The air in the Blighted Wood was as thick as congealed blood.
Every breath carried the sweet, earthy tang of soil and the faint stench of rotting vegetation, pressing heavily on the chest.
Karriion marched at the front, his squat, powerful frame parting the hanging, black-spotted vines.
He paused from time to time, crouching to inspect nearly indistinguishable markings on the ground or tree trunks.
They were ancient Dwarven tracking runes—broken, blurred, yet still pointing the way.
Raine followed behind, the nascent form of the Star‑flame Blade bundled in heavy cloth upon his back.
His weakness lingered like a fine frost coating every limb and bone.
He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.
Star‑descendant's blood… hope… responsibility.
Karriion's words rang in his mind like a relentless hammer upon an anvil.
Thalia brought up the rear, her steps soundless.
Her face was even paler than in the cave, as if she absorbed all the dim light of the forest.
She seldom spoke, but her deep‑set eyes remained alert, sometimes flicking over Raine's back with a barely perceptible complexity in their depths.
"Almost there," Karriion's low voice shattered the oppressive silence.
He pointed ahead, beyond a grove of charred, claw‑like trees.
In the gloom, unnatural shapes emerged—man‑made structures.
The three quickened their pace, the putrid odor growing more rank with each step.
A shattered stone wall loomed before them, built of massive, finely hewn blocks in a style both ancient and sturdy.
Now most of it lay ruined, the remaining stones choked by dark green moss and thick, black‑veined vines that writhed like serpents, as if determined to crush and devour every remnant.
"This is it." Karriion tapped a relatively intact base stone with his hammer's haft, producing a hollow thud.
"Look at these marks."
He pointed to nearly worn‑smooth carvings in the corner of one block.
"A star emblem—very old. That's Duskstar hands at work."
Raine stepped forward and studied the glyphs.
Indeed, the lines carried celestial imagery—simple yet powerful—echoing patterns he'd seen in his family's ancient scrolls.
This must have been a Duskstar forward outpost, standing at the frontlines against the encroaching taint.
Now, it lay in corroded ruin.
They skirted the broken battlements in search of an entrance.
The outpost's main building extended into the thick woods behind, but every doorway was sealed by fallen blocks or overrun by blighted growth.
At last, Karriion discovered a narrow gap in a side wall.
Heavy vines curled around the opening like watchful snakes.
"I'll go first," he said, hammer at the ready, and ducked inside.
A moment later he called out, "Clear. For now."
Raine drew a steadying breath and followed him in.
Thalia entered last, and as her foot crossed the threshold she shuddered, brow tightening.
Beyond the breach stretched a cramped corridor.
The air was fouler still, thick with dust, mildew—and an uncanny, deathlike silence.
Black veins pulsed along the stone walls like living things, while the shattered remains of star‑light crystals lay embedded where they clung.
Faint shafts of pallid daylight filtered through cracks overhead.
They advanced cautiously, their footfalls echoing in the desolate passage, as if intruding upon a long‑forgotten tomb.
After winding through collapsed hallways, they reached a broad chamber.
Scattered stone benches and faded wall carvings hinted this had once been a command hall—or archive.
Stone tablets and metal scrolls lay strewn across the floor, heaped in corners, thickly caked in dust and mildew.
Most of the metal was corroded beyond recognition, the stone slabs cracked and eaten away.
"See if there's anything salvageable," Karriion ordered, dropping his hammer to sift through the rubble.
Raine crouched down and picked up a metal scroll. Cold and slick, it threatened to slice his hand as he unrolled it; rust flakes fell away with a screech.
Its script was largely illegible—an ancient Duskstar dialect he could scarcely make out.
Thalia did not join the search. Instead, she stood in the center, eyes closed, as if listening to the chamber's lingering echoes.
Her complexion had grown yet paler, her breathing barely above a whisper.
"Much is too far gone," Karriion muttered, turning over a weathered stone tablet.
"References to…'shadow's spread'…'star‑shield waning'…"
His voice trailed off.
"They tried to study… the nature of the taint… hoping to find a cure…"
Raine's pulse quickened. His ancestors, here—fighting the blight, risking everything in forbidden experiments.
Karriion set aside that tablet and uncovered another smaller fragment.
"There," he whispered. "It mentions…Duskstar."
He pointed to the corner of the fragment where, beneath the blight's scars, one could just discern the faint outline of the Duskstar crest.
Raine stepped closer, heart pounding.
The mark was unmistakable: this chamber had been commanded by his own forebears.
A weighty sense of connection swelled within him—not pride or sorrow, but a profound link across the ages, as if those long‑dead spirits now watched him.
"What were they researching?" Raine asked, voice hollow.
Karriion studied the shard's faded lines.
"Scattered notes… on star‑magic interacting with taint… they tried using starlight to purify—perhaps even to transform the corruption?"
His brow furrowed. "That sounds… dangerous."
Raine's throat tightened. Star‑magic to cleanse the blight sounded like courting disaster.
"Any more records?" he pressed.
Karriion checked the surrounding debris.
"Nothing. The research ends here—abruptly."
He examined the shard's fractured edge.
"Not worn away—deliberately destroyed. Whatever this was, they didn't want their heirs to know."
At that moment, Thalia's calm voice cut through the gloom.
"We need to leave. Now."
Raine and Karriion snapped their heads toward her.
Thalia's face was ashen; sweat beaded her forehead.
Her hand clutched her chest.
"This place… is wrong," she said, voice trembling.
"There is… a very strong, negative residue here.
As if… something was sealed away."
She looked around, fear and loathing flickering in her eyes.
"Some… failed rite? Or… an abomination of their own making?"
"This has been awakened."
No sooner had she spoken than a chill suffused the chamber—no winter cold, but an evil darkness that crept into the marrow of their bones.
Countless unseen eyes seemed to open within the shadows, watching them.
Debris at the edge of the hall scraped softly, as if in grim warning.
The black veins on the walls writhed.
"Move!" Thalia's urgent cry rang out, distorted by panic.
Karriion reacted instantly.
He withdrew charcoal and strips of parchment, rapidly sketching the remaining legible runes and fragments of the map.
His movements were swift and precise—an old habit, it seemed.
Raine raced about, gathering the clearest shard carved with the Duskstar crest from the dust at his feet.
He shoved the ice‑cold fragment into his pack.
"There!" Karriion shouted, pointing back toward their entry.
They fled through the breach, the malevolent shadows slithering after them like a living thing.
A constant sensation of being watched clung to them, as if the centuries‑old dread were stalking in silence.
Bursting back into the corrupted forest, each inhalation was a relief—but the sense of unseen eyes trailed them still, coiling around their hearts like a noose.
"That place…" Karriion panted, brushing sweat from his brow. "What abomination was that?"
Thalia leaned against a twisted trunk, eyes haunted as she gazed back toward the ruined outpost.
"A wound that should have slept," she murmured.
"We must depart swiftly."
Raine's hand tightened on the Duskstar shard in his pack.
Hot and cold at once—the echo of his ancestors' legacy, and the warning not to awaken what lay buried.
They had gained vital clues, yet in doing so, may have unleashed deeper peril.
Silent and vigilant, the three plunged back into the forest's ravening depths—chasing hope, pursued by nightmares unseen, bearing scars that would never fully heal.