The trees were dense, their twisted forms stretching high into the heavens as if trying to grasp at something beyond the realm of mortal sight. The air, thick with moisture and decay, pressed against Elyra's skin. She could feel the weight of the forest around her, its vastness, its ancient presence. Every step they took out of the Deadmarch Wilds felt like an escape—but not from the forest itself. The land was still with them, somehow, its fingers trailing behind them, leaving traces in the air.
They had walked for hours, but the deeper they ventured from the Deadmarch, the less relief they seemed to find. The forest outside was quieter, less oppressive, but that didn't make it feel safe. The shadows were long, and the silence was a heavy, expectant thing.
Kael moved with purpose at the front, his eyes scanning the trees, his steps assured but tense. The cocky arrogance that usually clung to him like a second skin had dulled somewhat. His sword was drawn, not for any immediate threat, but more as a reflex—an instinct.
Vespera, on the other hand, walked quietly, her movements deliberate. She was no longer the stranger who had emerged from the shadows of the Deadmarch Wilds. Now, she was something else—something that made Elyra uncomfortable in ways she couldn't explain. There was something about Vespera's silence that wasn't just an absence of noise; it was a presence in itself. The way she carried herself, how she seemed to belong to this world of thick trees and endless shadows, made Elyra feel as though she were an outsider to her own life.
The crackle of dry leaves beneath her boots was the only sound, but even that seemed too loud, too intrusive against the weight of the silence pressing in on them. Elyra could feel her heart beating in her chest like a drum, and each breath felt shallow, pulled too tight. She glanced at Kael, noting the way his jaw was clenched, his posture rigid. It was as if he was waiting for something, expecting the worst.
"We should rest for the night," Kael said suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness. His words were low, but they carried the unmistakable authority of someone who had seen enough of the world to know when a reprieve was needed. He stopped walking and surveyed their surroundings. The way his eyes flicked to the edges of the trees, the shadows stretching deep into the forest, told Elyra more than she wanted to know. He was on edge. "We'll make camp here."
Elyra nodded, but her thoughts were already elsewhere. She didn't know if it was the oppressive atmosphere of the forest or the new presence of Vespera that kept her from relaxing. There was something unsettling about their new companion. The girl's connection to the Deadmarch Wilds felt… wrong, but Elyra couldn't put her finger on why. The forest had always been a place of danger, but now, with Vespera here, it felt like the danger had taken on a different form—one that she didn't fully understand.
Vespera dropped to one knee and started to gather dry twigs and branches with practiced ease. Her movements were fluid, as if she had done this a thousand times. The girl didn't speak, and Elyra couldn't decide whether that was a blessing or a curse. But there was no denying that Vespera's skill with nature was impressive. The girl didn't need a map, didn't need a compass. She simply… knew.
"How do you know where to find everything?" Elyra asked, her voice tinged with curiosity despite the unease gnawing at her. "The Deadmarch isn't exactly the kind of place that offers directions."
Vespera's gaze flickered up to meet hers for the first time since their conversation had begun. Her eyes were dark, too dark—like the heart of the forest itself. "The forest speaks to me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "It tells me where to go, what to avoid. It's… difficult to explain."
Elyra wasn't sure whether she felt relieved or even more unsettled by Vespera's words. She didn't understand the girl's connection to the land, and that made her wary. But there was also something fascinating about it—the way the girl could read the forest, how she seemed to belong to this place in a way Elyra never would.
"Does the forest also tell you who to trust?" Elyra asked, her tone light but edged with suspicion. It wasn't a question she had expected an answer to, but something about Vespera's words made her wonder.
Vespera didn't respond at first, instead pulling another branch from the underbrush and adding it to the growing pile. Her eyes never strayed far from her task. But then, as if she had made a decision, she finally spoke.
"I trust what the forest has taught me," she said simply. "And I trust those who can learn quickly."
Elyra's lips parted, but before she could reply, Kael stepped in, his voice as sharp and cold as ever. "I don't like relying on the forest," he said, his tone clipped, as if testing Vespera's patience. "It doesn't play by anyone's rules."
Vespera's eyes flicked to him then, dark and unreadable. "I'm not relying on it," she said, her words slow and deliberate. "I'm listening to it. There's a difference."
Kael's mouth twisted into a half-smirk, but it lacked its usual bite. His gaze didn't leave her as he stepped back, glancing around them again, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I suppose that's one way to survive. I'll still watch my back."
"Always do," Vespera replied with a knowing smirk.
Elyra watched the two of them, an unspoken tension rippling in the space between them. Vespera was clearly unfazed by Kael's cynicism, and that made Elyra uncomfortable. They were used to each other's tempers, their clashing personalities, but Vespera was a new element in this fragile dynamic. Elyra wasn't sure what to make of her, and part of her wanted to trust her—wanted to believe she was an ally. But another part of her, a darker, quieter part, knew better than to place her faith in someone she didn't understand.
"We'll need a fire," Elyra said, her voice cutting through the silence. "It'll be cold soon."
Vespera was already gathering dry moss and sticks, her hands quick and sure. "I'll do it," she offered, her voice almost casual. She didn't wait for an answer, moving to the clearing where the air was still and quiet. The fire sprang to life at her touch—like the forest itself had sparked it into existence.
Elyra felt her heart slow just slightly as the warmth began to seep into her cold skin. They were safe, for now. The fire would keep the worst of the creatures at bay, and the forest—for the moment—seemed to be letting them go.
As they gathered around the fire, its crackling flames illuminating their faces, Kael was the first to break the silence again.
"What exactly are we dealing with, Vespera?" His voice was low, his words measured, as if he already had a plan forming in his mind but wanted confirmation.
Vespera's face shifted in the firelight, her features flickering in the shadows as she stared into the flames. "I don't know everything," she said finally, her voice quiet. "But whatever has awakened in the Deadmarch is older than the trees themselves. It's not just the forest that's corrupted—it's the land itself. And it's hungry."
A shiver ran down Elyra's spine. "Hungry for what?"
"For life," Vespera replied softly. "For energy. For the essence that makes things grow, makes them alive. And it's been trapped in the Deadmarch for centuries. But something—or someone—has awakened it. And now…" She paused, the weight of her words settling between them. "Now, it's free."
The campfire seemed to lose some of its warmth in that moment, its flames flickering wildly as if reacting to the dark truth hanging in the air.
"Great," Elyra muttered, her stomach twisting. "We barely made it out of the Deadmarch. And now… whatever this thing is, it's free."
Kael looked toward the darkened treeline, his brow furrowing as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. "Do you think it's still after us?" Elyra asked, her voice shaking despite her efforts to steady it.
"I don't know," Vespera answered, her voice distant as her eyes narrowed, her gaze lost in the shadows. "But it won't stop until it gets what it wants."
Elyra could feel the weight of those words deep in her chest, a chill creeping through her bones. The forest wasn't just alive—it was watching them. And worse, it had sent Vespera to follow them.