The trees towering above the Temple of the Elk loomed somberly above Guelder and her party. The forest was calm once again. Only the late spring wind rustled in the canopy. No more crazed wildlife prowled around the ancient stones to keep the adventurers away. If any of them survived their arrival, it had probably fled in horror before even trying to attack.

The remains of the structure didn't look much like a temple anymore. The walls were gone, the masonry scattered and overgrown by vegetation, including unusually colourful, alien-looking plants. The only recognisable parts were an elevated podium, a few columns still standing, and the statue of Erastil himself, its stag head fallen to its human feet. And, of course, the pool that used to hold crystal clear healing water, but now emitted greenish, foul-smelling miasma. The poisonous vapour was rolling slowly above ground, reaching up to Guelder's waist. Pangur was watching from a horizontal branch above their heads, and Linzi was travelling on Amiri's shoulders. Harrim, too heavy to be carried and too clumsy to climb trees, had to make do with a wet handkerchief held to his nose and mouth.

"He is still here," whispered Jhod Kavken, a middle-aged priest recently freed from the Stag Lord's bandits.

"Who?" whispered back Guelder.

"Erastil. I can feel his presence. How strange... One would think he abandoned this dilapidated temple long ago. If only there was a way to rebuild this place..."

"Where there is a will, there is a way," said Guelder softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Once I claim this land from the Stag Lord, we will figure out how to restore this place to its former glory without disturbing the peace of the forest. But this is a task for later. First we must finish what we came for."

They had come from the burnt-out ruins of an abandoned hut in the Narlmarches, following the guidance of Guelder's elusive spirit contact. This time, she'd finally seen it fit to share her secret with her companions. After finding out a few dismal details about the Stag Lord's early years, their next step was to visit the ruins of this temple, the source of the corruption tormenting the land, and face off against the evil druid—who, incidentally, had turned out to be the Stag Lord's once abusive, now oppressed father. It all made perfect sense. Guelder and her team had arrived at the temple, fought off the evil druid's animal minions trying to scare them away, and now it was time for the boss fight.

The boss, however, was in no hurry to show up.

"Something is not quite right," mused Guelder. "The spirit said this was where the fog covering the land originated from. But this poisonous evaporation feels entirely different."

"Perhaps it thins up as it gets further from the source," suggested Jhod.

"Or maybe the voices in your head are wrong, Chief," said Amiri sharply. "That druid should have popped up after we finished off the last beast. Either he is a coward or he isn't here at all."

"Say that louder, Amiri," suggested Linzi from above her head. "A sufficiently vitriolic taunt will do the trick for sure!"

Amiri cleared her throat and put her hands on her hips, letting go of Linzi's feet. The bard yelped and grabbed two handfuls of Amiri's hair to avoid tumbling back.

"Evil druid! Come show your ugly mug, you sniveling coward! Let me beat the shit out of you!"

They all held their breaths, listening, until the reverberations of the barbarian's voice died off among the trees. Nothing stirred. The silence felt increasingly oppressive.

"No luck," shrugged Linzi. "Does that mean we're done here?"

"No way," said Jhod. "I'm not going anywhere until I've cleansed that pool. Even without a temple building, the healing water will be enough to attract pilgrims and believers. It will bring the temple back to life again."

Guelder gave the matter some thought. If Jhod knew a way to dispel the miasma, it was definitely worth a try. Pilgrims meant tourism, and tourism meant income. Not to mention that an operational temple of the region's most important deity would help organise the scattered groups of population into a community. She chided herself. She hadn't even killed the stag yet. Why was she already making plans on exploiting the resources of his territory?

"Get to work, Jhod," she said. "If it comes to combat after all, I would prefer to be able to breathe freely."

The priest walked up to the pool, pinching his nose. He grabbed his holy symbol, held it up high, and started to recite a prayer.

A creaking sound cut into his monotonous murmurs, as if a waking tree were stretching its limbs. It came from what used to be the innermost sanctum. The adventurers froze, listening intently.

"What... what was that?" demanded Linzi's shaky voice.

Another creak followed. Then a scream.

Now the little bard broke into a giggle.

"I know what my next song will be about! An evil druid who made a tree grow legs, then had to run very fast to save his skin!"

"Ssh!" said Guelder. "Someone is in trouble. Harrim, as a fellow priest, keep an eye on Jhod, in case something rises from that slimy water. The others, with me!"

