Fate Rewritten: A Life Between Time and Stars

chap 2:Footsteps on the Bloodline

Chapter 2: Footsteps on the Bloodline

I whipped my head around, but saw nothing. Only the swaying leaves and the hiss of wind. The voice lingered in my mind, so clear it was as if she had whispered directly into it. A shiver ran down my spine, and I instinctively backed away.

"Is someone there?" I called, trying to keep my voice steady. No reply.

Ha… ha… Maybe I was losing my mind. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts, forcing myself to piece together what I’d just seen and heard. My mind jumped back to that strange girl who had once approached me at school with an odd question: “Do you want to experience death firsthand?”

At the time I’d laughed it off, thinking it was some creepy joke. But now…

Before I could think further, a faint sound reached my ears. Something moving. The sound of a body brushing through the undergrowth.

"You… are one of them," a deep voice said from the shadows. "Come with me."

I barely had time to react before my instincts screamed at me to retreat. I turned, but my back was pressed to a wall of tangled roots. I twisted to the left just in time to avoid the first strike, but the second blow grazed my shoulder, leaving a burning pain.

"Damn it!" I clenched my teeth and grabbed a thick branch from the ground. I didn’t know if it would help, but I had no other choice.

The figure stopped, tilting his head as though studying me.

"It seems… you will live longer than I expected."

Before I could respond, a strange sound echoed from deep within the forest—like a bell, but metallic, resonating again and again. The man turned sharply, then slowly stepped back into the shadows and disappeared as if he’d never been there.

I was alone again, in the depths of a dark, silent forest.

And the sound of the bell… was getting closer.

The bell rang again. But this time… it wasn’t far away. It was right in front of me, echoing from somewhere in the circular clearing, deep in the forest.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing, holding my breath. In the moonlight, the old bronze bell hung from a weathered wooden pillar, swaying slightly. The rope was frayed and dark, with faint reddish stains like old, dried blood—though I couldn’t be sure. I blurted out, “What on earth happened here?” after recalling all the horrifying scenes I had witnessed earlier. A chill ran through me.

I forced myself to step closer, feeling as though each step was pounding against my own heartbeat. But just as I reached for the bell, the sound of rustling footsteps behind me made me freeze.

The sound grew closer… and then quickened.

I spun around. Out of the darkness, a figure stumbled toward me, collapsing onto the ground right at the edge of the clearing. Moonlight revealed a face streaked with dirt and sweat

Taichi.

“Ha… ha… you…” he gasped, eyes wide with terror, trembling as though he had just seen something unspeakable.

I wanted to ask a dozen questions at once, but one pushed itself to the front: “Why are you here?”

“Taichi, you…” I started, hesitating. But he cut me off: “There’s… there’s something chasing us… me… and you.”

I glanced around. Outside the clearing, the forest loomed, the trees like watchful statues. The voice of Bap, normally playful, was absent. Taichi bent over, clutching his chest, breathing as if on the verge of collapse.

“How did you… end up here?” I asked again.

Taichi coughed, then stammered: “I… I don’t know either… I remember walking… then… there was… something… everything went dark… when I woke up… I was in this forest.”

His words echoed my own experience—being thrown here without warning, without reason.

The bell rang again, louder this time, dragging out each note. Bap flinched, stepping back. I stayed still, unsure why…

“What are you doing?!” Taichi cried in alarm.

I didn’t answer. Something deep inside urged me forward—to touch the rope, to wake whatever truth was hiding here. Maybe this was the only way out.

I had just reached for the rope when a low, gravelly voice called out from beyond the clearing:

“Don’t touch it.”

Taichi and I turned. From the shadows stepped an older man, wearing a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat pulled low. Moonlight slid across his face—tired eyes, cold and unyielding.

“I didn’t bring you here,” he said quietly but firmly, “but if you want to survive this place… stay away from that bell.”

Bap muttered, “Who are you?”

The man didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bell, then back at us. “Call me… Quigo.”

Quigo led us away from the clearing, down a different path. The trail was overgrown, and he told us it had been “a very long time” since anyone came here, though he didn’t remember exactly how long. In this forest, time felt different—it didn’t flow like it did outside. People entered… but rarely left.

“That bell…”—he paused for a moment—“summons something. And when it comes, no one survives.”

Taichi shivered, but I saw a strange glint of curiosity in his eyes. What could be so powerful that even saying its name was avoided? I didn’t know.

We reached a small clearing with a makeshift shelter. Quigo told us this was the only place he could live. In the firelight, I noticed his thin frame, the scars along his jaw, and the worn blade at his side.

Taichi sat in the corner, watching him. I stayed silent, studying Quigo. The way he avoided certain topics, the way he kept a knife close—he was always ready for danger.

The next morning, as Quigo fetched water, I asked quietly: “Why did you help us?”

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t… I just couldn’t leave you there.”

I gave a faint smile. “Can we trust you?”

He didn’t answer.

At dawn, Quigo marked a route on his map, showing us how to escape the forest. We followed him and Taichi. But even as we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that safety was an illusion.

The bell’s sound returned—long, drawn out, cutting through the leaves. It didn’t just echo in the air—it seeped into my bones. I froze, heartbeat pounding again as that sound seemed to pull me back toward the clearing…

How many times has it been? I can’t remember anymore. Today, we really pounded a lot. Suddenly, I felt something change. The sound of the forest — the chirping of insects, the rustle of leaves — suddenly vanished completely. The air became dense and heavy, as if it had been pressed down. I could clearly hear my own heartbeat.

Ahead, a massive tree trunk blocked the path. Its roots jutted out of the ground, twisting like dry snakes. Right between the roots was something strange — a dusty, red backpack lying there. I stepped closer, my hand trembling as I reached for the zipper.

Inside… was a student uniform exactly like mine, though torn, stained with mud, and marked with dark blotches. No name, no distinguishing marks except for a crumpled piece of paper tucked into the pocket.

I pulled it out. On the paper were only four clumsy words, scribbled:

“Don’t trust the map.”