The forest path was barely obscured by the shadow cast by the trees, let alone for possibly centuries judging by their thickness and size. Forest this ancient could only happen because of the protection of the druids, which was primarily the reason why they prevented anyone from entering the forest without permission.
The fact that guests were allowed to go into the forbidden forest was enough to tell both of them that the situation was dire enough to warrant breaking the rule. Whatever was causing the druids to be weakened would not be something that could be easily dealt with, or to understand. These facts made Grant worried that there was more than this than meets the eye.
His companion, Arrabi, was tracking the source of the malady through the restless spirits around her. While she thought it wasn’t necessary, for there was a clear path from the start of the forest towards the source, she did so anyway, in case there were other surprises that they needed to anticipate before it could disadvantage them. Her calmness in the situation convinced Grant that she knew what she was doing. However, like everyone who claimed so, there was no guarantee that it could save them in dangerous or unknown situations.
“Hey, Grant?” asked Arrabi, breaking the silence between them. “Did you hear anything?”
“No,” said Grant, looking around. “Now that you mention it, it’s silent in here. Too silent. There is no sound of nature or wildlife.”
“Perhaps the animals were scared of by whatever is waiting for us in the forest,” surmised Arrabi. “That means we’re on the right track.”
“You don’t seem worried.”
“I am worried. I just know how not to let it overwhelm me. Besides, there is nothing scarier that a horde of gnolls, or one of them laughing like a madman.”
Arrabi turned solemn, noticed by the scarce light they had between them. Grant did not expect this information, though it made a lot of sense, given that she came from the Jubari Nation.
“I gather you got problems with them, too,” asked Grant. "If I may ask, what happened?"
"My village…was situated near the borders between the two nations. We were not spared from the war.”
Arrabi sighed, not wanting to talk about her past. She immediately changed the topic by saying, “What about you? What brings you to the sanctuary?”
Unfortunately for her, Grant’s story was related to hers.
“Same reason as you,” said Grant. “Pawa, a friend of mine, took me in after I got myself in trouble. It’s hard to forget what you did…and what they did.”
“You were…there? In the War?”
“As an unaffiliated adventurer working for the Manarithians. It’s a favor to our Kal’Adre friends, and because we witnessed the atrocities that happened at the start of the war. We wanted to help our friends…but it ended with a tragedy.”
The only thing Arrabi could say, after a moment of silence, was, “I’m sorry.”
Grant let out a smile. "Thank you, but you don't have to," he said. "I should be the one who’s sorry. We could have done more than just fighting a war where no one’s the victor. If only we realized who’s really pulling the strings earlier, we could have prevented this war from escalating further. I…we….”
Grant sighed. “It’s all in the past now. I came to this sanctuary to make peace with that fact. There is no point in changing the past, all we can do now is to look forward and hope we make better choices.”
Arrabi nodded, concurring with Grant’s words. While the words were different, they served the same purpose as what her teacher once said to her during one of her trainings.
And she also knew better not to poke the issue further, knowing that Grant had no reason to tell such a sensitive story to her. Arrabi certainly wouldn’t share her own past so easily to someone she barely knew.
So, instead of talking about such a harrowing, shared past, Arrabi decided to talk about something else, such as Grant’s history with the druids, what he did before, what kind of adventures he had been a part of. He began a story about a quest involving his Kal’Adre friends that turned into a long, drawn-out adventure that took them to Jubari nation, one that involved a political turmoil, some unnecessary deaths, and the power of speech to prevent more. Arrabi listened intently, surprised that Grant was not just some adventurer who got involved in a war.
Grant never intended to brag, though he silently admitted that it did sound like an epic quest to people who were not there. He made sure to omit some unnecessary details, and some salacious ones involving his friends, since they were private. He did share some humorous moments at the expense of his former adventuring crew, which made Arrabi chuckled upon hearing them.
The talk distracted them from the passage of time, as it had been four hours since they entered the forest and following the path laid onto them. Grant ran out of stories two hours before, so it was Arrabi’s turn to talk about her life, and her training as a shaman, which enabled her to sense lingering spirits and communicate with whenever she could. Her story, however, was interrupted when she felt something from the spirits in the forest. They were restless, and were dangerous. The danger involved in sensing them forced Arrabi to cut the connection abruptly, startling her. This did not escape Grant’s attention.
“Are you okay?” asked Grant, trying to prevent Arrabi from keeling over.
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“No,” she said, honestly. “The spirits, they’re…corrupted. I never felt something like this before. The corruption is eating the spirits inhabiting the forest, turning them against whoever’s depending on them.”
“And the druids were affected because of it.”
Arrabi nodded, confirming Grant’s remark. “Their connection to the trees is tied to the spiritual energy the trees possess. It has spread to the sanctuary, killing the plants and the druids. I don’t know why I didn’t see this back in the sanctuary. Perhaps it’s spread too thin?”
“Whatever it is, we need to find its source and stop it,” said Grant. “Where does it spread from?”
Arrabi pointed at a direction. Grant gazed towards it, making use of his sharp, half-elven eyes to see through the darkness and several distance further from a normal human’s eyes. It was part of his elven heritage that was functional enough, alongside his greater magick reserve. The only thing he wasn’t blessed with was age, as he aged like a human, albeit slower.
“I see a building,” said Grant. “It’s hazy from this distance, but it looks like a temple. Probably Wyrithian, by the looks of it.”
“Wyrithian? How can there be a Wyrithian structure deep in a Clydethian forest?”