Amiri dropped Linzi from her shoulders, and they jogged up the steps to the podium.

What they saw there was... well, something like a bear. It had the size, the shape and the fur as well. Except it had leafy branches coming out of its ears and creaked at every move.

"What in the name of Gorum is that?" muttered Amiri, rubbing her eyes.

"Someone had the sick idea to create a treant inside a living animal," growled Guelder through clenched teeth. "Whoever did this, I want to have a little chat with them. I wonder what explanation they can give with their throat between my fangs."

The treant slowly turned towards them, its grotesque, glazed eyes staring at Guelder. Pangur snarled, bristling his fur.

"By the way," said Guelder softly, "do we have any fireflasks left?"

Linzi rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a flask with a triumphant grin.

"The last one, right?" said Guelder, snatching the flask from Linzi. "Then we must be quick. These creatures are slow but hit hard. They are most vulnerable to fire and axes, like a normal tree. So here is the plan. Pangur will keep it occupied. I will slow it down even further, then administer the fire. Linzi, you sing for us from a safe distance. Amiri, you attack it from the back. Use your sword as an axe. No stabbing, only slashing. Go for the limbs."

Amiri nodded in agreement.

"Ready? Forward!"

Tapp, tapp, tap-tap-tap-tap. Linzi got into the beat and started a battle song. Amiri gave a wide berth to the monster, running up the last few stairs, sword in hand, heading towards her designated spot. Pangur shook himself and followed his mistress's order, flashing his fangs and growling at the huge creature.

Guelder flattened herself against the remains of the railing, tapping into the source of life energy in herself, and poured it all into the wild seeds dormant among the flagstones. Vines sprang up, enveloping the monster's paws. Pangur wiggled his way out of the jumble of tendrils and continued taunting the plant beast. As Amiri, knee-deep in vegetation, struck her first blow, the monster tried to rear up in pain, only to be yanked back to the ground by the vines. Crack-crack-crack. Chips of wood and shreds of flesh and fur flew in the air as Ginormous struck again and again.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Stepping lightly among the vines, Guelder ventured closer for better aim, and smashed the flask against the treant's side. Maybe she'd ventured a little too close to do that. The sudden blaze of heat curled her eyelashes into stubbles. The smell of burning hair filled their noses, almost as stifling as the miasma coming from the pool. The treant creaked in rage. Alas, the fire consumed a portion of the tendrils as well, allowing the monster to move freely again. It reared up and turned, bringing down its heavy paw in a last-ditch effort to repay for its agony, burning vines flapping from its remaining limbs. Even as its hind legs gave out under its weight, weakened by the slashes of the big sword, it swiped Amiri off her feet and sent her flying across the podium. She hit the pavement and remained motionless, while the treant collapsed and thrashed its last amidst the flames.

"All done!" exclaimed Jhod Kavken from the pool. "The water is nice and holy again, full of healing energy. Who wants to try it first?"

"Good job!" called back Guelder. "Amiri will appreciate it. Could you two get her back into shape, while I go find the person in trouble?"

Linzi kept on singing, although a bit alarmed, while the two priests made their way across the pesky plants to their fallen companion, checked for her pulse, then dragged her to the pool, sometimes uttering words very out of place in this sacred environment. Before dumping Amiri into the water, however, they thought better of it and laid her down beside the pool instead, scooping up some water in their hands and splashing it into her face.

As soon as Guelder ascertained that Amiri would be all right, she went to take a closer look at the treant and its surroundings, hoping to find the source of that desperate cry for help.

She spotted a pile of light blue, gold and white clothes lying on the pavement. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a young man, his blond hair spilling from under the hood half slipped off his head. He twitched as Guelder's soft fingertips felt for his carotid artery.

Pangur's apprehensive growl made Guelder cautious. After all, she had no way to know if this innocent-looking youth wasn't the evil druid's apprentice or the like. Could this young man be behind the uncanny weather phenomenon or the desecration of the temple? He looked too refined for a druid, and wasn't dressed the part, either. Was he a victim himself, then? Or a decoy left here to slow down Guelder's progress?

She gave a little shake to the young man's shoulders, and as he finally opened his eyes, she addressed him in the secret language of druids.

"Banahtilat adrahir saviontas!"

"What?" muttered the youth, trying to align his unfocused eyeballs. Guelder allowed herself a smile.

