Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 138: The Forest (2)

The forest didn't open up much. It wasn't trying to be welcoming. The trees pressed in at odd angles, old trunks twisted with time, their roots heaving out of the soil like bones that had decided they were done being buried.

The path, if it could still be called that, dipped into a slope now. Snow had melted here, only in patches, leaving behind damp earth and flattened leaves that stuck to boots like guilt.

Lindarion stepped around a moss-covered stone. His foot slipped slightly, then caught. Not enough to stumble. Just enough to remind him that the ground didn't care who he was.

'Definitely not a normal road.'

Behind him, Ardan's boots made a steady, deliberate crunch. One that never sped up. Never slowed down.

Ahead, Ren was crouched on a fallen branch, poking at a cluster of mushrooms with a stick. Not for any reason. Just because they were there and she had a stick.

'She's acting like a toddler despite how strong she is..'

Meren trailed after her, muttering something about why the mushrooms were purple.

Lira hadn't spoken since they passed the last ridge. Her eyes kept scanning the treeline. Not nervously. Just out of habit. The kind of person who knew silence could hide teeth.

Lindarion glanced back once.

She didn't look at him. But her posture shifted, just slightly, like she'd felt the weight of his glance and filed it away somewhere.

He kept walking.

The cold here wasn't biting. It was the kind that waited. Damp. Patient. Like it wanted to sneak into your sleeves and stay there for a week.

Birds were absent.

No wind.

Just steps and breath and the occasional insult from Meren directed toward an innocent patch of frost.

Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack. The sword on his side shifted with the motion. Still new. Still unfamiliar. But he liked how it moved with him instead of against.

He looked at the back of Ren's head.

"How did we find the weirdest part of the forest?"

She didn't turn.

"We didn't find it," she said. "It's just meant to happen."

Meren groaned. "That's not funny. That seems more like a curse."

Ren poked one of the mushrooms again. It made a soft popping sound. Like a hiccup. She grinned.

Lira stepped around them without breaking stride.

Lindarion kept pace.

His eyes moved through the trees. Branches creaked above, slow and high. Nothing urgent. Just age.

He let his thoughts drift slightly.

'Feels too quiet. Not danger quiet. Just… way to still.'

His hand brushed against the grip of his sword again. He didn't draw it. Just liked knowing it was there.

He glanced up.

The light filtered in through the branches like someone had spilled cold milk across the sky. Pale. Thin. It touched everything without warming any of it.

They kept walking.

No one said much. That was fine. The silence wasn't heavy. It was the kind that didn't need to be filled. Just carried.

Every now and then, Meren would trip slightly and pretend it hadn't happened.

Ren would look like she was about to whistle, then stop herself like even she didn't want to hear it.

Ardan was just behind, always the same three steps away, like he had a measuring string in his head and didn't trust anyone to get too close or too far.

Lira walked like her shadow weighed more than her body.

And Lindarion…

He walked like someone who knew the world could take everything, and hadn't decided whether it was worth trying to keep things yet.

But he was still walking.

So that meant something.

The trees parted slightly ahead.

He raised a hand. Not as a command. Just habit.

The rest slowed.

He stepped forward, eyes scanning the path ahead.

A clearing.

Small.

Round.

And at the center, a single wooden post. Weathered. Tilted slightly left.

A trail marker.

He stepped closer.

There was a mark on it.

An old symbol.

Faded, but not forgotten.

He didn't recognize it.

Lira stepped up beside him.

"I know that crest," she said.

Lindarion just looked at her.

'From where?'

He didn't speak it aloud.

He didn't need to.

Some things didn't belong to the present.

But they still left their shadows behind.

They went past it and continued their road ahead.

—

The frost changed as they kept walking.

Lindarion stepped around a crooked root and crouched low, fingers brushing against a dark spot in the snow. It hadn't fully melted, but the color was wrong. Too gray. Too wet.

He pressed two fingers into it. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Not warm. Not frozen either.

'Someone passed through here. Not long ago.'

He didn't call the others over yet. Just listened. The air was still. No wind. Just the sound of damp leaves pressing into each other, and the soft creak of branches above.

Behind him, boots approached. Light steps. Ren.

She leaned beside him, eyes squinting. "That's blood."

"Not old."

"Still sticky?"

"Bit," he said.

She rocked back on her heels. "That's promising."

Meren spoke up behind them. "Define promising. Like a deer? Or someone with a sword maybe?"

"No tracks," Ardan said. His voice came low from behind a tree. "Snow's wrong. Something wiped it."

Lira stood just off the path, arms crossed, gaze distant. Her boots barely disturbed the snow. Like she didn't weigh enough to press into the world.

Lindarion stood. Wiped his fingers clean.

The trees leaned in here, not tightly, but with purpose. They grew at angles that didn't feel accidental.

He scanned the line of trunks, the ridge of frost against their bases.

Then he saw it.

A post. Half-hidden under a collapsed branch. Old, but upright. A bit of carved wood near the top. Nothing dramatic. Just a ring cut into the grain. A mark for patrol routes. The kind no one used anymore.

He stepped toward it, brushing frost from the surface.

Ren whistled low. "Well that's ancient."

"Watchpost marker," Lira said. "Third ring. Long retired."

Ardan knelt nearby. "It shouldn't still be standing."

Meren blinked at it. "Does it mean anything?"

"Yeah," Lindarion muttered. "Means someone thought this area was worth watching."

He glanced up. A frayed strip of cloth hung near the top. Dark gray. Not fluttering. Just hanging.

'That definitely wasn't meant to be there. Not originally.'

"Signal," he said.

Ren nodded. "Or a test."

"No bird crap on it," Meren offered helpfully. "So… recent?"

Ardan rose. "This is too clean. I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Lindarion said.

The snow thickened off the trail. But even here, near the post, it was thinner. Worn by passage. Someone, or something, had walked here. More than once.

He crouched again. Brushed aside a patch of leaves near the base. Underneath, the soil was soft.

Pressed down.

Not dug. Just stepped on. Repeatedly.

He looked up at Lira.

She was already watching him.

No words exchanged. Just a small nod. Confirmation.

'We're still not alone in this forest.'

And that wasn't new.

But it was no longer theoretical.