Umirin sits still, the weight of the fawn's gaze on his body far too heavy to allow him to move. He feels—pierced, by those eyes.

This is no fawn that he is looking at.

When it speaks, its voice does not come from the fawn's body itself, no, it comes from—from everywhere?

Umirin can hear it in the echoes of the cave around them, he can feel it rise out of the ground beneath them, he can sense it come from within his own bones. The voice of all that has been, is now, and is yet to come.

"Blessings," it says simply.

Umirin swallows a lump, overcome by how small he feels. How stricken.

The Elders have broken their circle, the five hulking forms having moved and cowering behind him and Shani, as if the two of them could possibly protect them from anything that may come now.

"B-Blessings," Shani is the first one to muster up enough of himself to speak, his voice shaking with uncertainty. Umirin can merely stare at the fawn. At the God before them.

He feels gooseflesh rise over his skin as the Divine Beast replies, the flow of time itself seeming to shiver as it speaks, "I know you," it tells Shani, "you called me to life."

Shani stays plastered to Umirin's body, but nods slowly, taking a deep breath, "I—yeah, I d-did. That w-was, uhm, the deal with the...Elders," he explains, likely unnecessarily, as Umirin suspects the deity before them already knows all of this.

The fawn tips its head upward then, gazes at the Elders huddled behind them. Umirin glances over his shoulder to find their heads ducked and eyes averted.

"The Elders," the Divine Beast remarks, and rises to its feet, walking its way around Umirin and Shani to approach the Soulbiters. Every tap of its hooves against the stone floor of the cave echoes with a depth and volume it should realistically not have to it, "is that what you have come to call them?" it asks as it approaches the Soulbiters, comes to a stop before them.

"Y-Yes," Umirin finally finds his voice, feeling too guilty letting his poor husband handle all of the talking, "B-Because they were the...first. They are the oldest," he explains, his voice trembling just as much as Shani's. He can't help it. His heart aches with the ethereal wave of sanctity that grips it. He is unnerved at having the fawn behind him, but too afraid to move himself around to face it.

"How many have come since them?" the Divine Beast asks, then seems to consider its words, "How many have come of them?" it corrects.

Umirin swallows, shuddering at the weight of such an inquiry, "N-No one knows, b-but, each stripe on them was a life t-taken," he replies, shifting his head back to study the completely silver speckled Elders, whom still remain deathly silent.

"Much has been lost, then," the Divine Beast concludes, and Umirin trembles when he hears it walk back around them again, standing in front of them. Its footfalls echo heavily. As heavy as the earth. As heavy as their sins.

"Y-Yes, o-over the g-generations," Shani confirms meekly, still clinging to Umirin. Umirin holds him close as he has up to now, though he isn't sure there would be anything he could do should the Divine Beast decide to turn hostile.

The fawn merely regards them in silence for a few long moments. Umirin has to close his eyes as the silence engulfs them thickly, reveling in the comforting blackout for a moment. He belatedly realizes that there is a faint, deep thrum emerging through the quiet.

He can hear the Divine Beast's heartbeat.

"And yet, you gave up even more to bring me here now," it finally speaks after far too long.

Umirin blinks his eyes open, unsure what to say to such a remark, "It h-had to be done," he settles on in the end. What else is there to say?

"You are both monsters of your own making," the Divine Beast tilts its head, its ears twitching with seeming curiosity, "ones you need not have become."

Umirin doesn't miss how Shani glances at his left hand for a brief moment. Before he can interject though, his husband turns his eyes back to the fawn, "T-That's not t-true," he contests, though his tone is too fragile to come off as rebellious, "We h-had to protect each o-other. K-Keep our promises to them," he glances at the Elders as he explains, "t-there was no other w-way," he swallows heavily.

Umirin nods. They know what they've done. It's the only things they could've done. This God need not condemn them further.

"You knew where you would end up, and chose to go down that road anyways," the beast murmurs, seemingly ruminating on the concept for a moment, "because you believed it to be for the best, no matter the cost," it really does sound like it's trying to understand. Umirin struggles to keep track of its endlessly reverberating voice.

"Yes," he confirms. That is exactly what happened.

The fawn tips its head into a gesture akin to a nod, "I see," it replies, pausing for a moment before continuing, "the line between bravery and foolishness seems to be a thin one you humans constantly walk."

Much as he would like to, Umirin cannot disagree.

"Most would not go as far as you have to achieve their means," the Divine Beast says, "I would call that brave."