"I mean, hello," she said, switching back to Common. "How are you feeling?"

"Erm... all right, I think." He wiggled up into a sitting position, then accepted Guelder's outstretched hand and stood up. "Thanks for the rescue. My name is Tristian, priest of the Dawnflower."

"Guelder. Druid and adventurer at the moment. Nice to meet you. I trust this bear-shaped abomination was not your handiwork, or was it?"

"Of course not! I... I'm just visiting here and studying the curses of the land. I'm definitely not creating monsters."

"Good. Then I have no reason to feed you to my spotted friend."

Noticing Pangur for the first time, Tristian took two hasty steps backwards and almost tripped over the edge of his robe. Guelder laughed.

"Just kidding. Did you manage to figure out anything about the strange occurrences here in the temple? I mean, the treant, the miasma, the crazy beasts, or the strange fog smothering the land? If so, I would love to learn more about it."

"Alas, my research has just begun, and that bear thing interrupted me before I could reach any conclusion. But I would be happy to be of service to you, with information or otherwise." He blushed to the tips of his ears.

Guelder raised an eyebrow.

"That otherwise part interests me. What can you offer?"

Tristian blushed even deeper, lowered his eyes and began to stutter.

"Well, the truth is, I have never... if you take my meaning... But I'm a quick learner and you're as beautiful as the rising sun, so I think I could get the hang of it in no time... Gah! Why do I have to do this?!"

Guelder noticed that the music in the background stopped. Instead, tiny feet were sneaking closer to pick up further details of this juicy conversation. She sighed inside.

"What I wanted to know," she said pointedly, "is how you can contribute to the mission of my adventuring party. Knowledge of the world, religions or nature, healing or fighting skills, and the like."

"Ah, I see," muttered Tristian, still dark red in the face. "My apologies. It's healing, mostly. Yes. That's what I do best."

The last remains of Guelder's wild vegetation had already cleared up from the flagstones, allowing her and Tristian to walk back to the rest of her team and talk a little more about their prospective cooperation. With a heroic effort, she managed to put Tristian's weird behaviour out of her mind. Perhaps he had a concussion. Even if she'd arrived here with two priests on her team, she could use one more. The aging Jhod Kavken was not an adventuring type, and Harrim was much better at wielding a mace or spreading depression than at tending wounds.

"I am on a quest to pacify the Stolen Lands and put an end to the bandits' rule of terror," she explained. "Alas, I reckon it cannot be done without a certain amount of bloodshed. You must keep this in mind before you decide to join me."

"My calling is to ease suffering, not to multiply it," said Tristian, his eyes still locked onto her face. "However, mercy is only one side of my goddess's nature. Sarenrae is also a formidable warrior... unlike myself. But I'm ready to improve, if necessary."

They reached the pool, now clear and translucent. Guelder's keen nose could even pick up the scent of fresh water. They found Amiri there, already conscious but still a bit dizzy, although the ugly bruise across her face had receded. Beside her, a tooth lay in a tiny puddle of bloody spittle.

"That bugger did hit hard, dammit," she muttered. "By the way, I still don't know who screamed."

"This young man here," said Guelder. "Show us what you do best, Tristian."

The cleric's silhouette began to glow with otherworldly light, which spread in ripples all around him. Guelder noted in passing that her eyelashes regained their original length. Amiri, however, looked as if reborn.

"Wow, thanks, mate!" she exclaimed. "I was worried about tonight's dinner, but looks like I'll be able to enjoy my steak no problem! Even my head feels fine!"

"You're good, lad, whoever you are," admitted Harrim. "If Guelder approves, feel free to join us. I don't like to heal. Why would I strive to postpone the inevitable?"

Tristian tried his best not to grimace, with a limited degree of success.

"Pharasma or Groetus?" he asked.

"Groetus."

"That... kind of makes sense. To each their own, I guess."

"Fine, Tristian, you proved your worth," said Guelder. "From now on, you are one of us."

They returned together to Oleg's trading post, Jhod and Tristian immersed in a conversation about curses, Harrim distancing himself from them and whistling into his beard. Guelder tried to listen to Linzi's excited chattering about the continuous growth of their party, but she didn't make a very good job of it. She was too busy savouring the idea that she was to become the ruler of a cursed land. It somehow felt right. A cursed land deserved a cursed ruler.