Two figures moved through the forest without sound.
Their cloaks billowed softly, untouched by branches or soil. They didn't walk—they floated, just above the earth, gliding over roots and rotting leaves as if the forest itself dared not disturb them.
The taller one led, his face hidden beneath a deep hood, hands clasped behind his back. The shorter followed close, the faint shimmer of pale magic trailing from her fingers, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
They said nothing at first.
The silence broke only when the undergrowth thickened.
In front of them was a spiral of glowing mushrooms.
"They've laid traps," the taller figure murmured.
The other nodded. "I sense old injuries in the ground. Blood. Someone fought here."
"They're being hunted," he replied. "Regularly. That means they're still alive… and dangerous enough to keep surviving."
A breeze stirred the trees. The two rose slightly, drifting higher.
"Better not to touch the ground," he added. "I'd wager the shadows here bite."
Below them, half-buried in a carpet of moss, a crude trap waited—a cluster of steel spikes arranged in a tight spiral, aimed to stab upward with the lightest pressure. Silent, invisible. Efficient.
The female figure's eyes lingered on the trap for a moment longer than necessary. "They know what they're doing," she said quietly, voice almost unreadable.
"They do," he agreed. "That's why we'll keep our distance."
They continued their journey, the forest stretching out before them like an endless sea.
The forest thickened as they moved forward, the air growing heavier with the scent of burnt wood and ash. The deeper they went, the more the landscape seemed to change.
The trees, once full of life, were now twisted and blackened, their trunks scorched as if a great fire had swept through. The ground was marked with patches of blackened earth, the remains of what might have once been lush underbrush now charred to crisp remnants.
The female inspected the land, her hood moving backwards lightly to show her blonde hair. "This... this wasn't the work of natural fire." Her fingers hovered in the air, her magic sparking faintly in response to the disturbance.
The taller figure, ever composed, studied the damage with sharp eyes. "No. Someone set this place aflame... deliberately. The only explanation is Fire magic."
Even now, faint wisps of smoke rose from the still-smoking remains of trees, though the fire itself had long since died out.
"They've been here," the man said, his voice low and grim. "Those fire mages, they always leave destruction in their wake. And they're not afraid to make a statement. typical of Lehava's followers, their god was the instigator of the race war after all."
His daughter's eyes flickered toward the sky, scanning for any sign of movement, any hint of the unseen force that might have caused this. "Could it be them?" she asked quietly. "The ones we've heard about?"
He didn't answer right away, but his hand tightened on the staff at his side, and his gaze hardened. "It's possible. This is no ordinary forest. These woods are filled with dark power, and their mana essence is one of the greatest in the realm. Only those of great affinities to magic can drink the powers of the forest." His eyes narrowed, seeing something else among the scorched trees, deeper into the clearing. "But there's something more... They're close."
They both hovered silently for a moment, floating above the charred ground, the stillness in the air making the trees seem eerily alive, as if they were watching. The faintest sound—a crackling of dry branches in the distance—tugged their attention, and both figures shifted in unison, their movements sharp and instinctive.
"They know we're here," the girl whispered, barely audible. "Someone's watching."
"I know," the tall figure replied, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "They've been waiting for us. I guess it is time to greet them."
"Father, this is not a good idea. If we take into account the last interaction they had with elves, we can only assume they'll attack on sight. This is a dangerous fight, one I am not sure of winning."
Her father grinned, and his hood was pulled back and was now resting on his nape.
"Have some faith in your father." He said with a sincere smile.
His white hair was braided, and his clean, pale face radiated youth.
She didn't smile back.
Her eyes stayed fixed ahead, thoughtful..
"If you get yourself killed… I'll have no one left to annoy."
He chuckled at that, but he did not let it belittle the meaning behind her words. "Harsh."
"Honest," she replied, gliding beside him once more. "Not all of us are as reckless as you."
His expression tightened, just slightly. "Your mother would've said the same."
There was a pause. Her gaze shifted downward, to the ground far below.
"She didn't really get the chance to say much," she said.
He glanced at her, the edges of his smile fading.
"No," he agreed, voice soft now. "She didn't."
For a brief moment, neither of them moved. Suspended in the air above scorched roots and darkened earth, both looked like fragments of the past.
Then the wind stirred again. A low pulse of mana rolled through the forest like a heartbeat, and both figures turned their heads at once.
"They're close," she said.
He nodded. "And curious."
"They're watching us?"
"From more than one angle. Smart. Testing us. Probably wondering if we're with the court, or just lost wanderers."
"They'll see we're not here to fight."
"Let's hope they care."
