Chapter 8: A Collision of Worlds

Weeks bled into a month. The Whispering Woods, once a symbol of terror, became my harsh teacher and my reluctant sanctuary. The bond sickness did not vanish—it was a constant, grinding hum in the background of my existence, a ghost limb that still ached for its other half. But I was learning to live with it. More than that, I was learning to use the silence, the solitude, to listen. My connection to the forest deepened in ways I could never have imagined. The ability I’d discovered with...