Chapter 1 — Exile in the Depthwoods

Naomi

The Depthwoods stretched endlessly before Naomi, the trees towering like ancient sentinels, their twisted trunks spiraling toward an unseen sky. The dense, oppressive canopy overhead blocked all but faint ribbons of bioluminescent light that spilled from fungi clinging to the bark. The forest glowed in its ever-shifting, greenish hue, and every breath of the forest felt alive, invasive. The air was thick with damp earth and decay, mingling with a sweetness she had long since learned to distrust. Beneath her boots, the forest floor gave faint, pulsing tremors, the roots alive with a rhythm that had stopped surprising her but remained impossible to ignore. She adjusted the strap of her pack, its contents clinking softly. Her tools for survival. Her lifeline.

Naomi’s steps were careful, deliberate. Here, even the smallest misstep could awaken the Depthwoods’ attention. It was not cruelty that guided the forest—it was something older, something instinctual. Predator and sanctuary, it consumed the careless without hesitation, yet it had spared her. For now. The magical mark etched along her left arm—twisting vines in sharp relief against her dark skin—tingled faintly, warning her of the forest’s shifting moods.

A low hum vibrated through the air, almost imperceptible. Naomi froze, the sound prickling at the edge of her senses. Her piercing green eyes scanned the underbrush, her breathing slow and even despite the tension curling in her chest. The hum swelled briefly, like a held breath, before retreating to its usual subtle thrum. The Depthwoods was watching. It always was.

Her fingers brushed the hilt of her iron knife, its grip worn smooth from constant use. Practical. Reliable. Unlike people. She scanned her surroundings again, her gaze catching on a faint shimmer to her left. She knew what that meant. The Depthwoods’ games had begun.

Naomi inhaled deeply, grounding herself. Her senses were not to be trusted here—she knew that too well. The shimmer grew, coalescing into a figure that made her chest tighten. Elder Kiran emerged from the shadows, his form so perfect and familiar that for a heartbeat, she forgot he wasn’t real. His staff of carved ash wood was gripped tightly in his hand, his face—a mask of wisdom she had once trusted—twisted with disgust and anger. Just as it had been in the final moments before her exile.

“Naomi,” the illusion hissed, its voice hollow and echoing. “You betrayed us. You brought death to our circle.”

A sharp pang shot through her chest, anger curling against the flood of guilt that came unbidden. Her hands trembled at her sides, though her voice remained steady. “You’re not him.” The words were quiet, clipped, but spoken more to herself than the thing before her. Her fingers twitched, brushing the vines on her arm, which flared faintly in response to her emotions.

The illusion stepped closer, the forest itself seeming to warp with it. Shadows lengthened, roots twisted unnaturally, and the underbrush seemed to constrict. “You can’t outrun what you’ve done. You don’t belong here,” the voice intoned, shifting now—a chorus of familiar tones. Her clan. Their faces flashed in her mind: friends, neighbors, family. Accusing. Betraying. Gone.

Naomi’s boot scraped against the moss-covered ground as she stepped back. “Stop it,” she muttered, her voice hard but strained. The vines on her arm burned brighter, green light searing through the gloom. The Depthwoods fed on her turmoil; she knew this, but the knowledge did little to stop the rising tide of emotion.

Her hand shot out, trembling but purposeful. “Enough!” The glow from her arm blazed, and the illusion wavered, then shattered into fragments of light that dissolved into the forest. The oppressive hum retreated as the Depthwoods fell silent once more.

Naomi exhaled, forcing her breath to steady. Her heart drummed painfully against her ribs, her fingers flexing as the glow of her mark dimmed to its usual faint shimmer. The Depthwoods wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t kind either. It tested, it pushed, it forced her to confront the things she most wanted to bury. “Nice try,” she muttered under her breath, though her voice lacked its usual bite. The forest didn’t care for her barbs, but she said them anyway. It felt less crushingly lonely that way.

The path ahead had shifted again. It always did when she lingered too long. She adjusted her pack and pressed on, her steps precise yet determined, weaving through the tangled underbrush as though it were second nature. It had to be, now.

Her thoughts drifted as she walked, unbidden memories surfacing like ghosts summoned by the forest’s whispers. The village came into sharp focus in her mind: the wooden homes etched with carvings of sun and moon, the scent of fresh herbs drying in the meeting hall, the laughter of children playing in the fields. It was a place she had once belonged. Her hands, once calloused from grinding leaves and roots into salves, were now hardened by wielding a blade, scaling trees, and tearing plants from the earth in desperation. How far she had fallen.

The image of Elder Kiran returned, but this time it wasn’t an illusion. It was a memory, raw and vivid. His lifeless body on the ground, blood staining the earth. Her voice cracking as she swore her innocence. And the council’s faces, grim and unforgiving, as they cast her out.

Naomi stopped suddenly, leaning against the rough bark of a tree. Her breath came quicker, her chest tight. The Depthwoods’ hum grew louder, pressing against her senses. Her nails cut into her palms, the sharp pain grounding her. “Not now,” she said through gritted teeth. “Not now.” She forced the memories back, shoving them into the recesses of her mind. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here. Not ever.

The hum receded, but the forest’s presence lingered, a shadow at the edge of her awareness. Naomi pushed off the tree and kept walking. She had to find the sanctuary. It was the only thread she had, however frayed. Maybe it could clear her name. Maybe it couldn’t. Regardless, she had to try.

Ahead, the forest began to change. The canopy opened slightly, faint bioluminescent light filtering through in thin, glowing ribbons. The underbrush thickened, thorny vines weaving into walls that narrowed the path. Naomi’s mark tingled faintly, her instincts sharpening. The Depthwoods was guiding her—or herding her. Either way, she would follow. There was no other choice.

The path tightened, the claws of the vines brushing her sleeves. Her pulse quickened, but her grip on her knife was steady. As the path opened into a clearing, she paused, her gaze sweeping the space. Glowing mushrooms clustered at the edges, their faint luminescence casting eerie shadows. At the clearing’s center stood a twisted tree, its bark blackened and split as though by a lightning strike. The air carried the sharp tang of sap and something metallic, acrid.

Naomi approached slowly, her mark tingling stronger now. Her eyes darted over the shadows, searching for movement. “What now?” she murmured, her voice dry but taut with tension.

The tree shuddered.

She froze, her knife already in her hand. The blackened bark shifted, twisting as though alive, and oozed a dark, resin-like substance. The hum of the Depthwoods intensified, the air growing heavier. She took a step back as the splits in the bark widened, reshaping into something... human.

The figure emerging from the tree was almost familiar. Its form flickered, indistinct, but the eyes—green, faintly glowing, just like hers—pierced her to her core. A jolt of recognition surged through her, though she couldn’t place why. It tilted its head, its mouth opening as if to speak, but what came out was a low, guttural sound that sent a chill sliding down her spine.

The Depthwoods pulsed around her, its rhythm matching the pounding of her heart. Her mark flared brightly, unbidden, as though responding to the figure. Naomi’s grip on her knife faltered, her breath catching. And then, as quickly as it had come, the figure dissolved, vanishing into the air. The blackened tree stood silent and still once more.

Naomi exhaled shakily, her shoulders stiff with tension. Her mark tingled, the forest’s lingering presence tugging at the edge of her awareness. Whatever the Depthwoods was trying to show her, she wasn’t ready to understand it. Not yet.

She turned back to the shifting path, her jaw set. Her thoughts sharpened, pulling her focus back to her goal. The sanctuary was out there. She would find it. She would survive. And she would uncover the truth—about her exile, about the Depthwoods, and about the person she had become.

Naomi pressed deeper into the forest, its whispers trailing close behind.