“I want to tell you about the history of the region, but that can wait,” said Grant. “We need to save the druids first. Can you fight?”
Arrabi pulled out her dagger, to which Grant said, “I mean magickally.”
“I know what I'm doing. Every mage needs something to focus their magick, so this is mine.”
“It's unusual, but you seem to know what you're doing,” said Grant. “Stay close and be careful of the darkness. I only have a pair of eyes. I can’t see everywhere at once.”
Arrabi did not like being patronized, but the state of the spirits and Grant’s seriousness were enough to tell her that this was not just any threat. She replied with a silent nod as they slowly approached the structure Grant saw with his sharp eyes.
Several minutes later, the structure, hidden in the darkness, became visible. True to what Grant said, it was a Wyrithian architecture, complete with marbles, arches, and domed roofs. The arches provided them with entrance, while a broken-down marble stair provided them the door. They were covered in vines after years of neglect.
Arrabi’s spiritwalker senses went wild as she approached the area. The spirits were no longer restless; they became hostile upon realizing that Arrabi could sense and communicate with them. She immediately held up her hand, but it did not stop her from being pushed by some of the spirits. She let out a strained grunt before she commanded loose spirits to converge in front of her, becoming her spirit guardian.
“Arrabi!” exclaimed Grant upon seeing her straining against an invisible force.
“Don’t come any closer!” she commanded. “You can’t sense the spirits like I do. Let me handle this!”
Deep down, Grant wanted to stay and do what he could, but Arrabi was right. They must deal with the main problem, not fighting invisible ghosts.
Yet, no sooner than she said that, tendrils shot out of the building with blinding speed, surprising Grant, whose acute senses warned him in advance. He immediately held out his hand and shouted, “Shield!”
Bright blue energy rapidly burst out of his hand, forming a transparent barrier that deflected the tendrils and saved him. However, his unpreparedness, and the nature of the quick-cast spell, made the barrier brittle. It shattered once it deflected the tendrils.
That was to be expected, thought Grant. He sneaked a look at Arrabi, who seemed to be holding her grounds with an intense expression. He was once again tempted to help her, but he kept reminding himself that she did not need help as Grant couldn’t help her. He immediately focused himself towards the tendrils, which had started to recede back to the Wyrithian structure. Grant did not wait for them to start another attack. He must begin his attack, not staying on defense.
Grant, being an experienced adventurer, knew that the best course of action was to retreat and to call for reinforcements, like he once suggested during one of his past adventures. However, years of experience also told him that sometimes, retreating would not be a viable option.
But that did not mean he would be disadvantaged. It would be difficult not to have reliable warriors. He had to do it himself.
“Sword of Egwethin, be summoned to my hand!” Grant declared.
A translucent, blue-colored greatsword formed where he mimed holding the hilt of one. It shone a blue light in the darkness, bathing the shadow-shrouded area in light. Grant did not delay; he immediately dashed towards the Wyrithian structure, intending to attack the source of the tendrils, which had completely receded and was beginning to attack again.
This time, Grant was ready. Instead of casting a shield, he relied on his swordsmanship. The sword of Egwethin he summoned was good enough to deal with tendrils and was quick to summon. It was sharp, relied on concentrated light, and most importantly, weighed almost nothing. He couldn’t swing heavy steel swords or nock a bow. A spectral greatsword would have to do. All he needed were well-placed slashes from his twirls, and he made a wide swing that cut through all the tendrils.
Taking a sharp, deep breath, Grant ran towards the structure, disregarding any safety. At this point, Bartlett would tell him to be careful, given that, as a mage, he was not as sturdy as the others in the party. He would tell them to shut up as he knew what he was doing.
He was glad that all that bravado was still there, as did the skill. He never stopped honing his skills as a fighter-mage, always contextualizing it as a workout, even though the spectral swords he favored weighed almost nothing. He was glad not to be drawn into the peaceful live among the druids, knowing that it wouldn’t last for him.
He swung his swords in quick succession upon noticing the tendrils shot at him, trying to prevent him from reaching the building. Each swing reached their tendrils, effortlessly cutting them. He did not stop, keeping his momentum as he climbed the stairs. He was stopped only when spikes were shot at him, forcing him into the defensive.
Except this time, Grant was ready. Taking cover behind one of the pillars, Grant took his time murmuring the incantation to put shield bubble around him. He then proceeded to pull a vial from his satchel. It contained a bright, turquoise liquid in it, something that might raise concern to those who did not know what was in it.
Not Grant, though. He simply uncorked the bottle and downed the whole content of the vial like a shot of liquor, which gave the same effect, albeit this one was intended to replenish his magick reserves. Casting a shield and summoning a sword took a lot of his reserves, and it would take too much time for him to draw in magick from nature.
“Okay, Grant, this is it,” said the half-elf to himself. “Whatever’s inside is not interested in talking. Just deal with it and learn about it later.”
With this in mind, Grant took another deep breath, calming himself down. He tended to get excited when dealing with an unknown, whether it was for knowledge or in a fight. That was the kind of weakness tempered by his friends’ composure, though it wasn’t as if Rodvar wasn’t goading him to do something stupid or Eliani to be indifferent about it. This time, they weren’t there, not even strait-laced Bartlett.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t really alone there. Just as he was going to face the danger, something pulled him away from the pillar by the back of his shirt’s collar, shocking him. He should’ve sensed it if someone’s approaching him. That’s the purpose of the barrier.
Intrigued by this, he turned around. What he saw surprised him.
