The Great Eastern Forest loomed ahead, a massive wall of shadowy trees, their trunks twisted and covered in ancient moss. The air was thick with humidity, and the faint scent of decay hung in the breeze. The trees seemed to press in from all sides, their branches interlocking to form a canopy that blocked out much of the pale sun.

Vlastimir, the tracker, stepped forward without hesitation, his leather fur lined boots sinking into the soft snow with every step. He was the only one who had ventured into this forest before, but even so, it had been a long time. The others followed, though not without some hesitation.

Miloslav, the grizzled warrior, was used to the grind of battle, not the subtle dangers of the forest. His hand hovered near the hilt of his axe as he walked, his gaze scanning the shadows. He wasn’t sure what he was more uneasy about—the wild spirits that were said to haunt this place, or the eerie lifeless quiet that blanketed everything, no birds chirping, no nothing.

Zavila, the shaman, seemed oddly at ease, her eyes distant as if listening to something the others couldn’t hear. Her staff clicked against the ground with each step, and the faint scent of herbs and incense seemed to follow her like a cloak.

Bogdan, the ice mage, walked slowly, his breath was invisible in the air whilst his magic cooled the space around him. His robes billowed with every step, though his expression was one of annoyance. “I should’ve packed more food,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Vlastimir glanced over his shoulder at the group, the faintest smirk curling his lips. “This forest is no place for comfort,” he said in his low, gravelly voice. “There wont be much cooking, its why i made you pack raw edibles.”

“I’d rather have this salted meat and raw carrots in a warm stew,” Miloslav grunted, adjusting his heavy armor. “but if you say so woodsman.”

“Tracker,” Vlastimir corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Zavila raised an eyebrow as she stared into the distance, her voice soft yet firm. “I don’t like this place. The spirits are restless. Some are in pain, others in anger. We’re walking through a place that’s deeply unsettled.”

Bogdan sniffed the air, his expression souring as he muttered a few words under his breath. “I feel it too. It’s cold, but not in a good way.”

“Focus,” Vlastimir snapped. “We’re not here for the spirits. Keep your eyes open. There’s worse out here than some wailing ghosts.”

The team pressed forward, each step taking them deeper into the dark, foreboding forest. The trees grew more densely packed, their massive roots breaking through the earth in twisted snarls, whilst some trees seemed to have eyes on them with intimidating stares. The air became thick with fog, and the sounds of the forest—of distant creaking, of creatures calling out—interrupted the silence more and more.

After what felt like hours of trudging through the thick underbrush, they came across their first sign of trouble.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the trees. Vlastimir held up a hand, signaling for the group to stop. Everyone froze, their eyes darting around in search of the source of the sound.

“I see it,” Miloslav said, his voice low and steady. He pointed through the trees, and the others followed his gaze. There, standing amidst the mist, was a figure—twisted and decayed. Its skin was a sickly gray, its eyes hollow, its form half-rotted and covered in moss and fungi. The stench of death and decay hit them like a wall.

“Its an Undead,” Vlastimir muttered. “They wander these woods. Keep your distance.”

“Just one?” Miloslav asked, his grip tightening on his axe.

Vlastimir’s eyes flicked around. “It’s alone for now. Let’s deal with it quickly.”

Before anyone could react, Miloslav charged forward, swinging his axe in a powerful arc. The undead creature snarled, raising its hands in a feeble attempt to strike, but Miloslav was faster. With one mighty blow, he cleaved through its skull, the rotten head cracking open and collapsing to the ground in a heap of decayed flesh.

Zavila winced at the sight, but she quickly composed herself. “It’s only the beginning,” she said softly, her eyes scanning the surrounding area. “We’ve disturbed this place, spirits will be drawn to it.”

Vlastimir nodded. “We’ll keep moving.”

The group moved forward, their pace quickening as they made their way deeper into the forest, now alert to every creak of a branch or shift in the undergrowth.

As night began to fall, the group found a small clearing, the perfect place to camp for the night. Vlastimir stopped and surveyed the area, his sharp eyes taking in the surroundings. “We’ll camp here. But no fire.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“What?” Miloslav asked, his voice rising in surprise. “No fire? In this place? Are you mad?”

“We don’t need fire,” Vlastimir replied. “It will attract unwanted attention. And besides, the trees are dense enough. We’ll make do.”

“But we need to stay warm!” Miloslav said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “I’m not going to freeze to death in this damned place just to avoid a few spirits.”

“I'll build an igloo,” Bogdan suggested, trying to sound confident. “its a simple skill you learn as a beginner ice mage. It will keep the cold out, and the light wont be revealed that much so it will keep us safe. It’ll work.”

Vlastimir turned to him, a look of disbelief on his face. “Igloo? In a forest full of undead? Are you serious?”

“Better than freezing in a tree,” Miloslav muttered, crossing his arms.