He drifted downward slightly, lowering himself until his boots hovered a hand's breadth above the earth. His daughter mirrored the motion, warily watching the shadows thicken between the trees ahead.
"Stay behind me," he murmured.
"You'll shield me?"
He smiled again. "Not quite. I'll distract them. You heal me afterward."
Her eyes narrowed. "You always make the worst plans."
He gave her a sideways look. "And yet here we are. Still breathing."
She didn't respond, but the faintest flicker of something passed over her face. Not quite fear—more like worry, sharp and practiced.
Then, from between the trees, a presence stirred.
A whisper of movement.
A shadow detached itself from the bark, impossibly silent.
"The hell... is that thing?" Said the young girl.
The creature didn't answer.
It stepped, or rather, drifted from the shadows. purple Smoke in the shape of a rabbit, its body a slow swirl of gray-black mist bound into fur and ears, its eyes cold pinpricks of light. It didn't twitch, didn't flinch. Just observed them.
"It's not attacking," she said softly, uncertain.
The older man studied it, then gave a small nod.
"It's beckoning."
The creature turned, silent as ever, and bounded forward a few meters before pausing. It looked back, its eyes nothing but glinting void.
"Should we follow?" she asked, wary.
He began to move, lowering his staff. "Yes. That's not a natural beast. It's made of death magic. If it wanted to strike, we'd already be bleeding. This is classic work of the demon kind, yet it is here after their extinction... Such a peculiar day we're having." said the man with a dry chuckle as he managed to regain his composure.
They followed.
The deeper into the clearing they went, the thicker the mana became. It pulsed under the earth, but their floating bodies did not feel it directly.
Fang's trusty servant slipped between roots and stones with impossible ease, leading them toward a patch of open ground still seared from a long-extinguished blaze.
That's where they saw them.
Two figures stood in the center of a clearing. The cave behind them was more than impressive as it was brandished with several iron spikes, and the garden that sprawled in front of it bowed its head to the masters of the place.
The clay forge was cold, but a massive lump of iron, the size of a small cabin, was lying there, which elicited a surprised hum from the hooded man.
His daughter, on the other hand, didn't dare look anywhere else but at the two figures in front of her.
One was a man, short and broad, flames enveloping his closed fists faintly. His hands were lit, ready to cast, his eyes burning with immediate hatred.
The other was a woman, tall, cloaked in earth-colored tones. Magic clung to her skin like armor. Her expression was colder than steel.
"You've got one chance," the woman said. "Turn around, or get buried right here."
The elf raised both hands slightly, non-threatening. "We come in peace."
"Peace?" Isgram growled. Your kind is not welcome here."
Gaia's gaze cut through the air like a blade. "This forest is claimed. You're trespassing."
Smoke drifted back and circled Fang's leg, its body vibrating like a predator ready to leap.
The girl moved closer to her father, whispering, "That woman—her mana feels wrong."
"Not wrong," he replied calmly. "Powerful. Earth magic to be exact. But rest assured, she does not pose as much as a threat as I thought she would. They should be quite new to being mages."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "New doesn't mean weak."
"No," the man said, glancing at Gaia, "but it means reckless."
Gaia stepped forward, firm and unflinching. "You've got five seconds to explain why you're in our forest. Or I bury you where you float."
The man raised his hands, palms out. "We felt a mana flare. And fire. We came to investigate."
Isgram's eyes narrowed, a faint flicker of heat dancing across his skin. "So you thought you'd just glide here without a care in the world?"
"We didn't want to trip on your traps," the girl replied coolly. "You've layered this place like a paranoid warlock."
"That's not paranoia," Gaia snapped. "That's survival. And this forest doesn't welcome outsiders."
A silence fell.
The man's gaze shifted toward the cave behind them. "He's inside, isn't he? The one whose mana shook half the forest?"
Neither Isgram nor Gaia answered.
"We're not here to harm him," the girl added. "But his aura... it's like a black tide. It's still leaking."
Gaia's eyes narrowed. "That black tide kept us alive. If you're here to question it, you can leave the same way you came."
"We're not questioning," the man said. "We're witnessing."
Isgram scoffed. "You're stalling."
"No," the man said. "We're offering help."
The air tensed again.
"Help," Gaia repeated. "That's rich. What kind of help floats in without knocking and scans our mana like we're beasts in a cage?"
"You think we came for you?" the girl snapped. "We came because the mana pulse from this place nearly started a fire that spread to other villages nearby!"
Isgram now felt his heat rising, his hands igniting into a fireball.
"If your kind had been kind enough to stay out of our forest, this would never have happened!"
The man's gaze sharpened. "We've heard of your death mage. We know he's injured."