Narrator

Yule’s morning shop at the open market was a necessary stop, yet with every step to it he sensed a dread. So close yet far away in his mind, his gaze shifted around unfocused, sinister voices filling his head, that sensation coming down over his body. His chest feels heavy as the unintelligible murmurs in his head grow louder, each word an echo that clawed at his sanity. He clutched at his vest, feet moving on their own accord, away. A dull hum replaced the world around him, guiding him against his wishes to a new destination, to the outskirts. It's as if the trees themselves beckoned him closer, closer, closer, until he zones out and starts walking towards the forest that surrounds the whole village.

His eyes pry open to a towering tree with vibrant cyan leaves standing before him. As if never seen before, he observes the way leaves gently fall to the ground, creating a soft carpet of colors. The trunk, sturdy and gray, bears the marks of time and looks rough, and he's more aware of nature's elegance than ever.

The air is thick with the scent of damp earth, and the heaviness in his chest increases as he navigates through the maze made by the shadows and trees. After the nth mindless turn, Yule looks around, as his eyes fall onto a ghostly figure among the shadows lurking and mirroring his every step, it's presence sending shivers down his spine. He starts running, dropping most of the leaves in the process, and with it the vices.