The front gate stood in stark contrast to the rest of the town. Unlike the relaxed chaos of the harbour, this place was rigid, controlled. Guards stood in disciplined rows, their armour dull with wear, their expressions sharp with vigilance. The walls bore the scars of past battles—claw and scorch marks, cracks where something massive had struck. These men were not the polished city guards Zyren had seen before. They were warriors, their watchful eyes scanning the horizon for threats.
“Ready?” she asked, her voice steadier now, almost challenging.
He nodded. Beyond the gate, the world changed. There were no roads, no signposts—only the uneven trail of those who had dared step beyond the safety of the walls. The land stretched out before them, untamed, wild. The air itself felt different here—fresher, yet somehow heavier with possibility and danger. The treeline loomed ahead, thick and ancient, and beyond that lay the unknown.
The transition was jarring—from the streets of Thornhold to this raw wilderness in just a few steps. The humans were making their claim here—workers operated near the tree line, chopping away at the forest, carving out space for their settlement, making sure no enemy could use them for cover. The rhythmic thunk of axes biting into wood echoed across the clearing, punctuated by occasional shouts and the crash of falling timber. The sound created a strange, discordant melody that rang through the air, but it did little to drown out the unease Zyren felt as they crossed into the trees.
"Look," Kaelith said, her voice quiet but firm. She paused at the edge of the true forest, where the workers' influence ended and nature's domain began. "Out here, no one's coming to save you. The guards back there? They'll shoot before they ask questions. You want back in, you bring them something worth their time—gold, supplies, or information."
Zyren glanced back at Thornhold, its walls already disappearing behind the foliage, the stone battlements now just glimpses of grey through the green. "And if you have nothing to offer?"
Kaelith smirked, a flash of white teeth against her sun-darkened skin. "Then you better hope you're good at climbing."
She turned west, motioning for him to follow. "Last time I was here, I found tracks," she explained, her fingers brushing against the bark of a tree as if reading its secrets. "Before I could follow them, there was a raid from the rebels and I had to turn back. The guards were too busy fighting to notice me slipping away." Her voice took on a thoughtful quality as she added, "Hopefully now we won't have to deal with that. If it is just spotters or small groups, we can evade or take care of them."
She clapped him on the back, the gesture surprisingly warm despite the calculating look in her eyes. "Don't worry," she added with a confidence that seemed almost rehearsed, "I've done this before." And with that, she strode toward the trees. So sure. So unafraid.
Zyren watched her for a moment, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. Then, with a deep breath that filled his lungs with the earthy scent of the forest, he followed, gripping his daggers, their weight both a comfort and a reminder of how quickly things could change.
---
The forest was a deprivation of the senses.
Sunlight bled through in narrow shafts, filtered into a dim green gloom by the canopy overhead. Every branch reached like gnarled fingers, and the moss-covered ground dulled each step as though trying to swallow sound. The air was humid, thick with the reek of wet bark, decaying foliage, and something older—earthy.
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Croaks echoed, deep and wet, sometimes distant, sometimes unnervingly close. The occasional plunk of something breaking the surface of unseen water broke the silence like a warning.
Zyren adjusted the strap on his shoulder, his hand never far from his daggers.
“Now you see why the humans can’t make it bigger than that?” Kaelith murmured, brushing aside a curtain of vine. The thorns at its tips gleamed faintly even in the gloom.
He nodded. “I thought they just didn’t try hard enough.”
She snorted, low and sharp. “This place eats effort. Eats maps. Eats people.”
“You seem to know your way around,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kaelith didn’t turn. “I’ve come through here before. Never the same path twice.”
“You ever see one of the locals?”
She slowed, cocking her head at him. “Locals?” Her voice carried a smile he couldn’t see.
“You know… the people who live here.”
“On this side of the wall,” she said, stepping carefully around a slanted root, “they’re called Surnai.”
“And on the other?”
Her lips curled. “Thorns.”
Zyren blinked. “Thorns? That’s it?”
Kaelith shrugged. “Guess the name stuck. ‘Cause they’re everywhere you don’t want them to be. Sharp. Quiet. Bleed you before you even realize you’re bleeding.”
They stepped around a shallow pool covered in green film. Flies buzzed lazily over lily pads, and something just beneath the surface slithered away at their approach.
“What do you know about them?” Zyren asked.
She scanned the shadows constantly, her voice quiet but alert. “Most of its hearsay. The kind of things barkeeps whisper after two too many. They’re swamp born, that much is true. Shape the forest like it’s an extension of themselves. Traps. Barriers. Camouflage. You step wrong out here, they won’t need to lift a finger. The forest kills for them.”
“I heard they work with the pirates,” Zyren said.
Kaelith’s pace stopped cold. She raised a hand.
“There,” she whispered, pointing to the mud. A line of tracks, half-swallowed by water, cut jaggedly through the undergrowth. Some older. Some recent. And just beyond—broken branches bent at unnatural angles.
They followed carefully, steps to the side of the trail. The deeper they moved, the more disturbed the forest felt.
Branches snapped. Moss torn. Wet prints—some shallow, others deep and erratic—marked a hurried, perhaps panicked, movement. Then they found a water skin, caught on a bush, soaked in brown-red.
Kaelith crouched again, her fingers tracing a wide, booted print in the dirt.
“Someone ran through here. Recently.”
Zyren’s fingers curled around the hilts of his daggers. “Running from what?”
They moved again—parallel to the trail now. It was a tactical decision. Avoid what the runner might have triggered. Or what they might have led to.
Eventually, they came upon a creek. A shallow one, choked with reeds and mist that seemed to cling low to the water’s surface. The tracks didn’t stop. If anything, they got worse. The ground bore gouges, heel drags, slaps of broken reeds flattened by something being pulled.
Then—suddenly—the forest breathed. A shift in the pressure. The trees opened slightly.
The clearing was barely a dozen paces wide, but it felt exposed, wrong.
Zyren stopped short. Kaelith didn’t speak.
Shattered branches. Blood on the bark. A broken satchel half-submerged in muck. Drag marks.
Kaelith stepped forward, drawing her sword in silence.
Zyren saw it moments later. A body.
No—half a body. Legs and part of the torso, face-down, tangled in roots. Ripped at the waist, not cleanly—but torn, like something had gripped and yanked until flesh gave way.
Zyren turned his face, bile rising. “Gods…”
Kaelith moved without flinching, crouching near what remained of the upper half down the incline. She reached out with surprising tenderness, brushing grime from the shattered breastplate. The armour revealed gave no margin for doubt.
Zyren’s voice was rough. “Didn’t you say humans don’t cross the wall?”
She stood slowly, cleaning her hand on a cloth, jaw tight. “They don’t.”′
He looked back at the corpse. “Then what was he doing here?”
“Who knows...” She scanned the trees. “Scouting maybe.”
“Did the Surnai do this?”
She gave him a glance. “If it were the Surnai, we wouldn’t find anything. This…” she motioned to the carnage, “was something else.”
“This could be a trap.” He said, looking for any spotter. “We have to get away from this.”
Kaelith nodded, giving one last look to the surroundings, and started walking.
