. Something that came from inside my bones, my core, the place where my soul lived.

I fell to my knees.

The ground was soft beneath me, but I did not feel it. I could not feel anything except the pain—white-hot, blinding, all-consuming.

Blood poured from my nose, my ears, the corners of my eyes. My skin felt like it was cracking, splitting open along lines I had never known were there. My bones felt like they were breaking and reforming and breaking again.

I looked up at the being, my vision blurry, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"What... what is happening to me?"

The being knelt beside me. Its amber eyes were calm, but there was something beneath the calm, something that looked like concern.

"...Metamorphosis," it said. "Your body is changing, adapting and becoming what it needs to be." It placed its hand on my forehead. The touch was cool, soothing. "I told you. You are my apostle. But your body could not handle my power. Not yet. So it is... adjusting."

The pain surged, and I screamed.

I do not know how long I lay there, writhing on the ground, feeling my body tear itself apart and put itself back together. The being stayed beside me, its hand on my forehead, its voice a soft murmur that I could not quite understand.

...And then, just before the darkness took me, I heard it speak.

"One piece of advice, Leo. Before you go." Its voice was serious now cold. The voice of something ancient that had seen empires rise and fall.

"Do not trust anyone. Not the gods or the game you used to know and not even... me."

My vision was fading. The stars were blurring together.

"You are alone in this world. You always have been. The sooner you accept that, the stronger you will become but do not let that consume you. I knew there are still some people who cares for you."

The darkness swallowed me.

_

[Unknown POV]

The mountain was empty now.

The table still sat beneath the ancient tree, and the two cups still rested on its surface, one half-full, one empty.

The tea had gone cold, and the steam that had risen from its surface had faded into nothing, leaving behind only the memory of warmth and the faint scent of wildflowers that lingered in the air like a whisper that refused to fade.

The valley stretched out below, eternal and indifferent, its golden leaves falling in a slow, endless dance that had been continuing for longer than any mortal mind could comprehend. The stream still murmured over its stones, and the wind still moved through the grass, and the stars still watched from above.

But the boy was gone.

His body had dissolved into light, piece by piece, beginning at the edges of his fingers and spreading inward until there was nothing left but a faint golden glow that hung in the air for a moment before fading into the darkness.

The blood that had pooled on the grass had dried and flaked away, carried off by the wind like dust from a grave that had been left unattended for too long. The being stood at the edge of the mountain, its amber eyes fixed on the place where the boy had been.

It did not move. It did not breathe. It simply stood there, watching the empty space, and the weight of centuries pressed down on its shoulders like a mountain that had been carved from grief and regret.

Leo...

The name echoed in its mind, soft and fragile, like a prayer that had been whispered in the dark and forgotten by everyone except the one who had spoken it.

The being closed its eyes.

"...I am sorry."

The words came out quiet, barely louder than the wind, and they hung in the air between the mountain and the sky like a leaf caught in a current, spinning slowly, unsure of where it was supposed to land.

"I am sorry, Leo. You should not have to bear this any of this. The weight of what is coming... the weight of what we have done..." It opened its eyes and looked up at the stars.

"You have to bear the responsibility because of the sins we committed. The Watchers’ sins. The new ones’ sins. The silence that watched us all — its sins. The ones who came before broke the world and left the pieces for others to clean up."

Its voice cracked, just slightly, just enough for the wind to notice.

"...You and all races. You have to bear what we did. What we failed to do. What we were too afraid to do." The tree behind it shed a cluster of leaves, and they drifted down toward the valley, spinning and turning in the fading light.

"You have to walk this path again. The same path that others have walked before you. The same path that broke them. The same path that killed them." The being’s hands clenched at its sides. "...I know you will lose a lot of things. People you love. Pieces of yourself that you will never get back. I know this path will break you. It breaks everyone, eventually..."

A smile flickered across its face—not a happy smile, not a cruel smile, but something in between. Something that knew pain and had learned to live with it.

"But I also know how stubborn you are."

The smile widened, just a fraction.

"You will get up every time. No matter how many times the world knocks you down, no matter how many times you want to stay on the ground and close your eyes and never open them again... you will get up. That is why I chose you because you were the most worthy."

Its amber eyes gleamed.

"Because you do not know how to stay down. You keep fighting, even when there is no reason to fight. you keep hoping, even when hope has abandoned everyone else."

The wind picked up, rustling the being’s black hair, carrying the scent of pine and earth and something older.

"When you learn the truth—the real truth, not the fragments I have given you, or the pieces you have put together on your own, you will be angry."

It nodded slowly.

"You have every right to be angry. At me, at the gods, the world. Everyone who lied to you and used you and kept you in the dark."

It looked down at its hands.

"I do not ask for your forgiveness. It is not mine to ask for. What was done to you all... what was stolen from you all..."

It closed its eyes.

"All of it was wrong and you are right to hate me for it."

The being was quiet for a long moment. The tree shed more leaves, and the stream murmured below, and the stars continued their slow, eternal march across the sky.

"So I am sorry, Leo. Do not ever forgive me. Do not ever let yourself forget what was taken from you. Let your anger be a fire that keeps you warm. Let it be a blade that stays sharp."

It opened its eyes.

"But do not let it consume you. Do not let it turn you into something that cannot love, cannot hope, cannot feel anything except the need for revenge."

It turned back toward the place where the boy had been.

"There are people in this world who love you. People who would give their lives for you without hesitation. People who see something in you that you cannot see in yourself." Its voice softened. "Do not push them away. Do not carry this burden alone this time. Let them help you. Let them hold you when you cannot stand. Let them fight beside you when the darkness closes in."

The being raised its hand, and the air around it shimmered.

"You are an anomaly, Leo. You always have been. That is not a curse. It is not a punishment. It is a gift, the only gift I could give you."

The mountain began to fade.

The edges of the sky curled inward like paper caught in a fire, and the stars winked out one by one, and the tree in the valley dissolved into shadows that scattered across the darkness.

"You are not bound by the rules that bind others. You are not limited by the paths that have been laid out for everyone else. You are free, Leo. More free than you know."

The being’s body began to fade, its edges blurring, its form dissolving into the darkness that was swallowing everything.

"But do not be alone."

The voice was barely a whisper now, soft and fragile, like the last breath of someone who had been holding on for too long.

"You were alone for so long on Earth and even here. You do not have to be alone anymore." The mountain was gone. The tree was gone. The stream and the grass and the sky were gone. Only the darkness remained.

...And the voice.

"Live, Leo for yourself. For the people who love you. The ones you have lost and the ones you still have."

A pause.

"And when you finally understand the truth... when you see the whole picture and know why all of this happened..."

The voice trembled.

"Remember that I am... sorry but don’t forgive me."

The darkness swallowed the last of the light.

...And then there was nothing.