"T-Thank you," Shani mumbles, trying his best to smile a bit, ever soft at heart as he is wont to be.

The Divine Beast looks upon the Elders again, "And most would not have been as foolish as you to make your mistake," it tells them.

Umirin grimaces, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Here goes, the big bear in the cave, the glaring problem. He's been wondering how this discussion would come to pass.

He observes the fawn's coat as it stands there, considers if it could have truly happened to anyone, not to notice before it was too late. The fur is no longer pure, snow white as it had been. There are strands of silver, stripes and swirls, marked into it. The rin. Much akin to the stripes on the Soulbiters.

He hears one of the Elders finally speak up, "Wee regreettt," it groans, its voice heaving.

The fawn, the Divine Beast, the Heart of the Forest, nods once more, "The Forest knows," it says simply, "the Forest forgives."

A quiet tension in the chamber gently gives with those words. All at once, Umirin hears five thuds behind them. He finally dares to properly turn to look, shifting Shani along with him, only to stop short at the sight of the Soulbiter forms melting away, like oil melts in a lantern. It is quiet, and quick, and left behind are five—men.

The five hunters.

The fawn regards this calmly, the cave absorbing away the melted sluice of what had been monstrous, hulking forms of the Elders, "You have kept my child well fed," it tells the hunters, and Umirin shudders to comprehend the might of a being that would call the never-ending Forest its child, "You have righted your wrong," it nods, seemingly pleased with what has been achieved.

Umirin prays that that means all of this is good, after all. That his, and Shani's, souls being lost was worth something grander, at least.

The five hunters, one by one, slowly sit up, their faces pale and worn with shock. They move awkwardly, clearly having forgotten what being human is like. They stare at their own limbs, at each other, like lost, ragged children.

He feels an immense sense of pity for them. He's certain it will not be possible for them to rejoin the Wezrin Sah anymore, no matter the fact they have regained their humanity. They appear halfway feral.

He can't help but wonder if all the other Soulbiters have fallen this same way too, elsewhere throughout the Forest, and released the beings cursed within.

Umirin grimaces slightly at the memory of his mentor, his heart twisting. She had been killed before any of this could come to pass. He'd been glad she'd gotten to die at the time, it had seemed the best mercy she could hope for, but now, perhaps she could have been free instead.

"All men are prone to becoming monsters," the Divine Beast says, "such is the way the Forest has nursed your kin," it walks toward the entrance of the cave, followed by the echoes of its own divinity, "it seems all it takes to set one down such a path of no return is either enough bravery," it turns its head to glance at Umirin and Shani, "or enough foolishness," it glances at the hunters next, before turning away.

It steps into the tunnel leading out of the cave, "Remember to walk the line, and walk it well. May your suffering never repeat, nor your deeds be forced upon another again," it gives its parting words as it walks away, the echoes of its voice fading out with its form as it disappears deeper into the tunnel, until it is out of view.

Umirin shudders as he watches it walk away, his body thrumming and so alive with nervous energy. Is this...it? Are they truly forgiven?

He supposes they all learned their lesson well enough, as the beast had said. Not the foolish ignorance of the hunters, nor the monstrous resolve of them, should ever repeat. It had ended well enough this time, but he will never be the same as he'd been before this. What has been lost cannot be regained. Shani will never look the same as he had. It seems there is nothing that could be done about that.

This is the price the few paid for the good of the many.

At least, it had been worth something in the end, if nothing else. That will have to be enough comfort. The Soulbiters are, hopefully, gone. The Forest is, at last, reunited with its Heart.

Umirin doesn't know what comes next, but he feels content enough. They'd both made it out of this alive. Their home is much safer now, and they could stay on the fringes of the Forest. It is likely they would be forgiven their sins given the magnitude of what they had accomplished, but Umirin cannot risk returning home. If they get arrested, they would be separated again. He cannot bear that. It is all he fears. The only thing he fears. What he had set out on this quest to prevent to begin with.

As long as he has Shani, whatever comes, he can handle. They can handle, he believes that.

"That ended as well as it could have," Shani pipes up, shuddering away the last of the heavy weight the Divine Beast's presence had brought to the room.

"I'm just glad we're okay," Umirin nods, and hugs Shani tighter, "that we're together," he mumbles as he buries his face against his husband's shoulder, all remaining tension from his body winding away. He finally breathes properly.

Shani returns the embrace eagerly, smiling his lovely sunlit smile. He plants a gentle kiss to the top of Umirin's head, and mutters lovingly against it, "We are, and we always will be, little one."