Inkling 2025 - Flipbook - Page 28
soft, blurred, damp. I walked for what felt like
hours, maybe days, until 昀椀nally, a clearing
opened before me. Roots twisted underfoot,
and a group of Elris sat beneath an ancient
tree, singing in a voice I couldn’t understand.
“You… haven’t changed,” a voice said in my
mind. It was hers. My mother. But it sounded
like mist. Like memories.
They looked up.
I ran until my lungs burned, trying to escape
the forest, but I never found the edge. The
mist circled endlessly, and the trees moved
when I wasn’t looking. I left marks. I tried to
track the stars. But the forest rewrote itself
like a living maze. For three days, I wandered.
Hungry. Thirsty. Lost in more ways than one.
And then it began.
Their hollow eyes landed on me, quiet and
searching. And I recognized them. The old
man who sold candy at the market. The
seamstress who vanished years ago. And
then—my mother.
Her eyes were no longer kind. Her smile was
like frozen glass—beautiful and cold. My
heart thundered as I stepped back, and the
crack of a branch underfoot shattered the
silence.
All of them—every Elris—turned to me.
28 | INKLING 2025
I ran.
A terrible itch bloomed between my
shoulders. Something squirmed under my
skin. I stumbled to a stream and saw my
re昀氀ection. Feathers were breaking through
my back. The light in my eyes had started to
dim. My scream came out as laughter—soft,
