Ny's Writing Blog ✍️

The Blackpine Forest had changed.

Trees twisted into shapes that resembled screaming faces. Roots pulsed like veins. The snow was never white anymore—it shimmered with a faint pink stain, as if remembering every spill of blood.

Kael and Elora lived deep within its corrupted heart, but peace never came.

Every day, Kael grew weaker. Every night, the curse grew stronger.

His skin split open unpredictably, exposing raw red muscle that trembled in the cold. Sometimes his spine would tear from his back, reshaping into antlers before retracting again. His ribs snapped and reset beneath his skin, each break echoing through the forest like brittle bone chimes.

Elora healed him again and again—stitching flesh with magic, regrowing tissue with whispered spells—but her power was fading. Dark circles bruised her eyes. Her hands shook constantly.

She knew magic could not win a war against hunger.

And the forest knew it too.


—

One night, they heard the hunters before they saw them.

Not a small band like before—
An army.

Dozens of torches glowed between the trees, cutting through the dark like a thousand burning eyes. The villagers had finally united. Witches and monsters were to be cleansed. Purified. Destroyed.

Elora’s breath caught. “Kael… we have to run.”

But he was already on the ground, body convulsing violently. His arms split open at the elbows, bone bursting through like jagged blades. A scream tore out of him—raw, animal, agonizing.

“Elora…” he gasped, his voice wet with blood, “I can’t… hold it back.”

She knelt beside him, glowing hands hovering over his torn flesh.
“I won’t let you turn again. I won’t lose you.”

He grabbed her wrist. Hard. Too hard.

“Elora,” he rasped. “If I turn… I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t care!”

“You should,” he bared his teeth, “because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

His jaw cracked, angling into something inhuman. Elora felt his pulse—rapid, frantic, hollow.

The wendigo was seconds from breaking free.

And the hunters were almost upon them.


—

The first arrow struck Elora in the shoulder.

She didn’t scream, but Kael did—an ear-splitting howl that rattled the branches and sent birds exploding from the treetops. His partially formed antlers tore through his scalp, blood streaming down his face like red tears.

More arrows flew. One sliced across his side, another embedded in his leg.

The forest went silent.

Then it woke.

Roots erupted from the ground, skewering hunters like meat on hooks. Blood splattered against the trees. Limbs tore free. Screams rose and were swallowed by the soil itself.

But there were too many.

Torches closed in.

Arrows rained down.

And in the center of it all, Kael snapped.

His human form dissolved—skin peeling away like wet parchment, muscles tearing open as a skeletal frame emerged beneath. His jaw unhinged wider than any creature should allow. Ribs splayed outward like a cage of knives. His eyes burned with that hollow, endless white.

He became wendigo.

Fully.

Horribly.

Beautifully monstrous.

And he attacked.

He tore through hunters with a ferocity he’d never unleashed before—spines ripped out in a single motion, skulls crushed, bodies ripped in half. Blood painted the trees in thick dark streaks. The ground churned with organs and shattered bone.

But with every kill, the curse tightened its grip.

With every kill, the man inside faded.

“Kael!” Elora screamed, staggering through the carnage, blood soaking her dress. “Please! Come back!”

The wendigo turned toward her.

And for the first time…

He didn’t recognize her.

He charged.

Elora raised a shaking hand. “Kael, STOP!”

But the creature slammed into her, pinning her to a tree. Its claws wrapped around her throat, cold and trembling with hunger.

“Elora…” His voice flickered inside the monster’s snarling breath. “Run…”

But she didn’t.

She touched his face—his monstrous, bone-split, blood-drenched face—with gentle fingers.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Enough to end you.”

A spell ignited in her palm—pure white fire. The same spell that had once saved him.

Kael’s eyes widened.

“No… Elora…”

“It’s the only way.”

She pressed her burning hand to his chest.

The wendigo shrieked, body twisting, flesh melting, bones cracking as the curse burned. He tried to pull away, but she held him tighter, even as the flames scorched her skin.

“Elora!” he choked, the human voice rising for the first time. “Please—stop— it hurts—”

“I know,” she sobbed, tears falling onto his burning ribs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The wendigo’s antlers crumbled to ash.

His claws shrank.

His bones collapsed inward.

And Kael—just Kael—fell into her arms, shivering, small, human… dying.

She lowered him gently to the blood-soaked snow.

His breathing was shallow. His eyes glassy. Smoke rose from his torn chest.

“Elora…” he whispered weakly, “Did… I hurt you?”

“Never,” she said, stroking his hair. “You saved me. Every day.”

His lips trembled.
“I didn’t want… to leave you alone.”

She pressed her forehead to his.
“You won’t.”

His eyes flickered shut.

His heartbeat stopped.

The forest went quiet.

Elora kissed his cold cheek. Then, with shaking hands, she drew a dagger of bone and sliced her own palm open.

“My life for yours,” she whispered, letting her blood drip onto his chest. “Take whatever I have left.”

The forest listened.

It always listened.

And this time… it refused.

Her magic sparked. Then fizzled.
Her blood steamed. Then froze.
Her heartbeat slowed.

Elora collapsed beside him, her fingers entwined with his.

And the Blackpine Forest swallowed their bodies gently—roots curling around them like mourning arms—two souls tangled together even in death.

Some say the forest mourned for a century.

Others say, on winter nights, you can hear two voices whispering in the wind:

“I love you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I remember.”

But most terrifying of all…

Some say the forest now hungers in their place.

The End.