Vlastimir looked from Miloslav to Bogdan, then back at the dense canopy overhead, his expression unreadable. The night was quickly drawing in, and the forest felt more oppressive with each passing minute. The chill in the air was beginning to seep into their bones, and the unsettling sounds of the forest only amplified the unease that already gripped them.

"Fine," Vlastimir said at last, his voice low. "We’ll build the igloo. But no more arguing once it's done. Everyone will keep a watch." He turned his gaze to Zavila, then Bogdan. "I’ll take first watch, Zavila you take second, Bogdan you do the third watch, and you," he said, pointing at Miloslav, "You’ll keep alert, no sleeping until we’ve secured the perimeter and get done building. The undead and spirits are unpredictable, and we can't afford to get careless."

Zavila gave a single nod, her eyes focused on something far off, as if she were listening to voices only she could hear. "I’ll keep watch," she said quietly, her voice soft but firm. "But you’re right, the spirits here are restless. They’re angry. I’ve heard their wails but they dont make any sense."

Bogdan was, muttering something under his breath about the cold not bothering him but wanting to prove useful, before getting to work. He raised his hands, and the faint glow of his magic began to shimmer around them, the ground freezing slightly beneath his feet as he shaped the snow and ice. The igloo formed quickly—more of a sturdy shelter than a simple snow hut. It had thick walls that would keep the worst of the cold at bay, and the interior would be spacious enough for them all to sit, though not that comfortably.

Vlastimir helped with the construction, though his efforts seemed more begrudging than enthusiastic. He seemed to keep glancing over his shoulder, his eyes darting into the shadows of the trees. His hand hovered near his bow as if ready to strike at any moment.

"You sure about this, Bogdan?" Vlastimir asked, his tone skeptical as he adjusted his armor. "We’re sitting ducks in here, and the fire risks bringing the undead that are drawn to the heat, the warmth, and the light. That’s how they find their prey." His sharp eyes scanned the trees again. "And the last thing I want is to have the whole forest knocking at our door."

"it will barely show any light or nor give off any heat to the outside if we build it correctly, and it wont be easy to get into either so that can go both ways right?" Bogdan replied with relative confidence, he might be new to this territory, but he had camped like this often before.

"alright then, I trust you on this" Vlastimir responded with some relief that Bogdan at least had some arguments for his idea.

The group worked in tense silence, each occupied with their own tasks. The forest seemed to close in tighter around them as night began to fall, the faint, eerie glow of bioluminescent fungi on the trees providing just enough light to highlight the twisting shadows of the branches. As the last of the igloo took shape as Bogdan finished his work, stepping back with a satisfied grunt. "There," he said, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow despite the freezing cold around them. "Not the most comfortable, but it’ll do."

"Good," Vlastimir said, moving toward the entrance. "We’ll rest in shifts. Once we’re inside, no one speaks unless it’s necessary. Got it?"

Everyone nodded, understanding that risking danger for small talk wasn't the wisest.

As they huddled into the igloo, the air inside wasn't that warm but tolerable, and the ice walls muffled the sound of the forest outside. Vlastimir, ever vigilant, crouched by the entrance, watching the darkness beyond the entrance with narrowed eyes. Zavila sat across from him, her staff resting in her lap, she didn't look around at all, instead she seemed to focus on listening to sounds only she could hear as a shaman.

Bogdan and Miloslav settled into their respective corners of the igloo, though Miloslav gripped the hilt of his axe even when resting, as though a warrior instinct incapable of truly settling down.

Vlastimir glanced over at Zavila, who was still listening to sounds far off in the woods. "Stay alert with your eyes too," he said quietly. "the undead can be very silent."

The shaman didn’t answer immediately, her brow furrowed as though she were listening to something beyond the mortal realm. After a long pause, she turned her eyes to Vlastimir. "You’re right. But there’s something else, something... darker in these woods."

Vlastimir raised an eyebrow and whispered. "What do you mean?"

Zavila hesitated, glancing toward the walls of the igloo as though seeking confirmation from something unseen. "There’s a strong central presence here. Something ancient. corrupted evil. It’s tied to the land, and it’s been here for long."

Vlastimir’s eyes were focused. "Like a curse?" he asked.

Zavila closed her eyes for a moment, her voice low as she spoke. "There’s something—something old. Something tied to this land and the forest itself. It’s been here for centuries, before the forest itself, but now it harming it, corrupting it. I’ve heard whispers from the spirits, a great power that warps their minds and souls, something that once gave birth to all here... but now its lashing out."

Vlastimir listened with worry, his mind working through the possibilities. That could explain why the forest feels so off, why the spirits are so restless and why there are so many undead raised without being in the dark lands nor any knowledge of necromancers operating in the area. "We’ll need to be careful." he whispered to her with a nod, before deciding to take his rest.

As the night pressed on, the wind began to howl outside, but within the igloo it was still and relatively warm. The spirits had not done anything for now and the undead seemed to be at bay, but their presence lingered in the back of everyone’s mind.