Night pressed in around them, as if someone had spilled ink over a rough canvas. Raine, Karrion, and Thalia staggered along the narrow, rocky trail the dwarf had chosen. Loose stones skittered beneath their boots, each step requiring the utmost care. The wind moaned through the crags like some sorrowful lament whispered by the wasteland itself.
Karrion's squat form led the way, burrowing through the gloom like a stubborn mole. He needed no lantern—his dwarven night‐vision and intimate feel for the earth guided him silently. Every so often he'd crouch, scrub away their footprints, and press onward.
Raine followed close behind, one hand braced against Thalia's waist, the other clenched on his sword's hilt. The half–forged Starflame Blade at his side radiated a faint warmth, but it did little to thaw the chill in his heart. Marcus's shadow loomed ever larger; the phantom of his sister's voice still haunted his thoughts. And somewhere in the darkness, he could sense the subtle, unrelenting pressure of hunters tracking their every move.
Thalia's strength was failing more by the hour. She leaned heavily on Raine, her body as frigid as carved marble. Each faltering step drained her of what little energy she had left; fine beads of sweat glistened on her pale brow. Raine could feel her trembling—not from cold or exhaustion alone, but from something far deeper, a dread emanating from her very core. He longed to ask what tormented her, what secret she bore—but the question died on his lips, swallowed by the ever‐present shadows clinging to her.
"This infernal path…" Karrion grunted, unsettling the stones with a vicious kick. "Must be centuries since anyone trod it." He jabbed at a moss-slick boulder. "They call it the Bone-Shatter Trail—used by smugglers and deserters to slip past checkpoints and… more bothersome sorts."
Raine frowned. "Is it… safe?"
"Safe?" Karrion's laugh was a rumbling echo in the dark. Though his words were dwarven blunt, his meaning was clear: "What's safe is relative. The main road's smooth enough, but so are the footsteps of patrolling knights. Here, few dare venture. It's treacherous, sure—steep drop-offs, hidden pitfalls, and old ghosts. Yet those clanking in plate armor won't risk it."
He fell silent, voice dropping so low it nearly merged with the wind's mournful cry. "There's a tale that a star-kin patrol vanished here once—man and steed without trace."
A cold dread crept into Raine's chest. Lost patrols of star-blooded knights? He shot a concerned look at Thalia, but she merely kept her head bowed, her long lashes hiding troubled eyes.
Karrion pressed on: "Others whisper this path leads to ruins far older than Fallen Star City. Buried relics… curses, perhaps. Treasure, maybe. Or death. Old wives' tales, all of it—worth listening to, but not believing outright."
Yet for Raine, each whispered legend deepened his anxiety. A ruined shrine or cursed tomb meant unknown perils—the familiar dangers he preferred to face, rather than another wilderness trap. "Is there really no other way?" he asked quietly. Time was slipping through his fingers; each moment Thalia remained weak risked her life.
"Unless you fancy a game of hide-and-seek with the knights," Karrion grunted. "Their boots echo like thunder. Now move—this stretch is steepest yet."
The ascent began anew. Veiled in darkness, slick moss and ancient roots twisted like snares, ready to trip the unwary. The incline bit into Raine's legs, the after-effects of his blood-sacrifice screaming with each exertion. Still, he pressed on, never faltering in his support of Thalia. Karrion's low warnings echoed:
"Mind the loose rock on the left!"
"Grab that root—it'll hold your weight!"
"Don't step on that blackened moss—could be hollow beneath!"
Despite the tension, a silent teamwork emerged: Karrion probing ahead, Raine safeguarding Thalia, and Thalia fighting for every breath, determined not to slow them further.
They crested a treacherous ledge, and suddenly the air shifted. Underneath the wind's howl, a faint, cloying stench drifted in—something rotten from the earth's depths, a sickly sweetness of decay.
Raine halted, inhaling sharply. "Do you smell that?"
Karrion froze too, squinting into the dim. "Something's… off." He scanned the warped tree trunks ahead. Even in the starlight, bark appeared twisted and bent under invisible pressure. Shrubs near the soil's edge had gone gray-black, their leaves withered. Here and there, the moss took on a bizarre purple-black hue.
The very air seemed heavy, as though breathing dragged through treacle. They were still miles from the corrupt heart of the forest, yet corruption's tendrils appeared to be reaching this far already.
"Did we stray off course?" Raine's voice trembled.
"The map's exact." Karrion's tone was flat. "But the spread is worse than any record said."
Suddenly, Thalia gasped—a strangled sound cutting through the night. Her skin, always pale, blanched further. Her whole body quivered, no longer from mere fatigue but from a visceral recoil.
"Thalia?" Raine cried, catching her arm. She was ice in his grip.
She staggered backward, clutching a warped root, and unleashed a coughing fit that echoed like a winter gale. Blackish ichor flecked her lips, her eyes wild with fear and disdain as she stared down the path.
"It's… here," she rasped, voice breaking. "The corruption's… advance guard."
Her agonized reaction far surpassed what Raine or Karrion had felt. This was not physical nausea—it was an instinctive revulsion, as though some primeval part of her recoiled at the very sight. His mind raced: what bond did Thalia share with this blight? How did her mysterious condition intersect with the creeping rot?
The corruption's sickly miasma pressed in. The trees themselves seemed to writhe. Thalia's wheezing form sent ice through Raine's veins—if she reacted so violently, the path ahead held horrors unfathomable. The crossroads of faith and fate lay before them, and every step risked plunging them deeper into that living nightmare.